U  N  IVER.S  ITY 
Of  ILLINOIS 

Sc«8 
I8Z9 


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UNIVERSITY   OF    ILLINOIS   LIBRARY  AT  URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 

L161  — O-1096 

THE  MONASTERY. 


By  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT,  BART. 


Oh  ay !  the  monks,  the  monks,  they  did  the  mischief  I 
Theirs  all  the  grossness,  all  the  superstition 
Of  a  most  gross  and  superstitious  age. 

— Old  Play. 


KEW  YORK : 

A.  L.  BURT,  PUBLISHER. 


«  r4J&RARy  J^h — ~ — ' — '  '  1 : — —  ~   — — » 

< 
o 

coINTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY. 


It  would  be  difficult  to  assign  any  good  reason  why  the 
SzJ  Author  of  Ivanhoe,  after  using,  in  that  work,  all  the  art  he 
^  possessed  to  remove  the  personages,  action,  and  manners  of 
the  tale  to  a  distance  from  his  own  country,  should  choose  for 
the  scene  of  his  next  attempt  the  celebrated  ruins  of  Melrose, 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  his  own  residence.  But 
the  reason,  or  caprice,  which  dictated  his  change  of  system 
has  entirely  escaped  his  recollection,  nor  is  it  worth  while  to 
attempt  recalling  what  must  be  a  matter  of  very  little  conse- 
quence. 

The  general  plan  of  the  story  was  to  conjoin  two  characters 
in  that  bustling  and  contentious  age  who,  thrown  into  situa- 
tions which  gave  them  different  views  on  the  subject  of  the 
Reformation,  should,  with  the  same  sincerity  and  purity  of 
intention,  dedicate  themselves,  the  one  to  the  support  of  the 
sinking  fabric  of  the  Catholic  Church,  the  other  to  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  Eeformed  doctrines.  It  was  supposed  that 
some  interesting  subjects  for  narrative  might  be  derived  from 
opposing  two  such  enthusiasts  to  each  other  in  the  path  of 
life,  and  contrasting  the  real  worth  of  both  with  their  passions 
and  prejudices.  The  localities  of  Melrose  suited  well  the 
scenery  of  the  proposed  story :  the  ruins  themselves  form  a 
splendid  theatre  for  any  tragic  incident  which  might  be 
brought  forward;  joined  to  the  vicinity  of  the  line  river,  with 
all  its  tributary  streams,  flowing  through  a  country  which  has 
been  the  scene  of  so  much  fierce  fighting,  and  is  rich  with  so 
many  recollections  of  former  times,  and  lying  almost  under 
the  immediate  eye  of  the  Author,  by  whom  they  were  to  be 
used  in  composition. 


6 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


The  situation  possessed  farther  recommendations.  On  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  Tweed  might  be  seen  the  remains  of  an- 
cient inclosures,  surrounded  by  sycamores  and  ash-trees  of 
considerable  size.  These  had  once  formed  the  crofts  or  arable 
ground  of  a  village,  now  reduced  to  a  single  hut,  the  abode  of 
a  fisherman,  who  also  manages  a  ferry.  The  cottages,  even 
the  church  which  once  existed  there,  have  sunk  into  vestiges 
hardly  to  be  traced  without  visiting  the  spot,  the  inhabitants 
having  gradually  withdrawn  to  the  more  prosperous  town  of 
Galashiels,  which  has  risen  into  consideration  within  two  miles 
of  their  neighbourhood.  Superstitious  eld,  however,  has  ten- 
anted the  deserted  groves  with  aerial  beings,  to  supply  the 
want  of  the  mortal  tenants  who  have  deserted  it.  The  ruined 
and  abandoned  churchyard  of  Boldside  has  been  long  believed 
to  be  haunted  by  the  fairies,  and  the  deep  broad  current  of 
the  Tweed,  wheeling  in  moonlight  round  the  foot  of  the  steep 
bank,  with  the  number  of  trees  originally  planted  for  shelter 
round  the  fields  of  the  cottagers,  but  now  presenting  the  effect 
of  scattered  and  detached  groves,  fill  up  the  idea  which  one 
would  form  in  imagination  for  a  scene  that  Oberon  and  Queen 
Mab  might  love  to  revel  in.  There  are  evenings  when  the 
spectator  might  believe  with  Father  Chaucer,  that  the 

Queen  of  Faery, 
With  harp,  and  pipe,  and  symphony, 
Were  dwelling  in  the  place. 

Another,  and  even  a  more  familiar,  refuge  of  the  elfin  race 
(if  tradition  is  to  be  trusted)  is  the  glen  of  the  river,  or  rather 
brook,  named  the  Allan,  which  falls  into  the  Tweed  from  the 
northward,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  above  the  present  bridge. 
As  the  streamlet  finds  its  way  behind  Lord  Sommerville's 
hunting-seat,  called  the  Pavilion,  its  valley  has  been  popularly 
termed  the  Fairy  Dean,  or  rather  the  Nameless  Dean,  because 
of  the  supposed  ill-luck  attached  by  the  popular  faith  of  an- 
cient times  to  any  one  who  might  name  or  allude  to  the  race 
whom  our  fathers  distinguished  as  the  Good  Neighbours,  and 
the  Highlanders  called  Daoine  Shie,  or  Men  of  Peace ;  rather 
by  way  of  compliment  than  on  account  of  any  particular  idea 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  7 


of  friendship  or  pacific  relation  which  either  Highlander  or 
Borderer  entertained  towards  the  irritable  beings  whom  they 
thus  distinguished,  or  supposed  them  to  bear  to  humanity.1 

In  evidence  of  the  actual  operations  of  the  fairy  people  even 
at  this  time,  little  pieces  of  calcareous  matter  are  found  in  the 
glen  after  a  flood,  which  either  the  labours  of  those  tiny  artists 
or  the  eddies  of  the  brook  among  the  stones  have  formed  into 
a  fantastic  resemblance  of  cups,  saucers,  basins,  and  the  like, 
in  which  children  who  gather  them  pretend  to  discern  fairy 
utensils. 

Besides  these  circumstances  of  romantic  locality,  mea  pau- 
pera  regna  (as  Captain  Dalgetty  denominates  his  territory  of 
Drumthwacket)  are  bounded  by  a  small  but  deep  lake,  from 
which  eyes  that  yet  look  on  the  light  are  said  to  have  seen 
the  water-bull  ascend,  and  shake  the  hills  with  his  roar. 

Indeed,  the  country  around  Melrose,  if  possessing  less  of  ro- 
mantic beauty  than  some  other  scenes  in  Scotland,  is  connected 
with  so  many  associations  of  a  fanciful  nature,  in  which  the 
imagination  takes  delight,  as  might  well  induce  one  even  less 
attached  to  the  spot  than  the  Author  to  accommodate,  after 
a  general  manner,  the  imaginary  scenes  he  was  framing  to  the 
localities  to  which  he  was  partial.  But  it  would  be  a  misap- 
prehension to  suppose  that,  because  Melrose  may  in  general 
pass  for  Kennaquhair,  or  because  it  agrees  with  scenes  of  the 
Monastery  in  the  circumstances  of  the  drawbridge,  the  mill- 
dam,  and  other  points  of  resemblance,  that  therefore  an  accu- 
rate or  perfect  local  similitude  is  to  be  found  in  all  the  partic- 
ulars of  the  picture.  It  was  not  the  purpose  of  the  Author 
to  present  a  landscape  copied  from  nature,  but  a  piece  of  com- 
position, in  which  a  real  scene,  with  which  he  is  familiar,  had 
afforded  him  some  leading  outlines.  Thus  the  resemblance  of 
the  imaginary  Glendearg  with  the  real  vale  of  the  Allan  is 
far  from  being  minute,  nor  did  the  Author  aim  at  identifying 
them.  This  must  appear  plain  to  all  who  know  the  actual 
character  of  the  Glen  of  Allan,  and  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
read  the  account  of  the  imaginary  Glendearg.  The  stream  in 
the  latter  case  is  described  as  wandering  down  a  romantic  little 
1  See  Rob  Roy,  Note,  Fairy  Superstition,  p.  505. 


8 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


valley,  shirting  itself,  after  the  fashion  of  such  a  brook,  from 
one  side  to  the  other,  as  it  can  most  easily  find  its  passage, 
and  touching  nothing  in  its  progress  that  gives  token  of  culti- 
vation. It  rises  near  a  solitary  tower,  the  abode  of  a  supposed 
'church  vassal,  and  the  scene  of  several  incidents  in  the  Ro- 
mance. 

The  real  Allan,  on  the  contrary,  after  traversing  the  roman- 
tic ravine  called  the  Nameless  Dean,  thrown  off  from  side  to 
side  alternately,  like  a  billiard  ball  repelled  by  the  sides  of 
the  table  on  which  it  has  been  played,  and  in  that  part  of  its 
course  resembling  the  stream  which  pours  down  Glendearg, 
may  be  traced  upwards  into  a  more  open  country,  where  the 
banks  retreat  further  from  each  other,  and  the  vale  exhibits 
a  good  deal  of  dry  ground,  which  has  not  been  neglected  by 
the  active  cultivators  of  the  district.  It  arrives,  too,  at  a  sort 
of  termination,  striking  in  itself,  but  totally  irreconcilable 
with  the  narrative  of  the  Romance.  Instead  of  a  single  peel- 
house,  or  border  tower  of  defence,  such  as  Dame  Glendinning 
is  supposed  to  have  inhabited,  the  head  of  the  Allan,  about 
five  miles  above  its  junction  with  the  Tweed,  shows  three 
ruins  of  Border  houses,  belonging  to  different  proprietors,  and 
each,  from  the  desire  of  mutual  support  so  natural  to  trouble- 
some times,  situated  at  the  extremity  of  the  property  of  which 
it  is  the  principal  messuage.  One  of  these  is  the  ruinous 
mansion-house  of  Hillslap,  formerly  the  property  of  the  Cairn- 
crosses,  and  now  of  Mr.  Innes  of  Stow ;  a  second,  the  tower 
of  Colmslie,  an  ancient  inheritance  of  the  Borthwick  family, 
as  is  testified  by  their  crest,  the  goat's  head,  which  exists  on 
the  ruin ;  a  third,  the  house  of  Langshaw,  also  ruinous,  vbut 
near  which  the  proprietor,  Mr.  Baillie  of  Jerviswood  and  Mel- 
lerstain,  has  built  a  small  shooting-box. 

All  these  ruins,  so  strangely  huddled  together  in  a  very  soli- 
tary spot,  have  recollections  and  traditions  of  their  own,  but 
none  of  them  bear  the  most  distant  resemblance  to  the  descrip- 
tions in  the  Romance  of  the  Monastery;  and  as  the  Author 
could  hardly  have  erred  so  grossly  regarding  a  spot  within  a 
morning's  ride  of  his  own  house,  the  inference  is  that  no  re- 
semblance was  intended.    Hillslap  is  remembered  by  the  hu- 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  9 


mours  of  the  last  inhabitants,  two  or  three  elderly  ladies,  of 
the  class  of  Miss  Bayland,  in  the  Old  Manor  House,  though 
less  important  by  birth  and  fortune.  Colmslie  is  commemo- 
rated in  song : 

Colmslie  stands  on  Colmslie  hill, 

The  water  it  flows  round  Colmslie  mill ; 

The  mill  and  the  kiln  gang  bonnily, 

And  it's  up  with  the  whippers  of  Colmslie ! 

Langshaw,  although  larger  than  the  other  mansions  assem- 
bled at  the  head  of  the  supposed  Glendearg,  has  nothing  about 
it  more  remarkable  than  the  inscription  of  the  present  propri- 
etor over  his  shooting-lodge —  Utinam  hanc  etiam  viris  impleam 
amicis — a  modest  wish,  which  I  know  no  one  more  capable  of 
attaining  upon  an  extended  scale  than  the  gentleman  who  has 
expressed  it  upon  a  limited  one. 1 

Having  thus  shown  that  I  could  say  something  of  these 
desolated  towers,  which  the  desire  of  social  intercourse,  or 
the  facility  of  mutual  defence,  had  drawn  together  at  the  head 
of  this  glen,  I  need  not  add  any  further  reason  to  show  that 
there  is  no  resemblance  between  them  and  the  solitary  habita- 
tion of  Dame  Elspeth  Glendinning.  Beyond  these  dwellings 
are  some  remains  of  natural  wood,  and  a  considerable  portion 
of  morass  and  bog ;  but  I  would  not  advise  any  who  may  be 
curious  in  localities  to  spend  time  in  looking  for  the  fountain 
and  holly-tree  of  the  White  Lady. 

While  I  am  on  the  subject,  I  may  add  that  Captain  Clutter- 
buck,  the  imaginary  editor  of  the  Monastery,  has  no  real  proto- 

1  Mr.  John  Borthwick  of  Crookston,  in  a  note  to  the  publisher  (June  14, 
1843) ,  says  that  Sir  Walter  has  reversed  the  proprietorship  of  these  towers 
— that  Colmslie  belonged  to  Mr.  Innes  of  Stow,  while  Hillslap  forms  part 
of  his  estate  of  Crookston.  He  adds  :  "In  proof  that  the  tower  of  Hills- 
lap,  which  I  have  taken  measures  to  preserve  from  injury,  was  chiefly  in 
his  head,  as  the  tower  of  Glendearg,  when  writing  the  Monastery,  I  may 
mention  that,  on  one  of  the  occasions  when  I  had  the  honour  of  being  a 
visitor  at  Abbotsford,  the  stables  then  being  full,  I  sent  a  pony  to  be  put 
up  at  our  tenant's  at  Hillslap: — 'Well,'  said  Sir  Walter,  'if  you  do  that, 
you  must  trust  for  its  not  being  lifted  before  to-morrow  to  the  protection 
of  Halbert  Glendinning  against  Christie  of  the  Clinthill.'  At  page  258,  the 
4  winding  stair'  which  the  monk  ascended  is  described.  The  winding 
stone  stair  is  still  to  be  seen  in  Hillslap,  but  not  in  either  of  the  other  two 
towers."  It  is,  however,  probable,  from  the  goat's  head  crest  on  Colmslie, 
that  that  tower  also  had  been  of  old  a  possession  of  the  Borthwicks  (Laing). 


10 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


type  in  the  village  of  Melrose  or  neighbourhood  that  ever  I  saw 
or  heard  of.  To  give  some  individuality  to  this  personage,  he 
is  described  as  a  character  which  sometimes  occurs  in  actual 
society — a  person  who,  having  spent  his  life  within  the  neces- 
sary duties  of  a  technical  profession,  from  which  he  has  been 
at  length  emancipated,  finds  himself  without  any  occupation 
whatever,  and  is  apt  to  become  the  prey  of  ennui,  until  he 
discovers  some  petty  subject  of  investigation  commensurate 
to  his  talents,  the  study  of  which  gives  him  employment  in 
solitude;  while  the  conscious  possession  of  information  pe- 
culiar to  himself  adds  to  his  consequence  in  society.  I  have 
often  observed  that  the  lighter  and  trivial  branches  of  anti-. 
quarian  study  are  singularly  useful  in  relieving  vacuity  of 
such  a  kind,  and  have  known  them  serve  many  a  Captain 
Clutterbuck  to  retreat  upon ;  I  was  therefore  a  good  deal  sur- 
prised when  I  found  the  antiquarian  captain  identified  with  a 
neighbour  and  friend  of  my  own,  who  could  never  have  been 
confounded  with  him  by  any  one  who  had  read  the  book,  and 
seen  the  party  alluded  to.  This  erroneous  identification  oc- 
curs iir  a  work  entitled,  Illustrations  of  the  Author  of  Waverley, 
being  Notices  and  Anecdotes  of  real  Characters,  Scenes,  and  In- 
cidents, supposed  to  be  described  in  his  Works,  by  Robert  Cham- 
bers. This  work  was,  of  course,  liable  to  many  errors,  as  any 
one  of  the  kind  must  be,  whatever  may  be  the  ingenuity  of 
the  author,  which  takes  the  task  of  explaining  what  can  be 
only  known  to  another  person.  Mistakes  of  place  or  inani- 
mate things  referred  to  are  of  very  little  moment;  but  the 
ingenious  author  ought  to  have  been  more  cautious  of  attach- 
ing real  names  to  fictitious  characters.  I  think  it  is  in  the 
Spectator  we  read  of  a  rustic  wag  who,  in  a  copy  of  The  Whole 
Duty  of  Man,  wrote  opposite  to  every  vice  the  name  of  some 
individual  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  thus  converted  that  ex- 
cellent work  into  a  libel  on  a  whole  parish. 

The  scenery  being  thus  ready  at  the  Author's  hand,  the 
reminiscences  of  the  country  were  equally  favourable.  In  a 
land  where  the  horses  remained  almost  constantly  saddled, 
and  the  sword  seldom  quitted  the  warrior's  side;  where  war 
was  the  natural  and  constant  state  of  the  inhabitants,  and 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  11 


peace  only  existed  in  the  shape  of  brief  and  feverish  truces, 
there  could  be  no  want  of  the  means  to  complicate  and  extri- 
cate the  incidents  of  his  narrative  at  pleasure.  There  was  a 
disadvantage,  notwithstanding,  in  treading  this  Border  dis- 
trict, for  it  -had  been  already  ransacked  by  the  Author  him- 
self, as  well  as  others;  and  unless  presented  under  a  new 
light,  was  likely  to  afford  ground  to  the  objection  of  crambe 
bis  cocta. 

To  attain  the  indispensable  quality  of  novelty,  something, 
it  was  thought,  might  be  gained  by  contrasting  the  character 
of  the  vassals  of  the  church  with  those  of  the  dependants  of 
the  lay  barons,  by  whom  they  were  surrounded.  But  much 
advantage  could  not  be  derived  from  this.  There  were,  in- 
deed, differences  betwixt  the  two  classes,  but,  like  tribes  in 
the  mineral  and  vegetable  world,  which,  resembling  each  other 
to  common  eyes,  can  be  sufficiently  well  discriminated  by  natu- 
ralists, they  were  yet  too  similar  upon  the  whole  to  be  placed 
in  marked  contrast  with  each  other. 

Machinery  remained — the  introduction  of  the  supernatural 
and  marvellous,  the  resort  of  distressed  authors  since  the  days 
of  Horace,  but  whose  privileges  as  a  sanctuary  have  been  dis- 
puted in  the  present  age,  and  wellnigh  exploded.  The  popu- 
lar belief  no  longer  allows  the  possibility  of  existence  to  the 
race  of  mysterious  beings  which  hovered  betwixt  this  world 
and  that  which  is  invisible.  The  fairies  have  abandoned 
their  moonlight  turf;  the  witch  no  longer  holds  her  black 
orgies  in  the  hemlock  dell;  and 

Even  the  last  lingering  phantom  of  the  brain, 
The  churchyard  ghost,  is  now  at  rest  again. 

From  the  discredit  attached  to  the  vulgar  and  more  common 
modes  in  which  the  Scottish  superstition  displays  itself,  the 
Author  was  induced  to  have  recourse  to  the  beautiful,  though 
almost  forgotten,  theory  of  astral  spirits,  or  creatures  of  the 
elements,  surpassing  human  beings  in  knowledge  and  power, 
but  inferior  to  them  as  being  subject,  after  a  certain  space  of 
years,  to  a  death  which  is  to  them  annihilation,  as  they  have 
no  share  in  the  promise  made  to  the  sons  of  Adam.  These 


12 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


spirits  are  supposed  to  be  of  four  distinct  kinds,  as  the  ele- 
ments from  which  they  have  their  origin,  and  are  known,  to 
those  who  have  studied  the  cabalistical  philosophy,  by  the 
names  of  Sylphs,  Gnomes,  Salamanders,  and  Naiads,  as  they 
belong  to  the  elements  of  Air,  Earth,  Tire,  or  Water.  The 
general  reader  will  find  an  entertaining  account  of  these  ele- 
mentary spirits  in  the  French  book  entitled,  Entretiens  du 
Compte  du  Gabalis.  The  ingenious  Compte  de  la  Motte  Fouque 
composed,  in  German,  one  of  the  most  successful  productions  of 
his  fertile  brain,  where  a  beautiful  and  even  afflicting  effect 
is  produced  by  the  introduction  of  a  water-nymph,  who  loses 
the  privilege  of  immortality  by  consenting  to  become  acces- 
sible to  human  feelings,  and  uniting  her  lot  with  that  of  a 
mortal,  who  treats  her  with  ingratitude. 

In  imitation  of  an  example  so  successful,  the  White  Lady 
of  Avenel  was  introduced  into  the  following  sheets.  She  is 
represented  as  connected  with  the  family  of  Avenel  by  one  of 
those  mystic  ties  which,  in  ancient  times,  were  supposed  to 
exist,  in  certain  circumstances,  between  the  creatures  of  the 
elements  and  the  children  of  men.  Such  instances  of  mys- 
terious union  are  recognised  in  Ireland,  in  the  real  Milesian 
families,  who  are  possessed  of  a  Banshee ;  and  they  are  known 
among  the  traditions  of  the  Highlanders,  which,  in  many 
cases,  attached  an  immortal  being  or  spirit  to  the  service  of 
particular  families  or  tribes. 

These  demons,  if  they  are  to  be  called  so,  announced  good 
or  evil  fortune  to  the  families  connected  with  them;  and 
though  some  only  condescended  to  meddle  with  matters  of 
importance,  others,  like  the  May  Mollach,  or  Maid  of  the 
Hairy  Arms,  condescended  to  mingle  in  ordinary  sports,  and 
even  to  direct  the  chief  how  to  play  at  draughts. 

There  was,  therefore,  no  great  violence  in  supposing  such 
a  being  as  this  to  have  existed,  while  the  elementary  spirits 
were  believed  in;  but  it  was  more  difficult  to  describe  or  imag- 
ine its  attributes  and  principles  of  action.  Shakspeare,  the 
first  of  authorities  in  such  a  case,  has  painted  Ariel,  that 
beautiful  creature  of  his  fancy,  as  only  approaching  so  near 
to  humanity  as  to  know  the  nature  of  that  sympathy  which 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  13 


the  creatures  of  clay  felt  for  each  other,  as  we  learn  from  the 
expression :  "  Mine  would  if  I  were  human. "  The  inferences 
from  this  are  singular,  but  seem  capable  of  regular  deduction. 
A  being,  however  superior  to  man  in  length  of  life,  in  power 
over  the  elements,  in  certain  perceptions  respecting  the 
present,  the  past,  and  the  future,  yet  still  incapable  of  hu- 
man passions,  of  sentiments  of  moral  good  and  evil,  of  mer- 
iting future  rewards  or  punishments,  belongs,  rather  to  the 
class  of  animals  than  of  human  creatures,  and  must  therefore 
be  presumed  to  act  more  from  temporary  benevolence  or  ca- 
price than  from  anything  approaching  to  feeling  or  reasoning. 
Such  a  being's  superiority  in  power  can  only  be  compared  to 
that  of  the  elephant  or  lion,  who  are  greater  in  strength  than 
man,  though  inferior  in  the  scale  of  creation.  The  partiali- 
ties which  we  suppose  such  spirits  to  entertain  must  be  like 
those  of  the  dog ;  their  sudden  starts  of  passion,  or  the  indul- 
gence of  a  frolic,  or  mischief,  may  be  compared  to  those  of 
the  numerous  varieties  of  the  cat.  All  these  propensities  are, 
however,  controlled  by  the  laws  which  render  the  elementary 
race  subordinate  to  the  command  of  man — liable  to  be  sub- 
jected by  his  science  (so  the  sect  of  Gnostics  believed,  and  on 
this  turned  the  Rosicrucian  philosophy),  or  to  be  overpowered 
by  his  superior  courage  and  daring,  when  it  set  their  illusions 
at  defiance. 

It  is  with  reference  to  this  idea  of  the  supposed  spirits  of 
the  elements  that  the  White  Lady  of  Avenel  is  represented  as 
acting  a  varying,  capricious,  and  inconsistent  part  in  the  pages 
assigned  to  her  in  the  narrative ;  manifesting  interest  and  at- 
tachment to  the  family  with  whom  her  destinies  are  associated, 
but  evincing  whim,  and  even  a  species  of  malevolence,  tow- 
ards other  mortals,  as  the  sacristan  and  the  Border  robber, 
whose  incorrect  life  subjected  them  to  receive  petty  mortifi- 
cations at  her  hand.  The  White  Lady  is  scarcely  supposed, 
however,  to  have  possessed  either  the  power  or  the  inclination 
to  do  more  than  inflict  terror  or  create  embarrassment,  and 
is  always  subjected  by  those  mortals  who,  by  virtuous  resolu- 
tion and  mental  energy,  could  assert  superiority  over  her.  In 
these  particulars  she  seems  to  constitute  a  being  of  a  middle 


14 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


class,  between  the  esprit  follet,  who  places  its  pleasure  in  mis- 
leading and  tormenting  mortals,  and  the  benevolent  fairy  of 
the  East,  who  uniformly  guides,  aids,  and  supports  them. 

Either,  however,  the  Author  executed  his  purpose  indiffer- 
ently or  the  public  did  not  approve  of  it;  for  the  White  Lady 
of  Avenel  was  far  from  being  popular.  He  does  not  now 
make  the  present  statement  in  the  view  of  arguing  readers 
into  a  more  favourable  opinion  on  the  subject,  but  merely  with 
the  purpose  of  exculpating  himself  from  the  charge  of  having 
wantonly  intruded  into  the  narrative  a  being  of  inconsistent 
powers  and  propensities. 

In  the  delineation  of  another  character,  the  Author  of  the 
Monastery  failed  where  he  hoped  for  some  success.  As  noth- 
ing is  so  successful  a  subject  of  ridicule  as  the  fashionable 
follies  of  the  time,  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  more  serious 
scenes  of  his  narrative  might  be  relieved  by  the  humour  of  a 
cavaliero  of  the  age  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  In  every  period,  the 
attempt  to  gain  and  maintain  the  highest  rank  of  society  has 
depended  on  the  power  of  assuming  and  supporting  a  certain 
fashionable  kind  of  affectation,  usually  connected  with  some 
vivacity  of  talent  and  energy  of  character,  but  distinguished 
at  the  same  time  by  a  transcendental  flight  beyond  sound  rea- 
son and  common  sense ;  both  faculties  too  vulgar  to  be  admit- 
ted into  the  estimate  of  one  who  claims  to  be  esteemed  "a 
choice  spirit  of  the  age."  These,  in  their  different  phases, 
constitute  the  gallants  of  the  day,  whose  boast  it  is  to  drive 
the  whims  of  fashion  to  extremity. 

On  all  occasions,  the  manners  of  the  sovereign,  the  court, 
and  the  time  must  give  the  tone  to  the  peculiar  description 
Df  qualities  by  which  those  who  would  attain  the  height  of 
fashion  must  seek  to  distinguish  themselves.  The  reign  of 
Elizabeth,  being  that  of  a  maiden  queen,  was  distinguished 
by  the  decorum  of  the  courtiers,  and  especially  the  affecta- 
tion of  the  deepest  deference  to  the  sovereign.  After  the  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  Queen's  matchless  perfections,  the  same 
devotion  was  extended  to  beauty  as  it  existed  among  the  lesser 
stars  in  her  court,  who  sparkled,  as  it  was  the  mode  to  say, 
by  her  reflected  lustre.    It  is  true,  that  gallant  knights  no 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  15 


longer  vowed  to  Heaven,  the  peacock,  and  the  ladies  to  per- 
form some  feat  of  extravagant  chivalry,  in  which  they  endan- 
gered the  lives  of  others  as  well  as  their  own ;  but  although 
their  chivalrous  displays  of  personal  gallantry  seldom  went 
further  in  Elizabeth's  days  than  the  tilt-yard,  where  barri- 
cades, called  barriers,  prevented  the  shock  of  the  horses,  and 
limited  the  display  of  the  cavaliers'  skill  to  the  comparatively 
safe  encounter  of  their  lances,  the  language  of  the  lovers  to 
their  ladies  was  still  in  the  exalted  terms  which  Amadis  would 
have  addressed  to  Oriana,  before  encountering  a  dragon  for 
her  sake.  This  tone  of  romantic  gallantry  found  a  clever  but 
conceited  author  to  reduce  it  to  a  species  of  constitution  and 
form,  and  lay  down  the  courtly  manner  of  conversation,  in  a 
pedantic  book  called  Euphues  and  his  England.  Of  this,  a 
brief  account  is  given  in  the  text,  to  which  it  may  now  be 
proper  to  make  some  additions. 

The  extravagance  of  Euphuism,  or  a  symbolical  jargon  of 
the  same  class,  predominates  in  the  romances  of  Calprenede  and 
Scuderi,  which  were  read  for  the  amusement  of  the  fair  sex  of 
France  during  the  long  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  were  sup- 
posed to  contain  the  only  legitimate  language  of  love  and  gal- 
lantry. In  this  reign  they  encountered  the  satire  of  Moliere  and 
Boileau.  A  similar  disorder,  spreading  into  private  society, 
formed  the  ground  of  the  affected  dialogue  of  the  precieuses, 
as  they  were  styled,  who  formed  the  coterie  of  the  Hotel  de 
Rambouillet,  and  afforded  Moliere  matter  for  his  admirable 
comedy,  Les  Precieuses  Ridicules.  In  England,  the  humour 
does  not  seem  to  have  long  survived  the  accession  of  James  I. 

The  Author  had  the  vanity  to  think  that  a  character,  whose 
peculiarities  should  turn  on  extravagances  which  were  once 
universally  fashionable,  might  be  read  in  a  fictitious  story 
with  a  good  chance  of  affording  amusement  to  the  existing 
generation,  who,  fond  as  they  are  of  looking  back  on  the  ac- 
tions and  manners  of  their  ancestors,  might  be  also  supposed 
to  be  sensible  of  their  absurdities.  He  must  fairly  acknow- 
ledge that  he  was  disappointed,  and  that  the  Euphuist,  far 
from  being  accounted  a  well-drawn  and  humorous  character 
of  the  period,  was  condemned  as  unnatural  and  absurd. 


16 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


It  would  be  easy  to  account  for  this  failure  by  supposing 
the  defect  to  arise  from  the  Author's  want  of  skill,  and  prob- 
ably many  readers  may  not  be  inclined  to  look  further.  But, 
as  the  Author  himself  can  scarcely  be  supposed  willing  to  ac- 
quiesce in  this  final  cause,  if  any  other  can  be  alleged,  he  has 
been  led  to  suspect  that,  contrary  to  what  he  originally  sup- 
posed, his  subject  was  injudiciously  chosen,  in  which,  and  not 
in  his  mode  of  treating  it,  lay  the  source  of  the  want  of  success. 

The  manners  of  a  rude  people  are  always  founded  on  na- 
ture, and  therefore  the  feelings  of  a  more  polished  generation 
immediately  sympathise  with  them.  We  need  no  numerous 
notes,  no  antiquarian  dissertations,  to  enable  the  most  igno- 
rant to  recognise  the  sentiments  and  diction  of  the  characters 
of  Homer ;  we  have  but,  as  Lear  says,  to  strip  off  our  lend- 
ings — to  set  aside  the  factitious  principles  and  adornments 
which  we  have  received  from  our  comparatively  artificial  sys- 
tem of  society,  and  our  natural  feelings  are  in  unison  with 
those  of  the  bard  of  Chios  and  the  heroes  who  live  in  his 
verses.  It  is  the  same  with  a  great  part  of  the  narratives  of 
my  friend,  Mr.  Cooper.  We  sympathise  with  his  Indian  chiefs 
and  backwoodsmen,  and  acknowledge,  in  the  characters  which 
he  presents  to  us,  the  same  truth  of  human  nature  by  which 
we  should  feel  ourselves  influenced  if  placed  in  the  same  con- 
dition. So  much  is  this  the  case  that,  though  it  is  difficult, 
or  almost  impossible,  to  reclaim  a  savage,  bred  from  his  youth 
to  war  and  the  chase,  to  the  restraints  and  the  duties  of  civ- 
ilised life,  nothing  is  more  easy  or  common  than  to  find  men 
who  have  been  educated  in  all  the  habits  and  comforts  of  im- 
proved society  willing  to  exchange  them  for  the  wild  labours 
of  the  hunter  and  the  fisher.  The  very  amusements  most  pur- 
sued and  relished  by  men  of  all  ranks,  whose  constitutions 
permit  active  exercise,  are  hunting,  fishing,  and  in  some  in- 
stances war,  the  natural  and  necessary  business  of  the  savage 
of  Dry  den,  where  his  hero  talks  of  being 

As  free  as  nature  first  made  man, 
When  wild  in  woods  the  noble  savage  ran. 

But  although  the  occupations,  and  even  the  sentiments,  of 

human  beings  in  a  primitive  state  find  access  and  interest  in 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  17 


the  minds  of  the  more  civilised  part  of  the  species,  it  does  not 
therefore  follow  that  the  national  tastes,  opinions,  and  follies 
of  one  civilised  period  should  afford  either  the  same  interest 
or  the  same  amusement  to  those  of  another.  These  generally, 
when  driven  to  extravagance,  are  founded  not  upon  any  natu- 
ral taste  proper  to  the  species,  but  upon  the  growth  of  some 
peculiar  cast  of  affectation,  with  which  mankind  in  general, 
and  succeeding  generations  in  particular,  feel  no  common  in- 
terest or  sympathy.  The  extravagances  of  coxcombry  in  man- 
ners and  apparel  are  indeed  the  legitimate,  and  often  the  suc- 
cessful, objects  of  satire,  during  the  time  when  they  exist. 
In  evidence  of  this,  theatrical  critics  may  observe  how  many 
dramatic  jeux  d' esprit  are  well  received  every  season,  because 
the  satirist  levels  at  some  well-known  or  fashionable  absurd- 
ity; or,  in  the  dramatic  phrase,  "shoots  folly  as  it  flies." 
But  when  the  peculiar  kind  of  folly  keeps  the  wing  no  longer, 
it  is  reckoned  but  waste  of  powder  to  pour  a  discharge  of 
ridicule  on  what  has  ceased  to  exist ;  and  the  pieces  in  which 
such  forgotten  absurdities  are  made  the  subject  of  ridicule  fall 
quietly  into  oblivion  with  the  follies  which  gave  them  fashion, 
or  only  continue  to  exist  on  the  scene  because  they  contain 
some  other  more  permanent  interest  than  that  which  connects 
them  with  manners  and  follies  of  a  temporary  character. 

This,  perhaps,  affords  a  reason  why  the  comedies  of  Ben 
Jonson,  founded  upon  system,  or  what  the  age  termed  hu- 
mours— by  which  was  meant  factitious  and  affected  charac- 
ters, superinduced  on  that  which  was  common  to  the  rest 
of  their  race — in  spite  of  acute  satire,  deep  scholarship,  and 
strong  sense,  do  not  now  afford  general  pleasure,  but  are  con- 
fined to  the  closet  of  the  antiquary,  whose  studies  have  as- 
sured him  that  the  personages  of  the  dramatist  were  once, 
though  they  are  now  no  longer,  portraits  of  existing  nature. 

Let  us  take  another  example  of  our  hypothesis  from  Shak- 
speare  himself,  who,  of  all  authors,  drew  his  portraits  for  all 
ages.  With  the  whole  sum  of  the  idolatry  which  affects  us 
at  his  name,  the  mass  of  readers  peruse  without  amusement 
the  characters  formed  on  the  extravagances  of  temporary  fash- 
ion -5  and  the  Euphuist  Don  Armado,  the  pedant  Holof ernes, 


18 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


even  Nym  and  Pistol,  are  read  with  little  pleasure  by  the 
mass  of  the  public,  being  portraits  of  which  we  cannot  recog- 
nise the  humour,  because  the  originals  no  longer  exist.  In 
like  manner,  while  the  distresses  of  Eomeo  and  Juliet  con- 
tinue to  interest  every  bosom,  Mercutio,  drawn  as  an  accurate 
representation  of  the  finished  fine  gentleman  of  the  period, 
and  as  such  received  by  the  unanimous  approbation  of  contem- 
poraries, has  so  little  to  interest  the  present  age  that,  stripped 
of  all  his  puns  and  quirks  of  verbal  wit,  he  only  retains  his 
place  in  the  scene  in  virtue  of  his  fine  and  fanciful  speech  upon 
dreaming,  which  belongs  to  no  particular  age,  and  because  he 
is  a  personage  whose  presence  is  indispensable  to  the  plot. 

We  have  already  prosecuted  perhaps  too  far  an  argument 
the  tendency  of  which  is  to  prove  that  the  introduction  of  an 
humorist,  acting,  like  Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton,  upon  some  forgotten 
and  obsolete  model  of  folly,  once  fashionable,  is  rather  likely 
to  awaken  the  disgust  of  the  reader,  as  unnatural,  than  find 
him  food  for  laughter.  Whether  owing  to  this  theory,  or 
whether  to  the  more  simple  and  probable  cause  of  the  Au- 
thor's failure  in  the  delineation  of  the  subject  he  had  pro- 
posed to  himself,  the  formidable  objection  of  incredulus  odi 
was  applied  to  the  Euphuist,  as  well  as  to  the  White  Lady  of 
Avenel ;  and  the  one  was  denounced  as  unnatural,  while  the 
other  was  rejected  as  impossible. 

There  was  little  in  the  story  to  atone  for  these  failures  in 
two  principal  points.  The  incidents  were  inartificially  hud- 
dled together.  There  was  no  part  of  the  intrigue  to  which 
deep  interest  was  found  to  apply;  and  the  conclusion  was 
brought  about,  not  by  incidents  arising  out  of  the  story  it- 
self, but  in  consequence  of  public  transactions  with  which  the 
narrative  has  little  connexion,  and  which  the  reader  had  little 
opportunity  to  become  acquainted  with. 

This,  if  not  a  positive  fault,  was  yet  a  great  defect  in  the 
Komance.  It  is  true,  that  not  only  the  practice  of  some  great 
authors  in  this  department,  but  even  the  general  course  of 
human  life  itself,  may  be  quoted  in  favour  of  this  more  obvi- 
ous, and  less  artificial,  practice  of  arranging  a  narrative.  It 
is  seldom  that  the  same  circle  of  personages  who  have  sur- 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY. 


19 


rounded  an  individual  at  his  first  outset  in  life  continue  to 
have  an  interest  in  his  career  till  his  fate  comes  to  a  crisis. 
On  the  contrary,  and  more  especially  if  the  events  of  his  life 
be  of  a  varied  character,  and  worth  communicating  to  others, 
or  to  the  world,  the  hero's  later  connexions  are  usually  to- 
tally separated  from  those  with  whom  he  began  the  voyage, 
but  whom  the  individual  has  outsailed,  or  who  have  drifted 
astray,  or  foundered  on  the  passage.  This  hackneyed  com- 
parison holds  good  in  another  point.  The  numerous  vessels 
of  so  many  different  sorts,  and  destined  for  such  different 
purposes,  which  are  launched  in  the  same  mighty  ocean,  al- 
though each  endeavours  to  pursue  its  own  course,  are  in  every 
case  more  influenced  by  the  winds  and  tides,  which  are  com- 
mon to  the  element  which  they  all  navigate,  than  by  their 
own  separate  exertions.  And  it  is  thus  in  the  world  that, 
when  human  prudence  has  done  its  best,  some  general,  per- 
haps national,  event  destroys  the  schemes  of  the  individual, 
as  the  casual  touch  of  a  more  powerful  being  sweeps  away  the 
web  of  the  spider. 

Many  excellent  romances  have  been  composed  in  this  view 
of  human  life,  where  the  hero  is  conducted  through  a  variety 
of  detached  scenes,  in  which  various  agents  appear  and  dis- 
appear, without,  perhaps,  having  any  permanent  influence  on 
the  progress  of  the  story.  Such  is  the  structure  of  Gil  Bias, 
Roderick  Random,  and  the  lives  and  adventures  of  many  other 
heroes,  who  are  described  as  running  through  different  sta- 
tions of  life,  and  encountering  various  adventures,  which  are 
only  connected  with  each  other  by  having  happened  to  be 
witnessed  by  the  same  individual,  whose  identity  unites  them 
together,  as  the  string  of  a  necklace  links  the  beads,  which 
are  otherwise  detached. 

But  though  such  an  unconnected  course  of  adventures  is 
what  most  frequently  occurs  in  nature,  yet  the  province  of 
the  romance  writer  being  artificial,  there  is  more  required 
from  him  than  a  mere  compliance  with  the  simplicity  of  real- 
ity ;  just  as  we  demand  from  the  scientific  gardener  that  he 
shall  arrange,  in  curious  knots  and  artificial  parterres,  the 
flowers  which  "nature  boon"  distributes  freely  on  hill  and 


20 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


dale.  Fielding,  accordingly,  in  most  of  his  novels,  but  es- 
pecially in  Tom  Jones,  his  chef-d'oeuvre,  has  set  the  distin- 
guished example  of  a  story  regularly  built  and  consistent  in 
all  its  parts,  in  which  nothing  occurs,  and  scarce  a  personage 
is  introduced,  that  has  not  some  share  in  tending  to  advance 
the  catastrophe. 

To  demand  equal  correctness  and  felicity  in  those  who  may 
follow  in  the  track  of  that  illustrious  novelist  would  be  to 
fetter  too  much  the  power  of  giving  pleasure,  by  surrounding 
it  with  penal  rules ;  since  of  this  sort  of  light  literature  it  may 
be  especially  said,  Tout  genre  est  permis  hors  le  genre  ennuyeux. 
Still,  however,  the  more  closely  and  happily  the  story  is  com- 
bined, and  the  more  natural  and  felicitous  the  catastrophe, 
the  nearer  such  a  composition  will  approach  the  perfection  of 
the  novelist's  art;  nor  can  an  author  neglect  this  branch  of 
his  profession  without  incurring  proportional  censure. 

For  such  censure  the  Monastery  gave  but  too  much  occasion. 
The  intrigue  of  the  Komance,  neither  very  interesting  in  it- 
self nor  very  happily  detailed,  is  at  length  finally  disentan- 
gled by  the  breaking  out  of  national  hostilities  between  Eng- 
land and  Scotland,  and  the  as  sudden  renewal  of  the  truce. 
Instances  of  this  kind,  it  is  true,  cannot  in  reality  have  been 
uncommon,  but  the  resorting  to  such,  in  order  to  accomplish 
the  catastrophe,  as  by  a  tour  deforce,  was  objected  to  as  inar- 
tificial, and  not  perfectly  intelligible  to  the  general  reader. 

Still,  the  Monastery,  though  exposed  to  severe  and  just 
criticism,  did  not  fail,  judging  from  the  extent  of  its  circula- 
tion, to  have  some  interest  for  the  public.  And  this,  too,  was 
according  to  the  ordinary  course  of  such  matters;  for  it 
very  seldom  happens  that  literary  reputation  is  gained  by  a 
single  effort,  and  still  more  rarely  is  it  lost  by  a  solitary  mis- 
carriage. 

The  Author,  therefore,  had  his  days  of  grace  allowed  him, 
and  time,  if  he  pleased,  to  comfort  himself  with  the  burden 
of  the  old  Scots  song : 

If  it  isna  weel  bobbit, 
We'll  bob  it  again. 

Abbotsford,  1st  November  1830, 


INTRODUCTORY  EPISTLE 


PROM 

CAPTAIN  CLUTTEKBUCK, 

Late  of  his  Majesty's  Regiment  of  Infantry 

to 

THE  AUTHOE  OF  WAVEBLEY 


Sir  :  Although  I  do  not  pretend  to  the  pleasure  of  your  per- 
sonal acquaintance,  like  many  whom  I  believe  to  be  equally 
strangers  to  you,  I  am  nevertheless  interested  in  your  publica- 
tions, and  desire  their  continuance ;  not  that  I  pretend  to  much 
taste  in  fictitious  composition,  or  that  I  am  apt  to  be  interested 
in  your  grave  scenes,  or  amused  by  those  which  are  meant  to 
be  lively.  I  will  not  disguise  from  you  that  I  have  yawned 
over  the  last  interview  of  Mac-Ivor  and  his  sister, 1  and  fell 
fairly  asleep  while  the  schoolmaster  was  reading  the  humours 
of  Dandie  Dinmont.  You  see,  sir,  that  I  scorn  to  solicit  your 
favour  in  a  way  to  which  you  are  no  stranger.  If  the  papers 
I  inclose  you  are  worth  nothing,  I  will  not  endeavour  to  recom- 
mend them  by  personal  flattery,  as  a  bad  cook  pours  rancid 
butter  upon  stale  fish.  No,  sir!  What  I  respect  in  you  is 
the  light  you  have  occasionally  thrown  on  national  antiqui- 
ties— a  study  which  I  have  commenced  rather  late  in  life,  but 
to  which  I  am  attached  with  the  devotion  of  a  first  love,  be- 
cause it  is  the  only  study  I  ever  cared  a  farthing  for. 

You  shall  have  my  history,  sir  (it  will  not  reach  to  three 
volumes),  before  that  of  my  manuscript;  and  as  you  usually 
1  [Waverley  and  Flora  Mac-Ivor.] 


22 


WAVEKLEY  NOVELS. 


throw  out  a  few  lines  of  verse  (by  way  of  skirmishers,  I  sup- 
pose) at  the  head  of  each  division  of  prose,  I  have  had  the 
luck  to  light  upon  a  stanza  in  the  schoolmaster's  copy  of 
Burns  which  describes  me  exactly.  I  love  it  the  better,  be- 
cause it  was  originally  designed  for  Captain  Grose,  an  excel- 
lent antiquary,  though,  like  yourself,  somewhat  too  apt  to 
treat  with  levity  his  own  pursuits : 

'Tis  said  he  was  a  soldier  bred, 
And  one  wad  rather  fa' en  than  fled  ; 
But  now  he  has  quit  the  spurtle  blade, 

And  dog-skin  wallet, 
And  ta'en  the — antiquarian  trade, 

I  think  they  call  it. 

I  never  could  conceive  what  influenced  me,  when  a  boy,  in 
the  choice  of  a  profession.  Military  zeal  and  ardour  it  was 
not  which  made  me  stand  out  for  a  commission  in  the  Scots 
Fusiliers,  when  my  tutors  and  curators  wished  to  bind  me 
apprentice  to  old  David  Stiles,  clerk  to  his  Majesty's  Signet. 
I  say,  military  zeal  it  was  not ;  for  I  was  no  fighting  boy  in 
my  own  person,  and  cared  not  a  penny  to  read  the  history  of 
the  heroes  who  turned  the  world  upside  down  in  former  ages. 
As  for  courage,  I  had,  as  I  have  since  discovered,  just  as  much 
of  it  as  served  my  turn,  and  not  one  grain  of  surplus.  I  soon 
found  out,  indeed,  that  in  action  there  was  more  danger  in 
running  away  than  in  standing  fast ;  and  besides,  I  could  not 
afford  to  lose  my  commission,  which  was  my  chief  means  of 
support.  But,  as  for  that  overboiling  valour  which  I  have 
heard  many  of  ours  talk  of,  though  I  seldom  observed  that  it 
influenced  them  in  the  actual  affair — that  exuberant  zeal  which 
courts  danger  as  a  bride,  truly  my  courage  was  of  a  complexion 
much  less  ecstatical. 

Again,  the  love  of  a  red  coat,  which,  in  default  of  all  other 
aptitudes  to  the  profession,  has  made  many  a  bad  soldier  and 
some  good  ones,  was  an  utter  stranger  to  my  disposition.  I 
cared  not  a  "  bodle  "  for  the  company  of  the  misses.  Nay, 
though  there  was  a  boarding-school  in  the  village,  and  though 
we  used  to  meet  with  its  fair  inmates  at  Simon  Lightfoot's 
weekly  practising,  I  cannot  recollect  any  strong  emotions 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY. 


23 


being  excited  on  these  occasions,  excepting  the  infinite  regret 
with  which  I  went  through  the  polite  ceremonial  of  presenting 
my  partner  with  an  orange,  thrust  into  my  pocket  by  my  aunt 
for  this  special  purpose,  but  which,  had  I  dared,  I  certainly 
would  have  secreted  for  my  own  personal  use.  As  for  vanity, 
or  love  of  finery  for  itself,  I  was  such  a  stranger  to  it  that  the 
difficulty  was  great  to  make  me  brush  my  coat  and  appear  in 
proper  trim  upon  parade.  I  shall  never  forget  the  rebuke  of 
my  old  colonel  on  a  morning  when  the  King  reviewed  a  brigade 
of  which  ours  made  part.  "  I  am  no  friend  to  extravagance, 
Ensign  Clutterbuck, "  said  he;  "but,  on  the  day  when  we  are 
to  pass  before  the  sovereign  of  the  kingdom,  in  the  t  name  of 
God  I  would  have  at  least  shown  him  an  inch  of  clean  linen." 

Thus,  a  stranger  to  all  the  ordinary  motives  which  lead 
young  men  to  make  the  army  their  choice,  and  without  the 
least  desire  to  become  either  a  hero  or  a  dandy,  I  really  do 
not  know  what  determined  my  thoughts  that  way,  unless  it 
were  the  happy  state  of  half-pay  indolence  enjoyed  by  Cap- 
tain Doolittle,  who  had  set  up  his  staff  of  rest  in  my  native 
village.  Every  other  person  had,  or  seemed  to  have,  some- 
thing to  do,  less  or  more.  They  did  not  indeed  precisely  go 
to  school  and  learn  tasks,  that  last  of  evils  in  my  estimation ; 
but  it  did  not  escape  my  boyish  observation  that  they  were 
all  bothered  with  something  or  other  like  duty  or  labour — all 
but  the  happy  Captain  Doolittle.  The  minister  had  his  parish 
to  visit,  and  his  preaching  to  prepare,  though  perhaps  he  made 
more  fuss  than  he  needed  about  both.  The  laird  had  his  farm- 
ing and  improving  operations  to  superintend;  and,  besides,  he 
had  to  attend  trustee  meetings,  and  lieutenancy  meetings,  and 
head  courts,  and  meetings  of  justices,  and  what  not — was  as 
early  up  (that  I  detested)  and  as  much  in  the  open  air,  wet 
and  dry,  as  his  own  grieve.  The  shopkeeper  (the  village 
boasted  but  one  of  eminence)  stood  indeed  pretty  much  at  his 
ease  behind  his  counter,  for  his  custom  was  by  no  means  over- 
burdensome;  but  still  he  enjoyed  his  status,  as  the  bailie  calls 
it,  upon  condition  of  tumbling  all  the  wares  in  his  booth  over 
and  over,  when  any  one  chose  to  want  a  yard  of  muslin,  a 
mouse-trap,  an  ounce  of  caraways,  a  paper  of  pins,  the  Ser- 


24 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


mons  of  Mr.  Peden,  or  the  Life  of  Jack  the  Giant- Queller 
(not  Killer,  as  usually  erroneously  written  and  pronounced. 
See  my  essay  on  the  true  history  of  this  worthy,  where  real 
facts  have  in  a  peculiar  degree  been  obscured  by  fable).  In 
short,  all  in  the  village  were  under  the  necessity  of  doing 
something  which  they  would  rather  have  left  undone,  except- 
ing Captain  Doolittle,  who  walked  every  morning  in  the  open 
street,  which  formed  the  high  mall  of  our  village,  in  a  blue 
coat  with  a  red  neck,  and  played  at  whist  the  whole  evening, 
when  he  could  make  up  a  party.  This  happy  vacuity  of  all 
employment  appeared  to  me  so  delicious  that  it  became  the 
primary  hint  which,  according  to  the  system  of  Helvetius,  as 
the  minister  says,  determined  my  infant  talents  towards  the 
profession  I  was  destined  to  illustrate. 

But  who,  alas !  can  form  a  just  estimate  of  their  future  pros- 
pects in  this  deceitful  world?  I  was  not  long  engaged  in  my 
new  profession  before  I  discovered  that,  if  the  independent 
indolence  of  half -pay  was  a  paradise,  the  officer  must  pass 
through  the  purgatory  of  duty  and  service  in  order  to  gain  ad- 
mission to  it.  Captain  Doolittle  might  brush  his  blue  coat 
with  the  red  neck,  or  leave  it  unbrushed,  at  his  pleasure ;  but 
Ensign  Clutterbuck  had  no  such  option.  Captain  Doolittle 
might  go  to  bed  at  ten  o'clock,  if  he  had  a  mind;  but  the  En- 
sign must  make  the  rounds  in  his  turn.  What  was  worse,  the 
Captain  might,  repose  under  the  tester  of  his  tent-bed  until 
noon,  if  he  was  so  pleased;  but  the  Ensign,  God  help  him, 
had  to  appear  upon  parade  at  peep  of  day.  As  for  duty,  I 
made  that  as  easy  as  I  could,  had  the  sergeant  to  whisper  to 
me  the  words  of  command,  and  bustled  through  as  other  folks 
did.  Of  service',  I  saw  enough  for  an  indolent  man:  was 
buffeted  up  and  down  the  world,  and  visited  both  the  East 
and  West  Indies,  Egypt,  and  other  distant  places,  which  my 
youth  had  scarce  dreamed  of.  The  French  I  saw,  and  felt 
too:  witness  two  fingers  of  my  right  hand,  which  one  of  their 
cursed  hussars  took  off  with  his  sabre  as  neatly  as  an  hospital 
surgeon.  At  length  the  death  of  an  old  aunt,  who  left  me 
some  fifteen  hundred  pounds,  snugly  vested  in  the  three  per 
cents:  gave  me  the  long- wish  ed-f or  opportunity  of  retiring, 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY. 


25 


with  the  prospect  of  enjoying  a  clean  shirt  and  a  guinea  four 
times  a  week  at  least. 

For  the  purpose  of  commencing  my  new  way  of  life,  I 
selected  for  my  residence  the  village  of  Kennaquhair,  in  the 
south  of  Scotland,  celebrated  for  the  ruins  of  its  magnificent 
monastery,  intending  there  to  lead  my  future  life  in  the  otium 
cum  dignitate  of  half -pay  and  annuity.  I  was  not  long,  how- 
ever, in  making  the  grand  discovery  that,  in  order  to  enjoy 
leisure,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  it  should  be  preceded  by  oc- 
cupation. For  some  time  it  was  delightful  to  wake  at  day- 
break dreaming  of  the  reveille,  then  to  recollect  my  happy 
emancipation  from  the  slavery  that  doomed  me  to  start  at  a 
piece  of  clattering  parchment,  turn  on  my  other  side,  damn 
the  parade,  and  go  to  sleep  again.  But  even  this  enjoyment 
had  its  termination ;  and  time,  when  it  became  a  stock  entire- 
ly at  my  own  disposal,  began  to  hang  heavy  on  my  hand. 

I  angled  for  two  days,  during  which  time  I  lost  twenty 
hooks,  and  several  scores  of  yards  of  gut  and  line,  and  caught 
not  even  a  minnow.  Hunting  was  out  of  the  question,  for  the 
stomach  of  a  horse  by  no  means  agrees  with  the  half -pay  es- 
tablishment. When  I  shot,  the  shepherds  and  ploughmen, 
and  my  very  dog,  quizzed  me  every  time  that  I  missed,  which 
was,  generally  speaking,  every  time  I  fired.  Besides,  the 
country  gentlemen  in  this  quarter  like  their  game,  and  began 
to  talk  of  prosecutions  and  interdicts.  I  did  not  give  up  fight- 
ing the  French  to  commence  a  domestic  war  with  the  "  pleas- 
ant men  of  Teviotdale,"  as  the  song  calls  them;  so  I  e'en 
spent  three  days  (very  agreeably)  in  cleaning  my  gun,  and 
disposing  it  upon  two  hooks  over  my  chimney-piece. 

•  The  success  of  this  accidental  experiment  set  me  on  trying 
my  skill  in  the  mechanical  arts.  Accordingly,  I  took  down 
and  cleaned  my  landlady's  cuckoo-clock,  and  in  so  doing 
silenced  that  companion  of  the  spring  for  ever  and  a  day.  I 
mounted  a  turning  lathe,  and,  in  attempting  to  use  it,  I  very 
nearly  cribbed  off,  with  an  inch-and-half  former,  one  of  the 
fingers  which  the  hussar  had  left  me. 

Books  I  tried,  both  those  of  the  little  circulating  library  and 
of  the  more  rational  subscription-collection  maintained  by  this 


26 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


intellectual  people.  But  neither  the  light  reading  of  the  one 
nor  the  heavy  artillery  of  the  other  suited  my  purpose.  I 
always  fell  asleep  at  the  fourth  or  fifth  page  of  history  or  dis- 
quisition; and  it  took  me  a  month's  hard  reading  to  wade 
through  a  half -bound  trashy  novel,  during  which  I  was  pes- 
tered with  applications  to  return  the  volumes  by  every  half- 
bred  milliner's  miss  about  the  place.  In  short,  during  the 
hours  when  all  the  town  besides  had  something  to  do,  I  had 
nothing  for  it  but  to  walk  in  the  churchyard,  and  whistle  till 
it  was  dinner-time. 

During  these  promenades,  the  ruins  necessarily  forced  them- 
selves on  my  attention,  and  by  degrees  I  found  myself  engaged 
in  studying  the  more  minute  ornaments,  and  at  length  the 
general  plan,  of  this  noble  structure.  The  old  sexton  aided 
my  labours,  and  gave  me  his  portion  of  traditional  lore. 
Every  day  added  something  to  my  stock  of  knowledge  respect- 
ing the  ancient  state  of  the  building ;  and  at  length  I  made 
discoveries  concerning  the  purpose  of  several  detached  and 
very  ruinous  portions  of  it,  the  use  of  which  had  hitherto 
been  either  unknown  altogether  or  erroneously  explained. 

The  knowledge  which  I  thus  acquired  I  had  frequent  oppor- 
tunities of  retailing  to  those  visitors  whom  the  progress  of  a 
Scottish  tour  brought  to  visit  this  celebrated  spot.  Without 
encroaching  on  the  privilege  of  my  friend  the  sexton,  I  became 
gradually  an  assistant  cicerone  in  the  task  of  description  and 
explanation,  and  often  (seeing  a  fresh  party  of  visitors  arrive) 
has  he  turned  over  to  me  those  to  whom  he  had  told  half  his 
story,  with  the  flattering  observation:  "What  needs  I  say 
ony  mair  about  it?  There's  the  Captain  kens  mair  anent  it 
than  I  do,  or  any  man  in  the  town."  Then  would  I  salute 
the  strangers  courteously,  and  expatiate  to  their  astonished 
minds  upon  crypts  and  chancels,  and  naves,  arches,  Gothic 
and  Saxon  architraves,  mullions,  and  flying  buttresses.  It  not 
infrequently  happened  that  an  acquaintance  which  commenced 
in  the  abbey  concluded  in  the  inn,  which  served  to  relieve  the 
solitude  as  well  as  the  monotony  of  my  landlady's  shoulder  of 
mutton,  whether  roast,  cold,  or  hashed. 

By  degrees  my  mind  became  enlarged :  I  found  a  book  or 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY. 


27 


two  which  enlightened  me  on  the  subject  of  Gothic  architec- 
ture, and  I  read  now  with  pleasure,  because  I  was  interested 
in  what  I  read  about.  Even  my  character  began  to  dilate  and 
expand.  I  spoke  with  more  authority  at  the  club,  and  was 
listened  to  with  deference,  because  on  one  subject  at  least  I 
possessed  more  information  than  any  of  its  members.  Indeed, 
I  found  that  even  my  stories  about  Egypt,  which,  to  say  truth, 
were  somewhat  threadbare,  were  now  listened  to  with  more 
respect  than  formerly.  "  The  Captain,"  they  said,  "had 
something  in  him  after  a' :  there  were  few  folk  kenn'd  sae 
mickle  about  the  abbey." 

With  this  general  approbation  waxed  my  own  sense  of  self- 
importance,  and  my  feeling  of  general  comfort.  I  ate  with 
more  appetite,  I  digested  with  more  ease,  I  lay  down  at  night 
with  joy,  and  slept  sound  till  morning,  when  I  arose  with  a 
sense  of  busy  importance,  and  hied  me  to  measure,  to  ex- 
amine, and  to  compare  the  various  parts  of  this  interesting 
structure.  I  lost  all  sense  and  consciousness  of  certain  un- 
pleasant sensations  of  a  nondescript  nature,  about  my  head 
and  stomach,  to  which  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  attending, 
more  for  the  benefit  of  the  village  apothecary  than  my  own, 
for  the  pure  want  of  something  else  to  think  about.  I  had 
found  out  an  occupation  unwittingly,  and  was  happy  because 
I  had  something  to  do.  In  a  word,  I  had  commenced  local 
antiquary,  and  was  not  unworthy  of  the  name. 

Whilst  I  was  in  this  pleasing  career  of  busy  idleness,  for  so 
it  might  at  best  be  called,  it  happened  that  I  was  one  night 
sitting  in  my  little  parlour,  adjacent  to  the  closet  which  my 
landlady  calls  my  bedroom,  in  the  act  of  preparing  for  an 
early  retreat  to  the  realms  of  Morpheus.  Dugdale's  Monasti- 
con,  borrowed  from  the  library  at  A  ,  was  lying  on  the  ta- 
ble before  me,  flanked  by  some  excellent  Cheshire  cheese  (a 
present,  by  the  way,  from  an  honest  London  citizen,  to  whom 
I  had  explained  the  difference  betwixt  a  Gothic  and  a  Saxon 
arch),  and  a  glass  of  Vanderhagen's  best  ale.  Thus  armed  at 
all  points  against  my  old  enemy  Time,  I  was  leisurely  and 
deliciously  preparing  for  bed — now  reading  a  line  of  old  Dug- 
dale,  now  sipping  my  ale  or  munching  my  bread  and  cheese, 


28 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


now  undoing  the  strings  at  my  breeches'  knees  or  a  button  or 
two  of  my  waistcoat,  until  the  village  clock  should  strike  ten, 
before  which  time  I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  go  to  bed.  A  loud 
knocking,  however,  interrupted  my  ordinary  process  on  this 
occasion,  and  the  voice  of  my  honest  landlord  of  the  George  1 
was  heard  vociferating :  "  What  the  deevil,  Mrs.  Grimslees, 
the  Captain  is  no  in  his  bed?  and  a  gentleman  at  our  house  has 
ordered  a  fowl  and  minced  collops,  and  a  bottle  of  sherry,  and 
has  sent  to  ask  him  to  supper,  to  tell  him  all  about  the  abbey. 99 
"Na, "  answered  Luckie  Grimslees,  in  the  true  sleepy  tone 
of  a  Scottish  matron  when  ten  o'clock  is  going  to  strike,  "  he's 
no  in  his  bed,  but  I'se  warrant  him  no  gae  out  at  this  time  o' 
night  to  keep  folks  sitting  up  waiting  for  him :  the  Captain's 
a  decent  man." 

I  plainly  perceived  this  last  compliment  was  made  for  my 
hearing,  by  way  both  of  indicating  and  of  recommending  the 
course  of  conduct  which  Mrs.  Grimslees  desired  I  should 
pursue.  But  I  had  not  been  knocked  about  the  world  for 
thirty  years  and  odd,  and  lived  a  bluff  bachelor  all  the  while, 
to  come  home  and  be  put  under  petticoat  government  by  my 
landlady.  Accordingly,  I  opened  my  chamber  door,  and  de- 
sired my  old  friend  David  to  walk  upstairs. 

"  Captain, "  said  he,  as  he  entered,  "  I  am  as  glad  to  find 
you  up  as  if  I  had  hooked  a  twenty  pound  saumon.  There's 
a  gentleman  up  yonder  that  will  not  sleep  sound  in  his  bed 
this  blessed  night  unless  he  has  the  pleasure  to  drink  a  glass 
of  wine  with  you. " 

"  You  know,  David,"  I  replied,  with  becoming  dignity, 
"  that  I  cannot  with  propriety  go  out  to  visit  strangers  at  this 
time  of  night,  or  accept  of  invitations  from  people  of  whom  I 
know  nothing." 

1  The  George  was,  and  is,  the  principal  inn  in  the  village  of  Kenna- 
quhair,  or  Melrose.  But  the  landlord  of  the  period  was  not  the  same  civil 
and  quiet  person  by  whom  the  inn  is  now  kept.  David  Kyle,  a  Melrose 
proprietor  of  no  little  importance,  a  first-rate  person  of  consequence  in 
whatever  belonged  to  the  business  of  the  town,  was  the  original  owner  and 
landlord  of  the  inn.  Poor  David,  like  many  other  busy  men,  took  so  much 
care  of  public  affairs  as  in  some  degree  to  neglect  his  own.  There  are  per- 
sons still  alive  at  Kennaquhair  who  can  recognise  him  and  his  peculiarities 
in  the  following  sketch  of  mine  host  of  the  George. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  29 


David  swore  a  round  oath,  and  added :  "  Was  ever  the  like 
heard  of?  He  has  ordered  a  fowl  and  egg  sauce,  a  pancake 
and  rninched  collops,  and  a  bottle  of  sherry.  D'ye  think  I 
wad  come  and  ask  you  to  go  to  keep  company  with  ony  bit 
English  rider,  that  sups  on  toasted  cheese  and  a  cheerer  of 
rum-toddy?  This  is  a  gentleman  every  inch  of  him,  and  a 
virtuoso,  a  clean  virtuoso — a  sad-coloured  stand  of  claithes, 
and  a  wig  like  the  curled  back  of  a  mug  ewe.  The  very  first 
question  he  speered  was  about  the  auld  drawbrig  that  has 
been  at  the  bottom  of  the  water  these  twal  score  years :  I  have 
seen  the  fundations  when  we  were  sticking  saumon.  And 
how  the  deevil  suld  he  ken  ony  thing  about  the  auld  drawbrig 
unless  he  were  a  virtuoso?"  1 

David  being  a  virtuoso  in  his  own  way,  and  moreover  a  land- 
holder and  heritor,  was  a  qualified  judge  of  all  who  frequented 
his  house,  and  therefore  I  could  not  avoid  again  tying  the 
strings  of  my  knees. 

"That's  right,  Captain,"  vociferated  David:  "you  twa  will 
be  as  thick  as  three  in  a  bed  an  ance  ye  forgather.  I  haena 
seen  the  like  o'  him  my  very  sell  since  I  saw  the  great  Doctor 
Samuel  Johnson  on  his  tower  through  Scotland,  whilk  tower 
is  lying  in  my  back-parlour  for  the  amusement  of  my  guests, 
wi'  the  twa  boards  torn  aff . " 

"  Then  the  gentleman  is  a  scholar,  David?" 

"I'se  uphaud  him  a  scholar,"  answered  David:  "he  has  a 
black  coat  on,  or  a  brown  ane,  at  ony  rate." 

"Is  he  a  clergyman?" 

"  I  am  thinking  no,  for  he  looked  after  his  horse's  supper 
before  he  spoke  o'  his  ain,"  replied  mine  host. 
.  "Has  he  a  servant?"  demanded  I. 

"Nae  servant,"  answered  David;  "but  a  grand  face  he  has 
o'  his  ain,  that  wad  gar  ony  body  be  willing  to  serve  him  that 
looks  upon  him." 

"And  what  makes  him  think  of  disturbing  me?  Ah, 
David,  this  has  been  some  of  your  chattering ;  you  are  per- 
petually bringing  your  guests  on  my  shoulders,  as  if  it  were 

1  There  is  more  to  be  said  about  this  old  bridge  hereafter.  See  Note  4, 
p.  376. 


30 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


my  business  to  entertain  every  man  who  comes  to  the 
George." 

"What  the  deil  wad  ye  hae  me  do,  Captain?"  answered 
mine  host;  "  a  gentleman  lights  down,  and  asks  me  in  a  most 
earnest  manner  what  man  of  sense  and  learning  there  is  about 
our  town  that  can  tell  him  about  the  antiquities  of  the  place, 
and  specially  about  the  auld  abbey — ye  wadna  hae  me  tell  the 
gentleman  a  lee?  and  ye  ken  weel  eneugh  there  is  naebody  in 
the  town  can  say  a  reasonable  word  about  it,  be  it  no  your- 
sell,  except  the  bedral,  and  he  is  as  fou  as  a  piper  by  this 
time.  So,  says  I:  *  There's  Captain  Clutterbuck,  that's  a  very 
civil  gentleman,  and  has  little  to  do  forbye  telling  a'  the  auld 
cracks  about  the  abbey,  and  dwells  just  hard  by.'  Then  says 
the  gentleman  to  me,  'Sir,'  says  he,  very  civilly,  'have  the 
goodness  to  step  to  Captain  Clutterbuck  with  my  compliments, 
and  say  I  am  a  stranger,  who  have  been  led  to  these  parts 
chiefly  by  the  fame  of  these  ruins,  and  that  I  would  call  upon 
him,  but  the  hour  is  late.'  And  mair  he  said  that  I  have  for- 
gotten, but  I  weel  remember  it  ended:  ' And,  landlord,  get  a 
bottle  of  your  best  sherry,  and  supper  for  two. '  Ye  wadna 
have  had  me  refuse  to  do  the  gentleman's  bidding,  and  me  a 
publican?" 

"Well,  David,"  said  I,  "I  wish  your  virtuoso  had  taken  a 
fitter  hour;  but  as  you  say  he  is  a  gentleman  " 

"  I'se  uphaud  him  that :  the  order  speaks  for  itsell — a  bottle 
of  sherry,  minched  collops  and  a  fowl — that's  speaking  like  a 
gentleman,  I  trow?  That's  right,  Captain,  button  weel  up, 
the  night's  raw;  but  the  water's  clearing  for  a'  that;  we'll 
be  on't  neist  night  wi'  my  lord's  boats,  and  we'll  hae  ill  luck 
if  I  dinna  send  you  a  kipper  to  relish  your  ale  at  e'en."  1 

In  five  minutes  after  this  dialogue  I  found  myself  in  the 
parlour  of  the  George,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  stranger. 

He  was  a  grave  personage,  about  my  own  age  (which  we 
shall  call  about  fifty),  and  really  had,  as  my  friend  David 

1  The  nobleman  whose  boats  are  mentioned  in  the  text  is  the  late  kind 
and  amiable  Lord  Sommerville,  an  intimate  friend  of  the  Author.  David 
Kyle  was  a  constant  and  privileged  attendant  when  Lord  Sommerville  had 
a  party  for  spearing  salmon  ;  on  snch  occasions,  eighty  or  a  hundred  fish 
were  often  killed  between  Glemean  and  Leaderfoot. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  31 


expressed  it,  something  in  his  face  that  inclined  men  to  oblige 
and  to  serve  him.  Yet  this  expression  of  authority  was  not 
at  all  of  the  cast  which  I  have  seen  in  the  countenance  of  a 
general  of  brigade,  neither  was  the  stranger's  dress  at  all 
martial.  It  consisted  of  a  uniform  suit  of  iron-grey  clothes, 
cut  in  rather  an  old-fashioned  form.  His  legs  were  defended 
with  strong  leathern  gambadoes,  which,  according  to  an  anti- 
quarian contrivance,  opened  at  the  sides,  and  were  secured  by 
steel  clasps.  His  countenance  was  worn  as  much  by  toil  and 
sorrow  as  by  age,  for  it  intimated  that  he  had  seen  and  en- 
dured much.  His  address  was  singularly  pleasing  and  gen- 
tlemanlike, and  the  apology  which  he  made  for  disturbing  me 
at  such  an  hour,  and  in  such  a  manner,  was  so  well  and  hand- 
somely expressed  that  I  could  not  reply  otherwise  than  by 
declaring  my  willingness  to  be  of  service  to  him. 

"  I  have  been  a  traveller  to-day,  sir,"  said  he,  "  and  I  would 
willingly  defer  the  little  I  have  to  say  till  after  supper,  for 
which  I  feel  rather  more  appetised  than  usual." 

We  sate  down  to  table,  and,  notwithstanding  the  stranger's 
alleged  appetite,  as  well  as  the  gentle  preparation  of  cheese 
and  ale  which  I  had  already  laid  aboard,  I  really  believe  that 
I  of  the  two  did  the  greater  honour  to  my  friend  David's  fowl 
and  minced  collops. 

When  the  cloth  was  removed,  and  we  had  each  made  a  tum- 
bler of  negus,  of  that  liquor  which  hosts  call  sherry  and  guests 
call  Lisbon,  I  perceived  that  the  stranger  seemed  pensive,  si- 
lent, and  somewhat  embarrassed,  as  if  he  had  something  to 
communicate  which  he  knew  not  well  how  to  introduce.  To 
pave  the  way  for  him,  I  spoke  of  the  ancient  ruins  of  the 
monastery,  and  of  their  history.  But,  to  my  great  surprise, 
I  found  I  had  met  my  match  with  a  witness.  The  stranger 
not  only  knew  all  that  I  could  tell  him,  but  a  great  deal  more ; 
and,  what  was  still  more  mortifying,  he  was  able,  by  reference 
to  dates,  charters,  and  other  evidence  of  facts,  that,  as  Burns 
says,  "  downa  be  disputed,"  to  correct  many  of  the  vague  tales 
which  I  had  adopted  on  loose  and  vulgar  tradition,  as  well  as 
to  confute  more  than  one  of  my  favourite  theories  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  old  monks  and  their  dwellings,  which  I  had  sported 


32 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


freely  in  all  the  presumption  of  superior  information.  And 
here  I  cannot  but  remark  that  much  of  the  stranger's  argu- 
ments and  inductions  rested  upon  the  authority  of  Mr.  Deputy 
Register  of  Scotland 1  and  his  lucubrations ;  a  gentleman  whose 
indefatigable  research  into  the  national  records  is  like  to  de- 
stroy my  trade,  and  that  of  all  local  antiquaries,  by  substituting 
truth  instead  of  legend  and  romance.  Alas,  I  would  the  learn- 
ed gentleman  did  but  know  how  difficult  it  is  for  us  dealers  in 
petty  wares  of  antiquity  to 

Pluck  from  our  memories  a  rooted  "  legend," 
Raze  out  the  written  records  of  our  brain, 
Or  cleanse  our  bosoms  of  that  perilous  stuff— 

and  so  forth.  It  would,  I  am  sure,  movehis  pity  to  think  how 
many  old  dogs  he  hath  set  to  learn  new  tricks,  how  many  ven- 
erable parrots  he  hath  taught  to  sing  a  new  song,  how  many 
grey  heads  he  hath  addled  by  vain  attempts  to  exchange  their 
old  mumpsimus  for  his  new  sumpsimus.  But  let  it  pass.  Hu- 
mana perpessi  sumus.  All  changes  round  us,  past,  present,  and 
to  come:  that  which  was  history  yesterday  becomes  fable  to- 
day, and  the  truth  of  to-day  is  hatched  into  a  lie  by  to-morrow. 

Finding  myself  like  to  be  overpowered  in  the  monastery, 
which  I  had  hitherto  regarded  as  my  citadel,  I  began,  like  a 
skilful  general,  to  evacuate  that  place  of  defence,  and  tight  my 
way  through  the  adjacent  country.  I  had  recourse  to  my  ac- 
quaintance with  the  families  and  antiquities  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, ground  on  which  I  thought  I  might  skirmish  at  large 
without  its  being  possible  for  the  stranger  to  meet  me  with 
advantage.    But  I  was  mistaken. 

The  man  in  the  iron-grey  suit  showed  a  much  more  minute 
knowledge  of  these  particulars  than  I  had  the  least  pretension 
to.  He  could  tell  the  very  year  in  which  the  family  of  De 
Haga  first  settled  on  their  ancient  barony.2    Not  a  thane 

1  Thomas  Thomson,  Esq.,  whose  well-deserved  panegyric  ought  to  be 
found  on  another  page  than  one  written  by  an  intimate  friend  of  thirty 
years'  standing. 

2  The  family  of  De  Haga,  modernised  into  Haig,  of  Bemerside,  is  of  the 
highest  antiquity,  and  is  the  subject  of  one  of  the  prophecies  of  Thomas 
the  Rhymer  • 

Betide,  betide,  whate'er  betide, 
Haig  shall  be  Haig  of  Bemerside. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  33 


within  reach  but  he  knew  his  family  and  connexions — how 
many  of  his  ancestors  had  fallen  by  the  sword  of  the  English, 
how  many  in  domestic  brawl,  and  how  many  by  the  hand  of 
the  executioner  for  march-treason.  Their  castles  he  was  ac- 
quainted with  from  turret  to  foundation-stone ;  and  as  for  the 
miscellaneous  antiquities  scattered  about  the  country,  he  knew 
every  one  of  them,  from  a  cromlech  to  a  cairn,  and  could  give 
as  good  an  account  of  each  as  if  he  had  lived  in  the  time  of 
the  Danes  or  Druids. 

I  was  now  in  the  mortifying  predicament  of  one  who  sud- 
denly finds  himself  a  scholar  when  he  came  to  teach,  and  noth- 
ing was  left  for  me  but  to  pick  up  as  much  of  his  conversation 
as  I  could,  for  the  benefit  of  the  next  company.  I  told,  in- 
deed, Allan  Ramsay's  story  of  the  Monk  and  Miller's  Wife, 
in  order  to  retreat  with  some  honour  under  cover  of  a  part- 
ing volley.  Here,  however,  my  flank  was  again  turned  by  the 
eternal  stranger. 

"  You  are  pleased  to  be  facetious,  sir, "  said  he ;  "  but  you 
cannot  be  ignorant  that  the  ludicrous  incident  you  mentioned 
is  the  subject  of  a  tale  much  older  than  that  of  Allan  Ramsay." 

I  nodded,  unwilling  to  acknowledge  my  ignorance,  though, 
in  fact,  I  knew  no  more  what  he  meant  than  did  one  of  my 
friend  David's  post-horses. 

"I  do  not  allude,"  continued  my  omniscient  companion, 
"  to  the  curious  poem  published  by  Pinkerton  from  the  Maitland 
Manuscript,  called  the  Fryars  of  Berwick,  although  it  presents 
a  very  minute  and  amusing  picture  of  Scottish  manners  during 
the  reign  of  James  V. ;  but  rather  to  the  Italian  novelist,  by 
whom,  so  far  as  I  know,  the  story  was  first  printed,  although 
unquestionably  he  first  took  his  original  from  some  ancient 
fabliau. "  1 

"  It  is  not  to  be  doubted, "  answered  I,  not  very  well  under- 
standing, however,  the  proposition  to  which  I  gave  such  un- 
qualified assent. 

"  Yet, "  continued  my  companion,  "  I  question  much,  had 

1  It  is  curious  to  remark  at  how  little  expense  of  invention  successive 
ages  are  content  to  receive  amusement.  The  same  story  which  Ramsay 
and  Dunbar  have  successively  handled  forms  also  the  subject  of  the  mod- 
ern farce  No  Song,  no  Supper. 

3 


34 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


you  known  my  situation  and  profession,  whether  you  would 
have  pitched  upon  this  precise  anecdote  for  my  amusement. " 

This  observation  he  made  in  a  tone  of  perfect  good-humour. 
I  pricked  up  my  ears  at  the  hint,  and  answered  as  politely  as 
I  could  that  my  ignorance  of  his  condition  and  rank  could  be 
the  only  cause  of  my  having  stumbled  on  anything  disagree- 
able ;  and  that  I  was  most  willing  to  apologise  for  my  unin- 
tentional offence  so  soon  as  I  should  know  wherein  it  con- 
sisted. 

"Nay,  no  offence,  sir,"  he  replied;  " offence  can  only  exist 
where  it  is  taken.  I  have  been  too  long  accustomed  to  more 
severe  and  cruel  misconstructions  to  be  offended  at  a  popular 
jest,  though  directed  at  my  profession." 

"Am  I  to  understand,  then,"  I  answered,  "that  I  am 
speaking  with  a  Catholic  clergyman?" 

"  An  unworthy  monk  of  the  order  of  St.  Benedict,"  said  the 
stranger,  "  belonging  to  a  community  of  your  own  countrymen, 
long  established  in  France,  and  scattered  unhappily  by  the 
events  of  the  Revolution." 

"Then,"  said  I,  "you  are  a  native  Scotchman,  and  from 
this  neighbourhood?" 

"  Not  so, "  answered  the  monk ;  "  I  am  a  Scotchman  by  ex- 
traction only,  and  never  was  in  this  neighbourhood  during  my 
whole  life." 

"Never  in  this  neighbourhood,  and  yet  so  minutely  ac- 
quainted with  its  history,  its  traditions,  and  even  its  external 
scenery !    You  surprise  me,  sir, "  I  replied. 

"  It  is  not  surprising, "  he  said,  "  that  I  should  have  that 
sort  of  local  information,  when  it  is  considered  that  my  uncle, 
an  excellent  man,  as  well  as  a  good  Scotchman,  the  head  also 
of  our  religious  community,  employed  much  of  his  leisure  in 
making  me  acquainted  with  these  particulars ;  and  that  I  my- 
self, disgusted  with  what  has  been  passing  around  me,  have 
for  many  years  amused  myself  by  digesting  and  arranging  the 
various  scraps  of  information  which  I  derived  from  my  worthy 
relative  and  other  aged  brethren  of  our  order." 

"I  presume,  sir,"  said  I,  "though  I  would  by  no  means  in- 
trude the  question,  that  you  are  now  returned  to  Scotland  with 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY. 


35 


a  view  to  settle  amongst  your  countrymen,  since  the  great 
political  catastrophe  of  our  time  has  reduced  your  corps?" 

"No,  sir,"  replied  the  Benedictine,  "such  is  not  my  inten- 
tion. A  European  potentate,  who  still  cherishes  the  Catholic 
faith,  has  offered  us  a  retreat  within  his  dominions,  where 
a  few  of  my  scattered  brethren  are  already  assembled,  to  pray 
to  God  for  blessings  on  their  protector  and  pardon  to  their 
enemies.  No  one,  I  believe,  will  be  able  to  object  to  us  under 
our  new  establishment,  that  the  extent  of  our  revenues  will 
be  inconsistent  with  our  vows  of  poverty  and  abstinence ;  but 
let  us  strive  to  be  thankful  to  God  that  the  snare  of  temporal 
abundance  is  removed  from  us." 

"  Many  of  your  convents  abroad,  sir, "  said  I,  "  enjoyed  very 
handsome  incomes ;  and  yet,  allowing  for  times,  I  question  if 
any  were  better  provided  for  than  the  monastery  of  this  vil- 
lage. It  is  said  to  have  possessed  nearly  two  thousand  pounds 
in  yearly  money-rent,  fourteen  chalders  and  nine  bolls  of  wheat, 
fifty-six  chalders  five  bolls  barley,  forty-four  chalders  and  ten 
bolls  oats,  capons  and  poultry,  butter,  salt,  carriage  and  ar- 
riage,  peats  and  kain,  wool  and  ale." 

"  Even  too  much  of  all  these  temporal  goods,  sir, "  said  my 
companion,  "  which,  though  well  intended  by  the  pious  donors, 
served  only  to  make  the  establishment  the  envy  and  the  prey 
of  those  by  whom  it  was  finally  devoured. " 

"  In  the  mean  while,  however, "  I  observed,  "  the  monks  had 
an  easy  life  of  it,  and,  as  the  old  song  goes : 

Made  gude  kale 
On  Fridays  when  they  fasted.' ? 

"I  understand  you,  sir,"  said  the  Benedictine.  "  'It  is 
difficult, ?  saith  the  proverb,  '  to  carry  a  full  cup  without  spill- 
ing. '  Unquestionably  the  wealth  of  the  community,  as  it 
endangered  the  safety  of  the  establishment  by  exciting  the 
cupidity  of  others,  was  also  in  frequent  instances  a  snare  to 
the  brethren  themselves.  And  yet  we  have  seen  the  revenues 
of  convents  expended,  not  only  in  acts  of  beneficence  and  hospi- 
tality to  individuals,  but  in  works  of  general  and  permanent 
advantage  to  the  world  at  large.  The  noble  folio  collection  of 
French  historians  commenced  in  1737,  under  the  inspection 


36 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  at  the  expense  of  the  community  of  St.  Maur,  will  long 
show  that  the  revenues  of  the  Benedictines  were  not  always 
spent  in  self-indulgence,  and  that  the  members  of  that  order 
did  not  uniformly  slumber  in  sloth  and  indolence,  when  they 
had  discharged  the  formal  duties  of  their  rule." 

As  I  knew  nothing  earthly  at  the  time  about  the  community 
of  St.  Maur  and  their  learned  labours,  I  could  only  return  a 
mumbling  assent  to  this  proposition.  I  have  since  seen  this 
noble  work  in  the  library  of  a  distinguished  family,  and  I 
must  own  I  am  ashamed  to  reflect  that  in  so  wealthy  a  country 
as  ours  a  similar  digest  of  our  historians  should  not  be  under- 
taken, under  the  patronage  of  the  noble  and  the  learned,  in 
rivalry  of  that  which  the  Benedictines  of  Paris  executed  at  the 
expense  of  their  own  conventual  funds. 

"  I  perceive, 99  said  the  ex-Benedictine,  smiling,  "  that  your 
heretical  prejudices  are  too  strong  to  allow  us  poor  brethren 
any  merit,  whether  literary  or  spiritual." 

"  Far  from  it,  sir, "  said  I ;  "  I  assure  you  I  have  been  much 
obliged  to  monks  in  my  time.  When  I  was  quartered  in  a 
monastery  in  Flanders,  in  the  campaign  of  1793,  I  never  lived 
more  comfortably  in  my  life.  They  were  jolly  fellows  the 
Flemish  canons,  and  right  sorry  was  I  to  leave  my  good  quar- 
ters, and  to  know  that  my  honest  hosts  were  to  be  at  the  mercy 
of  the  sansculottes.    But  fortune  de  la  guerre  l" 

The  poor  Benedictine  looked  down  and  was  silent.  I  had 
unwittingly  awakened  a  train  of  bitter  reflections,  or  rather  I 
had  touched  somewhat  rudely  upon  a  chord  which  seldom 
ceased  to  vibrate  of  itself.  But  he  was  too  much  accustomed 
to  this  sorrowful  train  of  ideas  to  suffer  it  to  overcome  him. 
On  my  part,  I  hastened  to  atone  for  my  blunder.  "  If  there 
was  any  object  of  his  journey  to  this  country  in  which  I  could, 
with  propriety,  assist  him,  I  begged  to  offer  him  my  best  ser- 
vices." I  own  I  laid  some  little  emphasis  on  the  words  "  with 
propriety, 99  as  I  felt  it  would  ill  become  me,  a  sound  Protes- 
tant, and  a  servant  of  government  so  far  as  my  half -pay  was 
concerned,  to  implicate  myself  in  any  recruiting  which  my 
companion  might  have  undertaken  in  behalf  of  foreign  semi- 
naries, or  in  any  similar  design  for  the  advancement  of  Po- 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  37 


pery,  which,  whether  the  Pope  be  actually  the  old  lady  of 
Babylon  or  no,  it  did  not  become  me  in  any  manner  to  ad- 
vance or  countenance. 

My  new  friend  hastened  to  relieve  my  indecision.  "  I  was 
about  to  request  your  assistance,  sir,"  he  said,  "in  a  matter 
which  cannot  but  interest  you  as  an  antiquary  and  a  person 
of  research.  But  I  assure  you  it  relates  entirely  to  events 
and  persons  removed  to  the  distance  of  two  centuries  and  a 
half.  I  have  experienced  too  much  evil  from  the  violent  un- 
settlement  of  the  country  in  which  I  was  born  to  be  a  rash 
labourer  in  the  work  of  innovation  in  that  of  my  ancestors." 

I  again  assured  him  of  my  willingness  to  assist  him  in  any- 
thing that  was  not  contrary  to  my  allegiance  or  religion. 

"My  proposal,"  he  replied,  "affects  neither.  May  God 
bless  the  reigning  family  in  Britain!  They  are  not,  indeed, 
of  that  dynasty  to  restore  which  my  ancestors  struggled  and 
suffered  in  vain ;  but  the  Providence  who  has  conducted  his 
present  Majesty  to  the  throne  has  given  him  the  virtues  neces- 
sary to  his  time — firmness  and  intrepidity,  a  true  love  of  his 
country,  and  an  enlightened  view  of  the  dangers  by  which  she 
is  surrounded.  For  the  religion  of  these  realms,  I  am  con- 
tented to  hope  that  the  great  Power,  whose  mysterious  dis- 
pensation has  rent  them  from  the  bosom  of  the  church,  will, 
in  His  own  good  time  and  manner,  restore  them  to  its  holy 
pale.  The  efforts  of  an  individual  obscure  and  humble  as 
myself  might  well  retard,  but  could  never  advance,  a  work  so 
mighty. " 

"  May  I  then  inquire,  sir,"  said  I,  "  with  what  purpose  you 
seek  this  country?" 

Ere  my  companion  replied,  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  clasped 
paper  book,  about  the  size  of  a  regimental  orderly- book,  full, 
as  it  seemed,  of  memoranda;  and  drawing  one  of  the  candles 
close  to  him  (for  David,  as  a  strong  proof  of  his  respect  for 
the  stranger,  had  indulged  us  with  two)  he  seemed  to  peruse 
the  contents  very  earnestty. 

"  There  is  among  the  ruins  of  the  western  end  of  the  abbey 
church,"  said  he,  looking  up  to  me,  yet  keeping  the  memo- 
randum-book half  open,  and  occasionally  glancing  at  it,  as  if 


38 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


to  refresh  his  memory,  "  a  sort  of  recess  or  chapel  beneath  a 
broken  arch,  and  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  one  of  those 
shattered  Gothic  columns  which  once  supported  the  magnifi- 
cent roof,  whose  fall  has  now  encumbered  that  part  of  the 
building  with  its  ruins." 

"  I  think, "  said  I,  "  that  I  know  whereabouts  you  are.  Is 
there  not  in  the  side  wall  of  the  chapel  or  recess  which  you 
mention  a  large  carved  stone,  bearing  a  coat  of  arms,  which 
no  one  hitherto  has  been  able  to  decipher?" 

"  You  are  right, "  answered  the  Benedictine ;  and  again  con- 
sulting his  memoranda,  he  added :  "  The  arms  on  the  dexter  side 
are  those  of  Glendinning,  being  a  cross  parted  by  a  cross  in- 
dented and  countercharged  of  the  same ;  and  on  the  sinister 
three  spur-rowels  for  those  of  Avenel ;  they  are  two  ancient 
families,  now  almost  extinct  in  this  country — the  arms  party 
per  pale. " 

"  I  think, "  said  I,  "  there  is  no  part  of  this  ancient  struc- 
ture with  which  you  are  not  as  well  acquainted  as  was  the  ma- 
son who  built  it.  But  if  your  information  be  correct,  he  who 
made  out  these  bearings  must  have  had  better  eyes  than  mine." 

"  His  eyes, "  said  the  Benedictine,  "  have  long  been  closed 
in  death ;  probably  when  he  inspected  the  monument  it  was 
in  a  more  perfect  state,  or  he  may  have  derived  his  informa- 
tion from  the  tradition  of  the  place." 

"I  assure  you,"  said  I,  "that  no  such  tradition  now  exists. 
I  have  made  several  reconnoissances  among  the  old  people,  in 
hopes  to  learn  something  of  the  armorial  bearings,  but  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  circumstance.  It  seems  odd  that  you  should 
have  acquired  it  in  a  foreign  land." 

"  These  trifling  particulars, "  he  replied,  "  were  formerly 
looked  upon  as  more  important,  and  they  were  sanctified  to 
the  exiles  who  retained  recollection  of  them  because  they  re- 
lated to  a  place  dear  indeed  to  memory,  but  which  their  eyes 
could  never  again  behold.  It  is  possible,  in  like  manner,  that 
on  the  Potomac  or  Susquehannah  you  may  find  traditions  cur- 
rent concerning  places  in  England  which  are  utterly  forgotten 
in  the  neighbourhood  where  they  originated.  But  to  my  pur- 
pose.   In  this  recess,  marked  by  the  armorial  bearings,  lies 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  39 


buried  a  treasure,  and  it  is  in  order  to  remove  it  that  I  have 
undertaken  my  present  journey." 

"A  treasure!"  echoed  I,  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes, "  replied  the  monk,  "  an  inestimable  treasure,  for 
those  who  know  how  to  use  it  rightly." 

I  own  my  ears  did  tingle  a  little  at  the  word  treasure,  and 
that  a  handsome  tilbury,  with  a  neat  groom  in  blue  and  scarlet 
livery,  having  a  smart  cockade  on  his  glazed  hat,  seemed  as  it 
were  to  glide  across  the  room  before  my  eyes,  while  a  voice, 
as  of  a  crier,  pronounced  in  my  ear:  "Captain  Clutterbuek's 
tilbury — drive  up."  But  I  resisted  the  devil,  and  he  fled 
from  me. 

"  I  believe, "  said  I,  "  all  hidden  treasure  belongs  either  to 
the  king  or  the  lord  of  the  soil;  and  as  I  have  served  his 
Majesty,  I  cannot  concern  myself  in  any  adventure  which  may 
have  an  end  in  the  Court  of  Exchequer." 

"  The  treasure  I  seek, "  said  the  stranger,  smiling,  "  will  not 
be  envied  by  princes  or  nobles :  it  is  simply  the  heart  of  an 
upright  man." 

"  Ah!  I  understand  you,"  I  answered;  "some  relic,  forgot- 
ten in  the  confusion  of  the  Reformation.  I  know  the  value 
which  men  of  your  persuasion  put  upon  the  bodies  and  limbs 
of  saints.    I  have  seen  the  Three  Kings  of  Cologne." 

"  The  relics  which  I  seek,  however, "  said  the  Benedictine, 
"  are  not  precisely  of  that  nature.  The  excellent  relative 
whom  I  have  already  mentioned  amused  his  leisure  hours  with 
putting  into  form  the  traditions  of  his  family,  particularly 
some  remarkable  circumstances  which  took  place  about  the 
first  breaking  out  of  the  schism  of  the  church  in  Scotland. 
He  became  so  much  interested  in  his  own  labours  that  at 
length  he  resolved  that  the  heart  of  one  individual,  the  hero 
of  his  tale,  should  rest  no  longer  in  a  land  of  heresy,  now  de- 
serted by  all  his  kindred.  As  he  knew  where  it  was  de- 
posited, he  formed  the  resolution  to  visit  his  native  country 
for  the  purpose  of  recovering  this  valued  relic.  But  age,  and 
at  length  disease,  interfered  with  his  resolution,  and  it  was 
on  his  death- bed  that  he  charged  me  to  undertake  the  task  in 
his  stead.    The  various  important  events  which  have  crowded 


40 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


upon  each  other,  our  ruin  and  our  exile,  have  for  many  years 
obliged  me  to  postpone  this  delegated  duty.  Why,  indeed, 
transfer  the  relics  of  a  holy  and  worthy  man  to  a  country 
where  religion  and  virtue  are  become  the  mockery  of  the 
scorn er?  I  have  now  a  home,  which  I  trust  may  be  perma- 
nent, if  anything  in  this  earth  can  be  termed  so.  Thither 
will  I  transport  the  heart  of  the  good  father,  and  beside  the 
shrine  which  it  shall  occupy  I  will  construct  my  own  grave." 

"He  must,  indeed,  have  been  an  excellent  man,"  replied  I, 
"  whose  memory,  at  so  distant  a  period,  calls  forth  such  strong 
marks  of  regard." 

"He  was,  as  you  justly  term  him,"  said  the  ecclesiastic, 
"  indeed  excellent — excellent  in  his  life  and  doctrine,  excellent, 
above  all,  in  his  self-denied  and  disinterested  sacrifice  of  all 
that  life  holds  dear  to  principle  and  to  friendship.  But  you 
shall  read  his  history.  I  shall  be  happy  at  once  to  gratify 
your  curiosity  and  to  show  my  sense  of  your  kindness,  if  you 
will  have  the  goodness  to  procure  me  the  means  of  accom- 
plishing my  object." 

I  replied  to  the  Benedictine  that,  as  the  rubbish  amongst 
which  he  proposed  to  search  was  no  part  of  the  ordinary  bur- 
ial-ground, and  as  I  was  on  the  best  terms  with  the  sexton,  I 
had  little  doubt  that  I  could  procure  him  the  means  of  exe- 
cuting his  pious  purpose. 

With  this  promise  we  parted  for  the  night ;  and  on  the  en- 
suing morning  I  made  it  my  business  to  see  the  sexton,  who, 
for  a  small  gratuity,  readily  granted  permission  of  search,  on 
condition,  however,  that  he  should  be  present  himself,  to  see 
that  the  stranger  removed  nothing  of  intrinsic  value. 

"  To  banes,  and  skulls,  and  hearts,  if  he  can  find  ony,  he 
shall  be  welcome, "  said  this  guardian  of  the  ruined  monastery, 
"there's  plenty  a'  about,  an  he's  curious  of  them;  but  if  there 
be  ony  picts  (meaning  perhaps  pyx),  or  chalishes,  or  the  like 
of  such  Popish  veshells  of  gold  and  silver,  deil  hae  me  an  I 
conneeve  at  their  being  removed. " 

The  sexton  also  stipulated  that  our  researches  should  take 
place  at  night,  being  unwilling  to  excite  observation  or  give 
rise  to  scandal. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  41 

My  new  acquaintance  and  I  spent  the  day  as  became  lovers 
of  hoar  antiquity.  We  visited  every  corner  of  these  magnifi- 
cent ruins  again  and  again  during  the  forenoon ;  and,  having 
made  a  comfortable  dinner  at  David's,  we  walked  in  the  after- 
noon to  such  places  in  the  neighbourhood  as  ancient  tradition 
or  modern  conjecture  had  rendered  markworthy.  Night  found 
us  in  the  interior  of  the  ruins,  attended  by  the  sexton,  who 
carried  a  dark  lantern,  and  stumbling  alternately  over  the 
graves  of  the  dead  and  the  fragments  of  that  architecture 
"  which  they  doubtless  trusted  would  have  canopied  their 
bones  till  doomsday." 

I  am  by  no  means  particularly  superstitious,  and  yet  there 
was  that  in  the  present  service  which  I  did  not  very  much 
like.  There  was  something  awful  in  the  resolution  of  disturb- 
ing, at  such  an  hour,  and  in  such  a  place,  the  still  and  mute 
sanctity  of  the  grave.  My  companions  were  free  from  this 
impression — the  stranger  from  his  energetic  desire  to  execute 
the  purpose  for  which  he  came,  and  the  sexton  from  habitual 
indifference.  We  soon  stood  in  the  aisle  which,  by  the  ac- 
count of  the  Benedictine,  contained  the  bones  of  the  family  of 
Glendinning,  and  were  busily  employed  in  removing  the  rub- 
bish from  a  corner  which  the  stranger  pointed  out.  If  a  half- 
pay  Captain  could  have  represented  an  ancient  Border  knight, 
or  an  ex-Benedictine  of  the  nineteenth  century  a  wizard  monk 
of  the  sixteenth,  we  might  have  aptly  enough  personified  the 
search  after  Michael  Scott's  lamp  and  book  of  magic  power. 
But  the  sexton  would  have  been  de  trop  in  the  group. 1 

Ere  the  stranger,  assisted  by  the  sexton  in  his  task,  had 
been  long  at  work,  they  came  to  some  hewn  stones,  which 
seemed  to  have  made  part  of  a  small  shrine,  though  now  dis- 
placed and  destroyed. 

1  This  is  one  of  those  passages  which  must  now  read  awkwardly,  since 
every  one  knows  that  the  Novelist  and  the  Author  of  the  Lay  of  the  Last 
Minstrel  is  the  same  person.  But  before  the  avowal  was  made,  the  Author 
was  forced  into  this  and  similar  offences  against  good  taste  to  meet  an  ar- 
gument, often  repeated,  that  there  was  something  very  mysterious  in  the 
Author  of  Waverley's  reserve  concerning  Sir  Walter  Scott,  an  author  suffi- 
ciently voluminous  at  least.  I  had  a  great  mind  to  remove  the  passages 
from  this  edition,  but  the  more  candid  way  is  to  explain  how  they  came 
there. 


42 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Let  us  remove  these  with  caution,  my  friend, 99  said  the 
stranger,  "lest  we  injure  that  which  I  come  to  seek." 

"  They  are  prime  stanes, 99  said  the  sexton,  "  picked  free 
every  ane  of  them :  warse  than  the  best  wad  never  serve  the 
monks,  Fse  warrant." 

A  minute  after  he  had  made  this  observation,  he  exclaimed : 
"  I  hae  fund  something  now  that  stands  again'  the  spade,  as 
if  it  were  neither  earth  nor  stane." 

The  stranger  stooped  eagerly  to  assist  him. 

"Na,  na,  haill  o'  my  ain,"  said  the  sexton:  "nae  halves  or 
quarters" ;  and  he  lifted  from  amongst  the  ruins  a  small  lead- 
en box. 

"  You  will  be  disappointed,  my  friend, 99  said  the  Benedic- 
tine, "  if  you  expect  anything  there  but  the  mouldering  dust 
of  a  human  heart,  closed  in  an  inner  case  of  porphyry. " 

I  interposed  as  a  neutral  party,  and  taking  the  box  from 
the  sexton,  reminded  him  that,  if  there  were  treasure  con- 
cealed in  it,  still  it  could  not  become  the  property  of  the  finder. 
I  then  proposed  that,  as  the  place  was  too  dark  to  examine  the 
contents  of  the  leaden  casket,  we  should  adjourn  to  David's, 
where  we  might  have  the  advantage  of  light  and  fire  while  car- 
rying on  our  investigation.  The  stranger  requested  us  to  go 
before,  assuring  us  that  he  would  follow  in  a  few  minutes. 

I  fancy  that  Old  Mattocks  suspected  these  few  minutes 
might  be  employed  in  effecting  further  discoveries  amongst 
the  tombs,  for  he  glided  back  through  a  side- aisle  to  watch 
the  Benedictine's  motions,  but  presently  returned,  and  told 
me  in  a  whisper,  that  "  The  gentleman  was  on  his  knees 
amang  the  cauld  stanes,  praying  like  ony  saunt." 

I  stole  back,  and  beheld  the  old  man  actually  employed  as 
Mattocks  had  informed  me.  The  language  seemed  to  be 
Latin;  and  as  the  whispered  yet  solemn  accent  glided  away 
through  the  ruined  aisles,  I  could  not  help  reflecting  how  long 
it  was  since  they  had  heard  the  forms  of  that  religion,  for  the 
exercise  of  which  they  had  been  reared  at  such  cost  of  time, 
taste,  labour,  and  expense.  "Come  away — come  away,"  said 
I ;  "  let  us  leave  him  to  himself,  Mattocks ;  this  is  no  business 
of  ours." 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY. 


43 


"My  certes,  no,  Captain/'  said  Mattocks;  " nevertheless,  it 
winna  be  amiss  to  keep  an  ee  on  him.  My  father,  rest  his 
saul,  was  a  horse-couper,  and  used  to  say  he  never  was 
cheated  in  a  naig  in  his  life  saving  by  a  west-country  Whig 
frae  Kilmarnock  that  said  a  grace  ower  a  dram  o'  whisky. 
But  this  gentleman  will  be  a  Roman,  X'se  warrant?" 

"  You  are  perfectly  right  in  that,  Saunders,"  said  I. 

"  Ay,  I  have  seen  twa  or  three  of  their  priests  that  were 
chased  ower  here  some  score  o'  years  syne.  They  just  danced 
like  mad  when  they  looked  on  the  friars'  heads  and  the  nuns' 
heads  in  the  cloister  yonder :  they  took  to  them  like  auld  ac- 
quaintance like.  Od,  he  is  not  stirring  yet,  mair  than  he 
were  a  through-stane !  I  never  kenn'd  a  Roman,  to  say 
kenn'd  him,  but  ane — mair  by  token,  he  was  the  only  ane  in 
the  town  to  ken — and  that  was  auld  Jock  of  the  Pend.  It 
wad  hae  been  lang  ere  ye  fand  Jock  praying  in  the  abbey  in 
a  thick  night,  wi'  his  knees  on  a  cauld  stane.  Jock  likit  a 
kirk  wi'  a  chimley  in't.  Mony  a  merry  ploy  I  hae  had  wi' 
him  down  at  the  inn  yonder;  and  when  he  died,  decently  I 
wad  hae  earded  him ;  but,  or  I  gat  his  grave  weel  howkit,  some 
of  the  quality,  that  were  o'  his  ain  unhappy  persuasion,  had 
the  corpse  whirried  away  up  the  water,  and  buried  him  after 
their  ain  pleasure,  doubtless — they  kenn'd  best.  I  wad  hae 
made  nae  great  charge.  I  wadna  hae  excised  Johnnie,  dead 
or  alive.    Stay,  see — the  strange  gentleman  is  coming." 

"  Hold  the  lantern  to  assist  him,  Mattocks,"  said  I.  "  This 
is  rough  walking,  sir." 

"  Yes, "  replied  the  Benedictine ;  "  I  may  say  with  a  poet 
who  is  doubtless  familiar  to  you  " 

"  I  should  be  surprised  if  he  were, "  thought  I  internally. 

The  stranger  continued: 

44  Saint  Francis  be  my  speed  !  how  oft  to-night 
Have  my  old  feet  stumbled  at  graves ! ' ' 

"  We  are  now  clear  of  the  churchyard, "  said  I,  "  and  have 
but  a  short  walk  to  David's,  where  I  hope  we  shall  find  a 
cheerful  fire  to  enliven  us  after  our  night's  work." 

We  entered,  accordingly,  the  little  parlour,  into  which  Mat- 


44 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


tocks  was  also  about  to  push  himself  with  sufficient  effrontery, 
when  David,  with  a  most  astounding  oath,  expelled  him  by 
head  and  shoulders,  d — ning  his  curiosity,  that  would  not  let 
gentlemen  be  private  in  their  own  inn.  Apparently  mine 
host  considered  his  own  presence  as  no  intrusion,  for  he 
crowded  up  to  the  table  on  which  I  had  laid  down  the  leaden 
box.  It  was  frail  and  wasted,  as  might  be  guessed,  from 
having  lain  so  many  years  in  the  ground.  On  opening  it, 
we  found  deposited  within  a  case  made  of  porphyry,  as  the 
stranger  had  announced  to  us. 

"I  fancy,"  he  said,  "gentlemen,  your  curiosity  will  not  be 
satisfied — perhaps  I  should  say  that  your  suspicions  will  not 
be  removed — unless  I  -undo  this  casket;  yet  it  only  contains 
the  mouldering  remains  of  a  heart,  once  the  seat  of  the  noblest 
thoughts." 

He  undid  the  box  with  great  caution ;  but  the  shrivelled  sub- 
stance which  it  contained  bore  now  no  resemblance  to  what  it 
might  once  have  been,  the  means  used  having  been  apparently 
unequal  to  preserve  its  shape  and  colour,  although  they  were 
adequate  to  prevent  its  total  decay.  We  were  quite  satisfied, 
notwithstanding,  that  it  was  what  the  stranger  asserted,  the 
remains  of  a  human  heart ;  and  David  readily  promised  his 
influence  in  the  village,  which  was  almost  co-ordinate  with 
that  of  the  bailie  himself,  to  silence  all  idle  rumours.  He 
was,  moreover,  pleased  to  favour  us  with  his  company  to  sup- 
per; and  having  taken  the  lifrn's  share  of  two  bottles  of  sherry, 
he  not  only  sanctioned  with  his  plenary  authority  the  stranger's 
removal  of  the  heart,  but,  I  believe,  would  have  authorised  the 
removal  of  the  abbey  itself,  were  it  not  that  it  happens  con- 
siderably to  advantage  the  worthy  publican's  own  custom. 

The  object  of  the  Benedictine's  visit  to  the  land  of  his  fore- 
fathers being  now  accomplished,  he  announced  his  intention 
of  leaving  us  early  in  the  ensuing  day,  but  requested  my  com- 
pany to  breakfast  with  him  before  his  departure.  I  came  ac- 
cordingly, and  when  we  had  finished  our  morning's  meal,  the 
priest  took  me  apart,  and,  pulling  from  his  pocket  a  large 
bundle  of  papers,  he  put  them  into  my  hands.  "  These,"  said 
he,  "Captain  Clutterbuck,  are  genuine  memoirs  of  the  six- 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY. 


45 


teenth  century,  and  exhibit  in  a  singular,  and,  as  I  think,  an 
interesting,  point  of  view  the  manners  of  that  period.  I  am 
induced  to  believe  that  their  publication  will  not  be  an  unac- 
ceptable present  to  the  British  public ;  and  I  willingly  make 
over  to  you  any  profit  that  may  accrue  from  such  a  transaction." 

1  stared  a  little  at  this  annunciation,  and  observed,  that  the 
hand  seemed  too  modern  for  the  date  he  assigned  to  the  manu- 
script. 

"Do  not  mistake  me,  sir,"  said  the  Benedictine;  "I  did 
not  mean  to  say  the  memoirs  were  written  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  but  only  that  they  were  compiled  from  authentic  ma- 
terials of  that  period,  but  written  in  the  taste  and  language 
of  the  present  day.  My  uncle  commenced  this  book ;  and  I, 
partly  to  improve  my  habit  of  English  composition,  partly 
to  divert  melancholy  thoughts,  amused  my  leisure  hours  with 
continuing  and  concluding  it.  You  will  see  the  period  of  the 
story  where  my  uncle  leaves  off  his  narrative  and  I  commence 
mine.  In  fact,  they  relate  in  a  great  measure  to  different  per- 
sons, as  well  as  to  a  different  period." 

Retaining  the  papers  in  my  hand,  I  proceeded  to  state  to 
him  my  doubts  whether,  as  a  good  Protestant,  I  could  under- 
take or  superintend  a  publication  written  probably  in  the  spirit 
of  Popery. 

"  You  will  find, "  he  said,  "  no  matter  of  controversy  in  these 
sheets,  nor  any  sentiments  stated  with  which,  I  trust,  the  good 
in  all  persuasions  will  not  be  willing  to  join.  I  remembered  I 
was  writing  for  a  land  unhappily  divided  from  the  Catholic 
faith;  and  I  have  taken  care  to  say  nothing  which,  justly 
interpreted,  could  give  ground  for  accusing  me  of  partiality. 
But  if,  upon  collating  my  narrative  with  the  proofs  to  which 
I  refer  you — for  you  will  find  copies  of  many  of  the  original 
papers  in  that  parcel — you  are  of  opinion  that  I  have  been 
partial  to  my  own  faith,  I  freely  give  you  leave  to  correct  my 
errors  in  thafc  respect.  I  own,  however,  T  am  not  conscious  of 
this  defect,  and  have  rather  to  fear  that  the  Catholics  may  be 
of  opinion  that  I  have  mentioned  circumstances  respecting  the 
decay  of  discipline  which  preceded,  and  partly  occasioned,  the 
great  schism,  called  by  you  the  Reformation,  over  which  I 


46 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ought  to  have  drawn  a  veil.  And,  indeed,  this  is  one  reason 
why  I  choose  the  papers  should  appear  in  a  foreign  land,  and 
pass  to  the  press  through  the  hands  of  a  stranger." 

To  this  I  had  nothing  to  reply,  unless  to  object  my  own 
incompetency  to  the  task  the  good  father  was  desirous  to  im- 
pose upon  me.  On  this  subject  he  was  pleased  to  say  more,  I 
fear,  than  his  knowledge  of  me  fully  warranted — more,  at  any 
rate,  than  my  modesty  will  permit  me  to  record.  At  length 
he  ended  with  advising  me,  if  I  continued  to  feel  the  diffi- 
dence which  I  stated,  to  apply  to  some  veteran  of  literature, 
whose  experience  might  supply  my  deficiencies.  Upon  these 
terms  we  parted,  with  mutual  expressions  of  regard,  and  I 
have  never  since  heard  of  him. 

After  several  attempts  to  peruse  the  quires  of  paper  thus 
singularly  conferred  on  me,  in  which  I  was  interrupted  by  the 
most  inexplicable  fits  of  yawning,  I  at  length,  in  a  sort  of 
despair,  communicated  them  to  our  village  club,  from  whom 
they  found  a  more  favourable  reception  than  the  unlucky  con- 
formation of  my  nerves  had  been  able  to  afford  them.  They 
unanimously  pronounced  the  work  to  be  exceedingly  good, 
and  assured  me  I  would  be  guilty  of  the  greatest  possible  in- 
jury to  our  flourishing  village  if  I  should  suppress  what  threw 
such  an  interesting  and  radiant  light  upon  the  history  of  the 
ancient  Monastery  of  St.  Mary. 

At  length,  by  dint  of  listening  to  their  opinion,  I  became 
dubious  of  my  own ;  and,  indeed,  when  I  heard  passages  read 
forth  by  the  sonorous  voice  of  our  worthy  pastor,  I  was  scarce 
more  tired  than  I  have  felt  myself  at  some  of  his  own  sermons. 
Such  and  so  great  is  the  difference  betwixt  reading  a  thing 
oneself,  making  toilsome  way  through  all  the  difficulties  of 
manuscript,  and,  as  the  man  says  in  the  play,  "having  the 
same  read  to  you" :  it  is  positively  like  being  wafted  over  a 
creek  in  a  boat,  or  wading  through  it  on  your  feet,  with  the 
mud  up  to  your  knees.  Still,  however,  there  remained  the 
great  difficulty  of  finding  some  one  who  would  act  as  editor, 
corrector  at  once  of  the  press  and  of  the  language,  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  schoolmaster,  was  absolutely  necessary. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  47 


Since  the  trees  walked  forth  to  choose  themselves  a  king, 
never  was  an  honour  so  bandied  about.  The  parson  would  not 
leave  the  quiet  of  his  chimney-corner;  the  bailie  pleaded  the 
dignity  of  his  situation,  and  the  approach  of  the  great  annual 
fair,  as  reasons  against  going  to  Edinburgh  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  printing  the  Benedictine's  Manuscript.  The  school- 
master alone  seemed  of  malleable  stuff ;  and,  desirous  perhaps 
of  emulating  the  fame  of  Jedediah  Cleishbotham,  evinced  a 
wish  to  undertake  this  momentous  commission.  But  a  remon- 
strance from  three  opulent  farmers,  whose  sons  he  had  at 
bed,  board,  and  schooling  for  twenty  pounds  per  annum  a  head, 
came  like  a  frost  over  the  blossoms  of  his  literary  ambition,  and 
he  was  compelled  to  decline  the  service. 

In  these  circumstances,  sir,  I  apply  to  you,  by  the  advice 
of  our  little  council  of  war,  nothing  doubting  you  will  not  be 
disinclined  to  take  the  duty  upon  you,  as  it  is  much  connected 
with  that  in  which  you  have  distinguished  yourself.  What  I 
request  is,  that  you  will  review,  or  rather  revise  and  correct, 
the  inclosed  packet,  and  prepare  it  for  the  press,  by  such  al- 
terations, additions,  and  curtailments  as  you  think  necessary. 
Forgive  my  hinting  to  you  that  the  deepest  well  may  be  ex- 
hausted, the  best  corps  of  grenadiers,  as  our  old  general  of 
brigade  expressed  himself,  may  be  used  up.  A  few  hints  can 
do  you  no  harm ;  and,  for  the  prize-money,  let  the  battle  be 
first  won,  and  it  shall  be  parted  at  the  drum-head.  I  hope 
you  will  take  nothing  amiss  that  I  have  said.  I  am  a  plain 
soldier,  and  little  accustomed  to  compliments.  I  may  add, 
that  I  should  be  well  contented  to  march  in  the  front  with 
you — that  is,  to  put  my  name  with  yours  on  the  title-page. 

I  have  the  honour  to  be, 

Sir, 

Your  unknown  humble  Servant, 

CUTHBERT  ClTJTTERBUCK. 

Village  of  Kennaquhair, 
 of  April  18 — 

For  the  Author  of  Waverley,  etc., 
care  of  Mr.  John  Ballantyne, 
Hanover  Street,  Edinburgh. 


ANSWER 

BY 

THE  AUTHOR  OF  "WAVEELEY" 

TO  THE 

FOEEGOING  LETTEE 

FROM 

CAPTAIN  CLUTTEEBUCK. 


Dear  Captain  : 

Do  not  admire  that,  notwithstanding  the  distance  and  cere- 
mony of  your  address,  I  return  an  answer  in  the  terms  of  fa- 
miliarity. The  truth  is,  your  origin  and  native  country  are 
better  known  to  me  than  even  to  yourself.  You  derive  your 
•  respectable  parentage,  if  I  am  not  greatly  mistaken,  from  a 
land  which  has  afforded  much  pleasure,  as  well  as  profit,  to 
those  who  have  traded  to  it  successfully.  I  mean  that  part 
of  the  terra  incognita  which  is  called  the  province  of  Utopia. 
Its  productions,  though  censured  by  many  (and  some  who  use 
tea  and  tobacco  without  scruple)  as  idle  and  unsubstantial  lux- 
uries, have  nevertheless,  like  many  other  luxuries,  a  general 
acceptation,  and  are  secretly  enjoyed  even  by  those  who  ex- 
press the  greatest  scorn  and  dislike  of  them  in  public.  The 
dram-drinker  is  often  the  first  to  be  shocked  at  the  smell  of 
spirits ;  it  is  not  unusual  to  hear  old  maiden  ladies  declaim 
against  scandal ;  the  private  bookcases  of  some  grave-seeming 
men  would  not  brook  decent  eyes ;  and  many,  I  say  not  of  the 
wise  and  learned,  but  of  those  most  anxious  to  seem  such, 
when  the  spring-lock  of  their  library  is  drawn,  their  velvet 
4 


50 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


cap  pulled  over  their  ears,  their  feet  insinuated  into  their 
turkey  slippers,  are  to  be  found,  were  their  retreats  suddenly- 
intruded  upon,  busily  engaged  with  the  last  new  novel. 

I  have  said,  the  truly  wise  and  learned  disdain  these  shifts, 
and  will  open  the  said  novel  as  avowedly  as  they  would  the 
lid  of  their  snuff-box.  I  will  only  quote  one  instance,  though 
I  know  a  hundred.  Did  you  know  the  celebrated  Watt  of 
Birmingham,  Captain  Clutterbuck?  I  believe  not,  though, 
from  what  I  am  about  to  state,  he  would  not  have  failed  to 
have  sought  an  acquaintance  with  you.  It  was  only  once  my 
fortune  to  meet  him,  whether  in  body  or  in  spirit  it  matters 
not.  There  were  assembled  about  half  a  score  of  our  North- 
ern Lights,  who  had  amongst  them,  Heaven  knows  how,  a 
well-known  character  of  your  country,  Jedediah  Cleishboth- 
am.  This  worthy  person,  having  come  to  Edinburgh  during 
the  Christmas  vacation,  had  become  a  sort  of  lion  in  the  place, 
and  was  led  in  leash  from  house  to  house  along  with  the 
guisards,  the  stone-eater,  and  other  amusements  of  the  sea- 
son, which  "  exhibit  their  unparalleled  feats  to  private  family 
parties,  if  required."  Amidst  this  company  stood  Mr.  Watt, 
the  man  whose  genius  discovered  the  means  of  multiplying 
our  national  resources  to  a  degree  perhaps  even  beyond  his  own 
stupendous  powers  of  calculation  and  combination — bringing 
the  treasures  of  the  abyss  to  the  summit  of  the  earth,  giving 
the  feeble  arm  of  man  the  momentum  of  an  Afrite,  command- 
ing manufactures  to  arise,  as  the  rod  of  the  prophet  produced 
water  in  the  desert,  affording  the  means  of  dispensing  with 
that  time  and  tide  which  wait  for  no  man,  and  of  sailing  with- 
out that  wind  which  defied  the  commands  and  threats  of  Xerxes 
himself. 1  This  potent  commander  of  the  elements,  this  abridger 
of  time  and  space,  this  magician,  whose  cloudy  machinery 
has  produced  a  change  on  the  world  the  effects  of  which,  ex- 

1  Probably  the  ingenious  Author  alludes  to  the  national  adage  : 

The  king  said  sail, 
But  the  wind  said  no. 

Our  schoolmaster,  who  is  also  a  land-surveyor,  thinks  this  whole  pas- 
sage refers  to  Mr.  Watt's  improvements  on  the  steam-engine.— Note  by 
Captain  Clutterbuck. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  51 


traordinary  as  they  are,  are  perhaps  only  now  beginning  to 
be  felt,  was  not  only  the  most  profound  man  of  science,  the 
most  successful  combiner  of  powers  and  calculator  of  numbers, 
as  adapted  to  practical  purposes,  was  not  only  one  of  the  most 
generally  well-informed,  but  one  of  the  best  and  kindest  of 
human  beings. 

There  he  stood,  surrounded  by  the  little  band  I  have  men- 
tioned of  Northern  literati,  men  not  less  tenacious,  generally 
speaking,  of  their  own  fame  and  their  own  opinions  than  the 
national  regiments  are  supposed  to  be  jealous  of  the  high 
character  which  they  have  won  upon  service.  Methinks  I  yet 
see  and  hear  what  I  shall  never  see  or  hear  again.  In  his 
eighty-fifth  year,  the  alert,  kind,  benevolent  old  man  had  his 
attention  alive  to  every  one's  question,  his  information  at 
every  one's  command. 

His  talent  and  fancy  overflowed  on  every  subject.  One 
gentleman  was  a  deep  philologist — he  talked  with  him  on  the 
origin  of  the  alphabet  as  if  he  had  been  coeval  with  Cadmus ; 
another  a  celebrated  critic — you  would  have  said  the  old  man 
had  studied  political  economy  and  belles-lettres  all  his  life; 
of  science  it  is  unnecessary  to  speak,  it  was  his  own  distin- 
guished walk.  And  yet,  Captain  Clutterbuck,  when  he  spoke 
with  your  countryman,  Jedediah  Cleishbotham,  you  would 
have  sworn  he  had  been  coeval  with  Claver'se  and  Burley, 
with  the  persecutors  and  persecuted,  and  could  number  every 
shot  the  dragoons  had  fired  at  the  fugitive  Covenanters.  In 
fact,  we  discovered  that  no  novel  of  the  least  celebrity  escaped 
his  perusal,  and  that  the  gifted  man  of  science  was  as  much 
addicted  to  the  productions  of  your  native  country  (the  land 
of  Utopia  aforesaid) — in  other  words,  as  shameless  and  obsti- 
nate a  peruser  of  novels  as  if  he  had  been  a  very  milliner's 
apprentice  of  eighteen.  I  know  little  apology  for  troubling 
you  with  these  things,  excepting  the  desire  to  commemorate 
a  delightful  evening,  and  a  wish  to  encourage  you  to  shake 
off  that  modest  diffidence  which  makes  you  afraid  of  being 
supposed  connected  with  the  fairyland  of  delusive  fiction.  I 
will  requite  your  tag  of  verse  from  Horace  himself,  with  a 
paraphrase  for  your  own  use,  my  dear  Captain,  and  for  that 

"m  U.  OF  I.  LIB. 


52 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  your  country  club,  excepting  in  reverence  the  clergyman 
and  schoolmaster : 

Ne  sit  ancillse  tibi  amor  pudori,  etc. 

Take  thou  no  scorn, 

Of  fiction  born, 
Fair  fiction's  muse  to  woo  j 

Old  Homer's  theme 

Was  but  a  dream, 
Himself  a  fiction  too. 

Having  told  you  your  country,  I  must  next,  my  dear  Cap- 
tain Clutterbuck,  make  free  to  mention  your  own  immediate 
descent.  You  are  not  to  suppose  your  land  of  prodigies  so 
little  known  to  us  as  the  careful  concealment  of  your  origin 
would  seem  to  imply.  But  you  have  it  in  common  with  many 
of  your  country,  studiously  and  anxiously  to  hide  any  connex- 
ion with  it.  There  is  this  difference,  indeed,  betwixt  your 
countrymen  and  those  of  our  more  material  world,  that  many 
of  the  most  estimable  of  them,  such  as  an  old  Highland  gen- 
tleman called  Ossian,  a  monk  of  Bristol  called  Kowley,  and 
others,  are  inclined  to  pass  themselves  off  as  denizens  of  the 
land  of  reality,  whereas  most  of  our  fellow-citizens  who  deny 
their  country  are  such  as  that  country  would  be  very  willing 
to  disclaim.  The  especial  circumstances  you  mention  relating 
to  your  life  and  services  impose  not  upon  us.  We  know  the 
versatility  of  the  unsubstantial  species  to  which  you  belong 
permits  them  to  assume  all  manner  of  disguises :  we  have  seen 
them  apparelled  in  the  caftan  of  a  Persian,  and  the  silken 
robe  of  a  Chinese, 1  and  are  prepared  to  suspect  their  real  char- 
acter under  every  disguise.  But  how  can  we  be  ignorant  of 
your  country  and  manners,  or  deceived  by  the  evasion  of  its 
inhabitants,  when  the  voyages  of  discovery 2  which  have  been 
made  to  it  rival  in  number  those  recorded  by  Purchas  or  by 
Hackluyt?  And  to  show  the  skill  and  perseverance  of  your 
navigators  and  travellers,  we  have  only  to  name  Sindbad, 
Aboulfouaris,  and  Eobinson  Crusoe.  These  were  the  men 
for  discoveries.  Could  we  have  sent  Captain  Greenland  to 
look  out  for  the  northwest  passage,  or  Peter  Wilkins  to  ex- 

1  See  TJie  Persian  Letters,  and  The  Citizen  of  the  World, 

2  See  Les  Voyages  Imaginaires, 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  53 


amine  Baffin's  Bay,  what  discoveries  might  we  not  have  ex- 
pected! But  there  are  feats,  and  these  both  numerous  and 
extraordinary,  performed  by  the  inhabitants  of  your  country, 
which  we  read  without  once  attempting  to  emulate. 

I  wander  from  my  purpose,  which  was  to  assure  you,  that 
I  know  you  as  well  as  the  mother  who  did  not  bear  you,  for 
MacDufFs  peculiarity  sticks  to  your  whole  race.  You  are 
not  born  of  woman,  unless,  indeed,  in  that  figurative  sense  in 
which  the  celebrated  Maria  Edgeworth  may,  in  her  state  of 
single  blessedness,  be  termed  mother  of  the  finest  family  in 
England.  You  belong,  sir,  to  the  editors  of  the  land  of 
Utopia,  a  sort  of  persons  for  whom  I  have  the  highest  es- 
teem. How  is  it  possible  it  should  be  otherwise,  when  you 
reckon  among  your  corporation  the  sage  Cid  Hamet  Benen- 
geli,  the  short-faced  president  of  the  Spectator's  club,  poor 
Ben  Silton,  and  many  others,  who  have  acted  as  gentlemen- 
ushers  to  works  which  have  cheered  our  heaviest,  and  added 
wings  to  our  lightest,  hours? 

What  I  have  remarked  as  peculiar  to  editors  of  the  class  in 
which  I  venture  to  enrol  you  is  the  happy  combination  of  for- 
tuitous circumstances,  which  usually  put  you  in  possession  of 
the  works  which  you  have  the  goodness  to  bring  into  public 
notice.  One  walks  on  the  sea-shore,  and  a  wave  casts  on  land 
a  small  cylindrical  trunk  or  casket,  containing  a  manuscript 
much  damaged  with  sea-water,  which  is  with  difficulty  de- 
ciphered, and  so  forth.1  Another  steps  into  a  chandler's 
shop,  to  purchase  a  pound  of  butter,  and  behold!  the  waste- 
paper  on  which  it  is  laid  is  the  manuscript  of  a  cabalist.2  A 
third  is  so  fortunate  as  to  obtain  from  a  woman  who  lets  lod- 
gings the  curious  contents  of  an  antique  bureau,  the  property 
of  a  deceased  lodger.3  All  these  are  certainly  possible  occur- 
rences ;  but,  I  know  not  how,  they  seldom  occur  to  any  editors 
save  those  of  your  country.  At  least  I  can  answer  for  my- 
self, that  in  my  solitary  walks  by  the  sea,  I  never  saw  it  cast 
ashore  anything  but  dulse  and  tangle,  and  now  and  then  a 
deceased  starfish ;  my  landlady  never  presented  me  with  any 

1  See  the  History  of  Automathes.  2  Adventures  of  a  Guinea. 

3  Adventures  of  an  Atom. 


54 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


manuscript  save  her  cursed  bill;  and  the  most  interesting  of 
my  discoveries  in  the  way  of  waste-paper  was  finding  a  fa- 
vourite passage  of  one  of  my  own  novels  wrapt  round  an  ounce 
of  snuff.  No,  Captain,  the  funds  from  which  I  have  drawn 
my  power  of  amusing  the  public  have  been  bought  other- 
wise than  by  fortuitous  adventure.  I  have  buried  myself  in 
libraries,  to  extract  from  the  nonsense  of  ancient  days  new 
nonsense  of  my  own.  I  have  turned  over  volumes  which, 
from  the  pot-hooks  I  was  obliged  to  decipher,  might  have  been 
the  cabalistic  manuscripts  of  Cornelius  Agrippa,  although  I 
never  saw  "the  door  open  and  the  devil  come  in."  1  But  all 
the  domestic  inhabitants  of  the  libraries  were  disturbed  by  the 
vehemence  of  my  studies : 

From  my  research  the  boldest  spider  fled, 
And  moths,  retreating,  trembled  as  I  read. 

From  this  learned  sepulchre  I  emerged,  like  the  Magician 
in  the  Persian  Tales  from  his  twelvemonth's  residence  in  the 
mountain  not  like  him  to  soar  over  the  heads  of  the  multi- 
tude, but  to  mingle  in  the  crowd,  and  to  elbow  amongst  the 
throng,  making  my  way  from  the  highest  society  to  the  low- 
est, undergoing  the  scorn,  or,  what  is  harder  to  brook,  the 
patronising  condescension  of  the  one,  and  enduring  the  vulgar 
familiarity  of  the  other;  and  all,  you  will  say,  for  what?  To 
collect  materials  for  one  of  those  manuscripts  with  which 
mere  chance  so  often  accommodates  your  countrymen — in  other 
words,  to  write  a  successful  novel.  "  0  Athenians,  how  hard 
we  labour  to  deserve  your  praise!" 

I  might  stop  here,  my  dear  Clutterbuck ;  it  would  have  a 
touching  effect,  and  the  air  of  proper  deference  to  our  dear  pub- 
lic. But  I  will  not  be  false  with  you,  though  falsehood  is — 
excuse  the  obsei vation — the  current  coin  of  your  country ;  the 
truth  is,  I  have  studied  and  lived  for  the  purpose  of  gratify- 
ing my  own  curiosity,  and  passing  my  own  time ;  and  though 
the  result  has  been  that,  in  one  shape  or  other,  I  have  been 
frequently  before  the  public,  perhaps  more  frequently  than 
prudence  warranted,  yet  I  cannot  claim  from  them  the  favour 

i  See  Southey's  Ballad  on  the  Young  Man  who  read  in  a  Conjuror's  Books. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY. 


55 


due  to  those  who  have  dedicated  their  ease  and  leisure  to  the 
improvement  and  entertainment  of  others. 

Having  communicated  thus  freely  with  you,  my  dear  Cap- 
tain, it  follows  of  course  that  I  will  gratefully  accept  of  your 
communication,  which,  as  your  Benedictine  observed,  divides 
itself  both  by  subject,  manner,  and  age  into  two  parts.  But 
I  am  sorry  I  cannot  gratify  your  literary  ambition  by  suffer- 
ing your  name  to  appear  upon  the  title-page ;  and  I  will  can- 
didly tell  you  the  reason. 

The  editors  of  your  country  are  of  such  a  soft  and  passive 
disposition  that  they  have  frequently  done  themselves  great 
disgrace  by  giving  up  the  coadjutors  who  first  brought  them 
into  public  notice  and  public  favour,  and  suffering  their  names 
to  be  used  by  those  quacks  and  impostors  who  live  upon  the 
ideas  of  others.  Thus  I  shame  to  tell  how  the  sage  Cid 
Hamet  Benengeli  was  induced  by  one  Juan  Avellaneda  to 
play  the  Turk  with  the  ingenious  Miguel  Cervantes,  and  to 
publish  a  Second  Part  of  the  adventures  of  his  hero,  the  re- 
nowned Don  Quixote,  without  the  knowledge  or  co-operation 
of  his  principal  aforesaid.  It  is  true,  the  Arabian  sage  re- 
turned to  his  allegiance,  and  thereafter  composed  a  genuine 
continuation  of  the  Knight  of  La  Mancha,  in  which  the  said 
Avellaneda  of  Tordesillas  is  severely  chastised.  For  in  this 
you  pseudo-editors  resemble  the  juggler's  disciplined  ape,  to 
which  a  sly  old  Scotsman  likened  James  I. :  "  If  you  have 
Jackoo  in  your  hand  you  can  make  him  bite  me;  if  I  have 
Jackoo  in  my  hand  I  can  make  him  bite  you."  Yet,  not- 
withstanding the  amende  honorable  thus  made  by  Cid  Hamet 
Benengeli,  his  temporary  defection  did  not  the  less  occasion 
the  decease  of  the  ingenious  hidalgo  Don  Quixote,  if  he  can 
be  said  to  die  whose  memory  is  immortal.  Cervantes  put 
him  to  death  lest  he  should  again  fall  into  bad  hands.  Awful 
yet  just  consequence  of  Cid  Hamet' s  defection! 

To  quote  a  more  modern  and  much  less  important  instance. 
I  am  sorry  to  observe  my  old  acquaintance,  Jedediah  Cleish- 
botham,  has  misbehaved  himself  so  far  as  to  desert  his  origi- 
nal patron  and  set  up  for  himself.  I  am  afraid  the  poor  peda- 
gogue will  make  little  by  his  new  allies,  unless  the  pleasure  of 


56 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


entertaining  the  public,  and,  for  aught  I  know,  the  gentlemen 
of  the  long  robe,  with  disputes  about  his  identity. 1  Observe, 
therefore,  Captain  Clutterbuck,  that,  wise  by  these  great  ex- 
amples, I  receive  you  as  a  partner,  but  a  sleeping  partner 
only.  As  I  give  you  no  title  to  employ  or  use  the  firm  of 
the  co-partnery  we  are  about  to  form,  I  will  announce  my 
property  in  my  title-page,  and  put  my  own  mark  on  my  own 
chattels,  which  the  attorney  tells  me  it  will  be  a  crime  to 
counterfeit,  as  much  as  it  would  to  imitate  the  autograph 
of  any  other  empiric — a  crime  amounting,  as  advertisements 
upon  little  vials  assure  us,  to  nothing  short  of  felony.  If, 
therefore,  my  dear  friend,  your  name  should  hereafter  appear 
in  any  title-page  without  mine,  readers  will  know  what  to 
think  of  you.  I  scorn  to  use  either  arguments  or  threats ;  but 
you  cannot  but  be  sensible  that,  as  you  owe  your  literary  ex- 
istence to  me  on  the  one  hand,  so,  on  the  other,  your  very  all 
is  at  my  disposal.  I  can  at  pleasure  cut  off  your  annuity, 
strike  your  name  from  the  half -pay  establishment — nay,  actu- 
ally put  you  to  death,  without  being  answerable  to  any  one. 
These  are  plain  words  to  a  gentleman  who  has  served  during 
the  whole  war ;  but  I  am  aware  you  will  take  nothing  amiss 
at  my  hands. 

And  now,  my  good  sir,  let  us  address  ourselves  to  our  task, 
and  arrange  as  we  best  can  the  manuscript  of  your  Benedic- 
tine, so  as  to  suit  the  taste  of  this  critical  age.  You  will  find 
I  have  made  very  liberal  use  of  his  permission  to  alter  what- 
ever seemed  too  favourable  to  the  Church  of  Rome,  which  I 
abominate,  were  it  but  for  her  fasts  and  penances. 

1  I  am  since  more  correctly  informed  that  Mr.  Cleishbotham  died  some 
months  since  at  Gandercleugh,  and  that  the  person  assuming  his  name  is 
an  impostor.  The  real  Jedediah  made  a  most  Christian  and  edifying  end  ; 
and,  as  I  am  credibly  informed,  having  sent  for  a  Cameronian  clergyman 
when  he  was  in  extremis,  was  so  fortunate  as  to  convince  the  good  man 
that,  after  all,  he  had  no  wish  to  bring  down  on  the  scattered  remnant  of 
Mountain  folks  "  the  bonnets  of  Bonny  Dundee."  Hard  that  the  specula- 
tors in  print  and  paper  will  not  allow  a  good  man  to  rest  quiet  in  his 
grave ! 

This  note,  and  the  passages  in  the  text,  were  occasioned  by  a  London 
bookseller  having  printed,  as  a  speculation,  an  additional  collection  of 
Tales  of  my  Landlord  which  was  not  so  fortunate  as  to  succeed  in  passing  on 
the  world  as  genuine. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MONASTERY.  57 


Our  reader  is  doubtless  impatient,  and  we  must  own  with 
John  Bunyan: 

We  have  too  long  detain' d  him  in  the  porch, 
And  kept  him  from  the  sunshine  with  a  torch. 

Adieu,  therefore,  my  dear  Captain;  remember  me  respect- 
fully to  the  parson,  the  schoolmaster,  and  the  bailie,  and  all 
friends  of  the  happy  club  in  the  village  of  Kennaquhair.  I 
have  never  seen,  and  never  shall  see,  one  of  their  faces  y  and, 
notwithstanding,  I  believe  that  as  yet  I  am  better  acquainted 
with  them  than  any  other  man  who  lives.  I  shall  soon  intro- 
duce you  to  my  jocund  friend,  Mr.  John  Ballantyne  of  Trinity 
Grove,  whom  you  will  find  warm  from  his  match  at  single- 
stick with  a  brother  publisher.1  Peace  to  their  differences! 
It  is  a  wrathful  trade,  and  the  irritabile  genus  comprehends 
the  bookselling  as  well  as  the  book-writing  species. — Once 
more  adieu! 

The  Author  of  "Waverley." 

1  In  consequence  of  the  pseudo  Tales  of  my  Landlord  printed  in  London, 
as  already  mentioned,  the  late  Mr.  John  Ballantyne,  the  Author's  pub- 
lisher, had  a  controversy  with  the  interloping  bibliopolist,  each  insisting 
that  his  Jedediah  Cleishbotham  was  the  real  Simon  Pure. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

Oh  ay  !  the  monks,  the  monks, they  did  the  mischief! 

Theirs  all  the  grossness,  all  the  superstition 

Of  a  most  gross  and  superstitious  age. 

May  He  be  praised  that  sent  the  healthful  tempest 

And  scatter' d  all  these  pestilential  vapours  ! 

But  that  we  owed  them  all  to  yonder  harlot 

Throned  on  the  seven  hills  with  her  cup  of  gold, 

I  will  as  soon  believe,  with  kind  Sir  Roger, 

That  old  Moll  White  took  wing  with  cat  and  broomstick, 

And  raised  the  last  night's  thunder. 

Old  Play. 

The  village  described  in  the  Benedictine's  manuscript  by 
the  name  of  Kennaquhair  bears  the  same  Celtic  termination 
which  occurs  in  Traquhair,  Caquhair,  and  other  compounds. 
The  learned  Chalmers  derives  this  word  "  quhair"  from  the 
winding  course  of  a  stream;  a  definition  which  coincides,  in 
a  remarkable  degree,  with  the  serpentine  turns  of  the  river 
Tweed  near  the  village  of  which  we  speak.  It  has  been  long 
famous  for  the  splendid  Monastery  of  St.  Mary,  founded  by 
David  the  First  of  Scotland,  in  whose  reign  were  formed,  in 
the  same  county,  the  no  less  splendid  establishments  of  Mel- 
rose, Jedburgh,  and  Kelso.  The  donations  of  land  with  which 
the  King  endowed  these  wealthy  fraternities  procured  him 
from  the  monkish  historians  the  epithet  of  Saint,  and  from 
one  of  his  impoverished  descendants  the  splenetic  censure, 
"that  he  had  been  a  sore  saint  for  the  crown." 

It  seems  probable,  notwithstanding,  that  David,  who  was  a 
wise  as  well  as  a  pious  monarch,  was  not  moved  solely  by  re- 
ligious motives  to  those  great  acts  of  munificence  to  the  church, 
but  annexed  political  views  to  his  pious  generosity.    His  pos- 


60 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


sessions  in  Northumberland  and  Cumberland  became  precari- 
ous after  the  loss  of  the  Battle  of  the  Standard ;  and  since  the 
comparatively  fertile  valley  of  Teviotdale  was  likely  to  become 
the  frontier  of  his  kingdom,  it  is  probable  he  wished  to  secure 
at  least  a  part  of  these  valuable  possessions  by  placing  them 
in  the  hands  of  the  monks,  whose  property  was  for  a  long 
time  respected,  even  amidst  the  rage  of  a  frontier  war.  In 
this  manner  alone  had  the  King  some  chance  of  ensuring  pro- 
tection and  security  to  the  cultivators  of  the  soil ;  and,  in  fact, 
for  several  ages  the  possessions  of  these  abbeys  were  each  a 
sort  of  Goshen,  enjoying  the  calm  light  of  peace  and  im- 
munity, while  the  rest  of  the  country,  occupied  by  wild  clans 
and  marauding  barons,  was  one  dark  scene  of  confusion,  blood, 
and  unremitted  outrage. 

But  these  immunities  did  not  continue  down  to  the  union 
of  the  crowns.  Long  before  that  period  the  wars  betwixt 
England  and  Scotland  had  lost  their  original  character  of  in- 
ternational hostilities,  and  had  become  on  the  part  of  the  Eng- 
lish a  struggle  for  subjugation,  on  that  of  the  Scots  a  desperate 
and  infuriated  defence  of  their  liberties.  This  introduced  on 
both  sides  a  degree  of  fury  and  animosity  unknown  to  the 
earlier  period  of  their  history ;  and  as  religious  scruples  soon 
gave  way  to  national  hatred,  spurred  by  a  love  of  plunder,  the 
patrimony  of  the  church  was  no  longer  sacred  from  incursions 
on  either  side.  Still,  however,  the  tenants  and  vassals  of  the 
great  abbeys  had  many  advantages  over  those  of  the  lay  bar- 
ons, who  were  harassed  by  constant  military  duty,  until  they 
became  desperate,  and  lost  all  relish  for  the  arts  of  peace. 
The  vassals  of  the  church,  on  the  other  hand,  were  only  lia- 
ble to  be  called  to  arms  on  general  occasions,  and  at  other  times 
were  permitted  in  comparative  quiet  to  possess  their  farms 
and  feus.1  They,  of  course,  exhibited  superior  skill  in  every- 
thing that  related  to  the  cultivation  of  the  soil,  and  were 
therefore  both  wealthier  and  better  informed  than  the  mili- 
tary retainers  of  the  restless  chiefs  and  nobles  in  their  neigh- 
bourhood. 

The  residence  of  these  church  vassals  was  usually  in  a  small 
1  See  Church  Tenants.   Note  1. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


61 


village  or  hamlet,  where,  for  the  sake  of  mutual  aid  and  pro- 
tection, some  thirty  or  forty  families  dwelt  together.  This  was 
called  the  town,  and  the  land  belonging  to  the  various  families 
by  whom  the  town  was  inhabited  was  called  the  township. 
They  usually  possessed  the  land  in  common,  though  in  various 
proportions,  according  to  their  several  grants.  The  part  of 
the  township  properly  arable,  and  kept  as  such  continually 
under  the  plough,  was  called  in-field.  Here  the  use  of  quan- 
tities of  manure  supplied  in  some  degree  the  exhaustion  of 
the  soil,  and  the  feuars  raised  tolerable  oats  and  bear,  usually 
sowed  on  alternate  ridges,  on  which  the  labour  of  the  whole 
community  was  bestowed  without  distinction,  the  produce  being 
divided  after  harvest,  agreeably  to  their  respective  interests. 

There  was,  besides,  out-field  land,  from  which  it  was 
thought  possible  to  extract  a  crop  now  and  then,  after  which 
it  was  abandoned  to  the  "  skyey  influences, "  until  the  ex- 
hausted powers  of  vegetation  were  restored.  These  out-field 
spots  were  selected  by  any  feuar  at  his  own  choice,  amongst 
the  sheep-walks  and  hills  which  were  always  annexed  to 
the  township,  to  serve  as  pasturage  to  the  community.  The 
trouble  of  cultivating  these  patches  of  out-field,  and  the  pre- 
carious chance  that  the  crop  would  pay  the  labour,  were  con- 
sidered as  giving  a  right  to  any  feuar  who  chose  to  undertake 
the  adventure  to  the  produce  which  might  result  from  it. 

There  remained  the  pasturage  of  extensive  moors,  where 
the  valleys  often  afforded  good  grass,  and  upon  which  the 
whole  cattle  belonging  to  the  community  fed  indiscriminately 
during  the  summer,  under  the  charge  of  the  town -herd,  who 
regularly  drove  them  out  to  pasture  in  the  morning,  and 
brought  them  back  at  night,  without  which  precaution  they 
would  have  fallen  a  speedy  prey  to  some  of  the  snatchers  in 
the  neighbourhood.  These  are  things  to  make  modern  agricul- 
turists hold  up  their  hands  and  stare ;  but  the  same  mode  of 
cultivation  is  not  yet  entirely  in  desuetude  in  some  distant 
parts  of  North  Britain,  and  may  be  witnessed  in  full  force  and 
exercise  in  the  Zetland  Archipelago. 

The  habitations  of  the  church  feuars  were  not  less  primitive 
than  their  agriculture.    In  each  village  or  town  were  several 


62 


WAVEKLEY  NOVELS. 


small  towers,  having  battlements  projecting  over  the  side  walls, 
and  usually  an  advanced  angle  or  two  with  shot-holes  for  flank- 
ing the  doorway,  which  was  always  defended  by  a  strong  door 
of  oak,  studded  with  nails,  and  often  by  an  exterior  grated  door 
of  iron.  These  small  peel-houses  were  ordinarily  inhabited 
by  the  principal  feuars  and  their  families;  but,  upon  the 
alarm  of  approaching  danger,  the  whole  inhabitants  thronged 
from  their  own  miserable  cottages,  which  were  situated  around, 
to  garrison  these  points  of  defence.  It  was  then  no  easy  mat- 
ter for  a  hostile  party  to  penetrate  into  the  village,  for  the  men 
were  habituated  to  the  use  of  bows  and  firearms,  and  the 
towers  being  generally  so  placed  that  the  discharge  from  one 
crossed  that  of  another,  it  was  impossible  to  assault  any  of 
them  individually. 

The  interior  of  these  houses  was  usually  sufficiently  wretch- 
ed, for  it  would  have  been  folly  to  have  furnished  them  in  a 
manner  which  could  excite  the  avarice  of  their  lawless  neigh- 
bours. Yet  the  families  themselves  exhibited  in  their  appear- 
ance a  degree  of  comfort,  information,  and  independence  which 
could  hardly  have  been  expected.  Their  in-field  supplied  them 
with  bread  and  home-brewed  ale,  their  herds  and  flocks  with 
beef  and  mutton  (the  extravagance  of  killing  lambs  or  calves 
was  never  thought  of).  Each  family  killed  a  mart,  or  fat  bul- 
lock, in  November,  which  was  salted  up  for  winter  use,  to 
which  the  goodwife  could,  upon  great  occasions,  add  a  dish 
of  pigeons  or  a  fat  capon;  the  ill-cultivated  garden  afforded 
"  lang-cale" ;  and  the  river  gave  salmon  to  serve  as  a  relish 
during  the  season  of  Lent. 

Of  fuel  they  had  plenty,  for  the  bogs  afforded  turf;  and 
the  remains  of  the  abused  woods  continued  to  give  them  logs 
for  burning,  as  well  as  timber  for  the  usual  domestic  pur- 
poses. In  addition  to  these  comforts,  the  goodman  would 
now  and  then  sally  forth  to  the  greenwood,  and  mark  down 
a  buck  of  season  with  his  gun  or  his  cross-bow ;  and  the  fa- 
ther confessor  seldom  refused  him  absolution  for  the  trespass, 
if  duly  invited  to  take  his  share  of  the  smoking  haunch. 
Some,  still  bolder,  made,  either  with  their  own  domestics  or 
by  associating  themselves  with  the  moss-troopers,  in  the  lan- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


63 


guage  of  shepherds,  "  a  start  and  overloup" ;  and  the  golden 
ornaments  and  silken  headgear  worn  by  the  females  of  one 
or  two  families  of  note  were  invidiously  traced  by  their  neigh- 
bours to  such  successful  excursions.  This,  however,  was  a 
more  inexpiable  crime  in  the  eyes  of  the  abbot  and  community 
of  St.  Mary's  than  the  borrowing  one  of  the  "gude  king's 
deer" ;  and  they  failed  not  to  discountenance  and  punish,  by 
every  means  in  their  power,  offences  which  were  sure  to  lead 
to  severe  retaliation  upon  the  property  of  the  church,  and 
which  tended  to  alter  the  character  of  their  peaceful  vassalage. 

As  for  the  information  possessed  by  those  dependants  of 
the  abbacies,  they  might  have  been  truly  said  to  be  better  fed 
than  taught,  even  though  their  fare  had  been  worse  than  it 
was.  Still,  however,  they  enjoyed  opportunities  of  knowledge 
from  which  others  were  excluded.  The  monks  were  in  general 
well  acquainted  with  their  vassals  and  tenants,  and  familiar 
in  the  families  of  the  better  class  among  them,  where  they 
were  sure  to  be  received  with  the  respect  due  to  their  twofold 
character  of  spiritual  father  and  secular  landlord.  Thus  it 
often  happened,  when  a  boy  displayed  talents  and  inclination 
for  study,  one  of  the  brethren,  with  a  view  to  his  being  bred 
to  the  church,  or  out  of  good-nature,  in  order  to  pass  away 
his  own  idle  time,  if  he  had  no  better  motive,  initiated  him 
into  the  mysteries  of  reading  and  writing,  and  imparted  to 
him  such  other  knowledge  as  he  himself  possessed.  And  the 
heads  of  these  allied  families,  having  more  time  for  reflection, 
and  more  skill,  as  well  as  stronger  motives  for  improving  their 
small  properties,  bore  amongst  their  neighbours  the  character 
of  shrewd,  intelligent  men,  who  claimed  respect  on  account  of 
their  comparative  wealth,  even  while  they  were  despised  for 
a  less  warlike  and  enterprising  turn  than  the  other  Borderers. 
They  lived  as  much  as  they  well  could  amongst  themselves, 
avoiding  the  company  of  others,  and  dreading  nothing  more 
than  to  be  involved  in  the  deadly  feuds  and  ceaseless  conten- 
tions of  the  secular  landholders. 

Such  is  a  general  picture  of  these  communities.  During 
the  fatal  wars  in  the  commencement  of  Queen  Mary's  reign 
they  had  suffered  dreadfully  by  the  hostile  invasions.  For 


64 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  English,  now  a  Protestant  people,  were  so  far  from  spar- 
ing the  church  lands,  that  they  forayed  them  with  more  unre- 
lenting severity  than  even  the  possessions  of  the  laity.  But 
the  peace  of  1550  had  restored  some  degree  of  tranquillity  to 
these  distracted  and  harassed  regions,  and  matters  began  again 
gradually  to  settle  upon  the  former  footing.  The  monks  re- 
paired their  ravaged  shrines ;  the  f euar  again  roofed  his  small 
fortalice  which  the  enemy  had  ruined;  the  poor  labourer  re- 
built his  cottage — an  easy  task,  where  a  few  sods,  stones,  and  a 
few  pieces  of  wood  from  the  next  copse  furnished  all  the  ma- 
terials necessary.  The  cattle,  lastly,  were  driven  out  of  the 
wastes  and  thickets  in  which  the  remnant  of  them  had  been 
secreted;  and  the  mighty  bull  moved  at  the  head  of  his  sera- 
glio and  their  followers,  to  take  possession  of  their  wonted  pas- 
tures. There  ensued  peace  and  quiet,  the  state  of  the  age  and 
nation  considered,  to  the  Monastery  of  St.  Mary  and  its  de- 
pendencies for  several  tranquil  years. 


CHAPTER,  II. 

In  yon  lone  vale  his  early  youth  was  bred, 
Not  solitary  then  ;  the  bugle-horn 
Of  fell  AJecto  often  waked  its  windings, 
From  where^Aie  brook  joins  the  majestic  river 
To  the  wild  nortl&rn  bog,  the  curlew's  haunt, 
Where  oozes  forth  its^rst  and  feeble  streamlet. 

Old  Play. 

We  have  said  that  most  of  the  feu^  dwelt  in  the  village 
belonging  to  their  township.  This  was  not*,  however,  univer- 
sally the  case.  A  lonely  tower,  to  which  the^r^-er  must  now 
be  introduced,  was  at  least  one  exception  to  the  general  rule. 

It  was  of  small  dimensions,  yet  larger  than  those  ^hich  oc- 
curred in  the  village,  as  intimating  that,  in  case  of  assart  the 
proprietor  would  have  to  rely  upon  his  own  unassisted  strength. 
Two  or  three  miserable  huts,  at  the  foot  of  the  fortalice,'  .held, 
the  bondsmen  and  tenants  of  the  feuar.  The  site  was  a  b?au~ 
tiful  green  knoll,  which  started  up  suddenly  in  the  very  thioat 
of  a  wild  and  narrow  glen,  and  which,  being  surrounded,  £x" 


THE  MONASTERY. 


65 


cept  on  one  side,  by  the  winding  of  a  small  stream,  afforded 
a  position  of  considerable  strength. 

But  the  great  security  of  Glendearg,  for  so  the  place  was 
called,  lay  in  its  secluded  and  almost  hidden  situation.  To 
reach  the  tower,  it  was  necessary  to  travel  three  miles  up  the 
glen,  crossing  about  twenty  times  the  little  stream,  which, 
winding  through  the  narrow  valley,  encountered  at  every  hun- 
dred yards  the  opposition  of  a  rock  or  precipitous  bank  on 
the  one  side,  which  altered  its  course,  and  caused  it  to  shoot 
off  in  an  oblique  direction  to  the  other.  The  hills  which  as- 
cend on  each  side  of  this  glen  are  very  steep,  and  rise  boldly 
over  the  stream,  which  is  thus  imprisoned  within  their  bar- 
riers. The  sides  of  the  glen  are  impracticable  for  horse,  and 
are  only  to  be  traversed  by  means  of  the  sheep-paths  which 
lie  along  their  sides.  It  would  not  be  readily  supposed  that 
a  road  so  hopeless  and  so  difncu"  c  could  lead  to  any  habitation 
more  important  than  the  summer  shealing  of  a  shepherd. 

Yet  the  glen,  though  lonely,  nearly  inaccessible,  and  sterile, 
was  not  then  absolutely  void  of  beauty.  The  turf  which  cov- 
ered the  small  portion  of  level  ground  on  the  sides  of  the 
stream  was  as  close  and  verdant  as  if  it  had  occupied  the 
scythes  of  a  hundred  gardeners  once  a  fortnight ;  and  it  was 
garnished  with  an  embroidery  of  daisies  and  wild-flowers 
which  the  scythes  would  certainly  have  destroyed.  The  little 
brook,  now  confined  betwixt  closer  limits,  now  left  at  large  to 
choose  its  course  through  the  narrow  valley,  danced  carelessly 
on  from  stream  to  pool,  light  and  unturbid,  as  that  better  class 
of  spirits  who  pass  their  way  through  life,  yielding  to  insur- 
mountable obstacles,  but  as  far  from  being  subdued  by  them 
as  the  sailor  who  meets  by  chance  with  an  unfavourable  wind, 
and  shapes  his  course  so  as  to  be  driven  back  as  little  as 
possible. 

The  mountains,  as  they  would  have  been  called  in  England, 
Scottice  the  steep  braes,  rose  abruptly  over  the  little  glen,  here 
presenting  the  grey  face  of  a  rock,  from  which  the  turf  had 
been  peeled  by  the  torrents,  and  there  displaying  patches  of 
wood  and  copse,  which  had  escaped  the  waste  of  the  cattle 
and  the  sheep  of  the  feuars,  and  which,  feathering  naturally 


66 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


up  the  beds  of  empty  torrents,  or  occupying  the  concave  re- 
cesses of  the  bank,  gave  at  once  beauty  and  variety  to  the 
landscape.  Above  these  scattered  woods  rose  the  hill  in  bar- 
ren but  purple  majesty;  the  dark  rich  hue,  particularly  in 
autumn,  contrasting  beautifully  with  the  thickets  of  oak  and 
birch,  the  mountain -ashes  and  thorns,  the  alders  and  quiver- 
ing aspens,  which  chequered  and  varied  the  descent,  and  not 
less  with  the  dark  green  and  velvet  turf,  which  composed  the 
level  part  of  the  narrow  glen. 

Yet,  though  thus  embellished,  the  scene  could  neither  be 
strictly  termed  sublime  or  beautiful,  and  scarcely  even  pictur- 
esque or  striking.  But  its  extreme  solitude  pressed  on  the 
heart ;  the  traveller  felt  that  uncertainty  whither  he  was  going, 
or  in  what  so  wild  a  path  was  to  terminate,  which  at  times 
strikes  more  on  the  imagination  than  the  grand  features  of  a 
show-scene,  when  you  know  the  exact  distance  of  the  inn 
where  your  dinner  is  bespoke,  and  at  the  moment  preparing. 
These  are  ideas,  however,  of  a  far  later  age;  for  at  the  time 
we  treat  of,  the  picturesque,  the  beautiful,  the  sublime,  and 
all  their  intermediate  shades  were  ideas  absolutely  unknown 
to  the  inhabitants  and  occasional  visitors  of  Glendearg. 

These  had,  however,  attached  to  the  scene  feelings  fitting 
the  time.  Its  name,  signifying  the  Red  Valley,  seems  to 
have  been  derived  not  only  from  the  purple  colour  of  the 
heath,  with  which  the  upper  part  of  the  rising  banks  was 
profusely  clothed,  but  also  from  the  dark  red  colour  of  the 
rocks,  and  of  the  precipitous  earthen  banks,  which  in  that 
country  are  called  "scaurs."  Another  glen,  about  the  head 
of  Ettrick,  has  acquired  the  same  name  from  similar  circum- 
stances; and  there  are  probably  more  in  Scotland  to  which 
it  has  been  given. 

As  our  Glendearg  did  not  abound  in  mortal  visitants,  super- 
stition, that  it  might  not  be  absolutely  destitute  of  inhabi- 
tants, had  peopled  its  recesses  with  beings  belonging  to  an- 
other world.  The  savage  and  capricious  Brown  Man  of  the 
Moors,  a  being  which  seems  the  genuine  descendant  of  the 
Northern  dwarfs,  was  supposed  to  be  seen  there  frequently, 
especially  after  the  autumnal  equinox,  when  the  fogs  were 


THE  MONASTERY. 


67 


thick  and  objects  not  easily  distinguished.  The  Scottish 
fairies,  too,  a  whimsical,  irritable,  and  mischievous  tribe,  who, 
though  at  times  capriciously  benevolent,  were  more  frequent- 
ly adverse  to  mortals,  were  also  supposed  to  have  formed  a 
residence  in  a  particularly  wild  recess  of  the  glen,  of  which 
the  real  name  was,  in  allusion  to  that  circumstance,  Corrie- 
nan-Shian,  which,  in  corrupted  Celtic,  signifies  the  Hollow  of 
the  Fairies.  But  the  neighbours  were  more  cautious  in  speak- 
ing about  this  place,  and  avoided  giving  it  a  name,  from  an 
idea  common  then  throughout  all  the  British  and  Celtic  prov- 
inces of  Scotland,  and  still  retained  in  many  places,  that  to 
speak  either  good  or  ill  of  this  capricious  race  of  imaginary 
beings  is  to  provoke  their  resentment,  and  that  secrecy  and 
silence  is  what  they  chiefly  desire  from  those  who  may  intrude 
upon  their  revels  or  discover  their  haunts. 

A  mysterious  terror  was  thus  attached  to  the  dale,  which 
afforded  access  from  the  broad  valley  of  the  Tweed,  up  the 
little  glen  we  have  described,  to  the  fortalice  called  the  Tower 
of  Glendearg.  Beyond  the  knoll,  where,  as  we  have  said,  the 
tower  was  situated,  the  hills  grew  more  steep,  and  narrowed 
on  the  slender  brook,  so  as  scarce  to  leave  a  footpath;  and 
there  the  glen  terminated  in  a  wild  waterfall,  where  a  slender 
thread  of  water  dashed  in  a  precipitous  line  of  foam  over  two 
or  three  precipices.  Yet  farther  in  the  same  direction,  and 
above  these  successive  cataracts,  lay  a  wild  and  extensive 
morass,  frequented  only  by  water-fowl — wide,  waste,  appar- 
ently almost  interminable,  and  serving  in  a  great  measure  to 
separate  the  inhabitants  of  the  glen  from  those  who  lived  to 
the  northward. 

To  restless  and  indefatigable  moss-troopers,  indeed,  these 
morasses  were  well  known  and  sometimes  afforded  a  retreat. 
They  often  rode  down  the  glen,  called  at  this  tower,  asked  and 
received  hospitality,  but  still  with  a  sort  of  reserve  on  the 
part  of  its  more  peaceful  inhabitants,  who  entertained  them 
as  a  party  of  North  American  Indians  might  be  received  by  a 
new  European  settler,  as  much  out  of  fear  as  hospitality, 
while  the  uppermost  wish  of  the  landlord  is  the  speedy  de- 
parture of  the  savage  guests. 


68 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


This  had  not  always  been  the  current  of  feeling  in  the  little 
valley  and  its  tower.  Simon  Glendinning,  its  former  inhabi- 
tant, boasted  his  connexion  by  blood  to  that  ancient  family  of 
Glendonwyne,  on  the  western  border.  He  used  to  narrate  at 
his  fireside,  in  the  autumn  evenings,  the  feats  of  the  family 
to  which  he  belonged,  one  of  whom  fell  by  the  side  of  the 
brave  Earl  of  Douglas  at  Otterbourne.  On  these  occasions 
Simon  usually  held  upon  his  knee  an  ancient  broadsword, 
which  had  belonged  to  his  ancestors  before  any  of  the  family 
had  consented  to  accept  a  fief  under  the  peaceful  dominion  of 
the  monks  of  St.  Mary's.  In  modern  days^  Simon  might  have 
lived  at  ease  on  his  own  estate,  and  quietly  murmured  against 
the  fate  that  had  doomed  him  to  dwell  there,  and  cut  off  his 
access  to  martial  renown.  But  so  many  opportunities,  nay, 
so  many  calls,  there  were  for  him  who  in  those  days  spoke  big 
to  make  good  his  words  by  his  actions,  that  Simon  Glendin- 
ning  was  soon  under  the  necessity  of  marching  with  the  men 
of  the  halidome,  as  it  was  called,  of  St.  Mary's  in  that  disas- 
trous campaign  which  was  concluded  by  the  battle  of  Pinkie. 

The  Catholic  clergy  were  deeply  interested  in  that  national 
quarrel,  the  principal  object  of  which  was  to  prevent  the 
union  of  the  infant  Queen  Mary  with  the  son  of  the  heretical 
Henry  VIII.  The  monks  had  called  out  their  vassals,  under  an 
experienced  leader.  Many  of  themselves  had  taken  arms,  and 
marched  to  the  field,  under  a  banner  representing  a  female,  sup- 
posed to  personify  the  Scottish  Church,  kneeling  in  the  attitude 
of  prayer,  with  the  legend,  Afflictce  sponsce  ne  obliviscaris. 

The  Scots,  however,  in  all  their  wars,  had  more  occasion 
for  good  and  cautious  generals  than  for  excitation,  whether 
political  or  enthusiastic.  Their  headlong  and  impatient 
courage  uniformly  induced  them  to  rush  into  action  with- 
out duly  weighing  either  their  own  situation  or  that  of  their 
enemies,  and  the  inevitable  consequence  was  frequent  de- 
feat. With  the  dolorous  slaughter  of  Pinkie  we  have  noth- 
ing to  do,  excepting  that,  among  ten  thousand  men  of  low  and 
high  degree,  Simon  Glendinning,  of  the  Tower  of  Glendearg, 
bit  the  dust,  no  way  disparaging  in  his  death  that  ancient  race 
from  which  he  claimed  his  descent. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


69 


When  the  doleful  news,  which  spread  terror  and  mourning 
through  the  whole  of  Scotland,  reached  the  Tower  of  Glen- 
dearg,  the  widow  of  Simon,  Elspeth  Brydone  by  her  family 
name,  was  alone  in  that  desolate  habitation,  excepting  a  hind 
or  two,  alike  past  martial  and  agricultural  labour,  and  the 
helpless  widows  and  families  of  those  who  had  fallen  with 
their  master.  The  feeling  of  desolation  was  universal ;  but 
what  availed  it?  The  monks,  their  patrons  and  protectors, 
were  driven  from  their  abbey  by  the  English  forces,  who  now 
overran  the  country,  and  compelled  at  least  an  appearance  of 
submission  on  the  part  of  the  inhabitants.  The  Protector, 
Somerset,  formed  a  strong  camp  among  the  ruins  of  the  an- 
cient castle  of  Eoxburgh,  and  compelled  the  neighbouring 
country  to  come  in,  pay  tribute,  and  take  assurance  from  him, 
as  the  phrase  then  went.  Indeed,  there  was  no  power  of  re- 
sistance remaining;  and  the  few  barons,  whose  high  spirit 
disdained  even  the  appearance  of  surrender,  could  only  retreat 
into  the  wildest  fastnesses  of  the  country,  leaving  their  houses 
and  property  to  the  wrath  of  the  English,  who  detached  par- 
ties everywhere  to  distress,  by  military  exaction,  those  whose 
chiefs  had  not  made  their  submission.  The  abbot  and  his 
community  having  retreated  beyond  the  Forth,  their  lands 
were  severely  forayed,  as  their  sentiments  were  held  pecul- 
iarly inimical  to  the  alliance  with  England. 

Amongst  the  troops  detached  on  this  service  was  a  small 
party  commanded  by  Stawarth  Bolton,  a  captain  in  the  Eng- 
lish army,  and  full  of  the  blunt  and  unpretending  gallantry 
and  generosity  which  have  so  often  distinguished  that  nation. 
Resistance  was  in  vain.  Elspeth  Brydone,  when  she  descried 
a  dozen  of  horsemen  threading  their  way  up  the  glen,  with  a 
man  at  their  head  whose  scarlet  cloak,  bright  armour,  and 
dancing  plume  proclaimed  him  a  leader,  saw  no  better  protec- 
tion for  herself  than  to  issue  from  the  iron  gate,  covered  with 
a  long  mourning  veil,  and  holding  one  of  her  two  sons  in  each 
hand,  to  meet  the  Englishman,  state  her  deserted  condition, 
place  the  little  tower  at  his  command,  and  beg  for  his  mercy. 
She  stated,  in  a  few  brief  words,  her  intention,  and  added, 
"I  submit,  because  I  have  nae  means  of  resistance." 


70 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  And  I  do  not  ask  your  submission,  mistress,  for  the  same 
reason,"  replied  the  Englishman.  "To  be  satisfied  of  your 
peaceful  intentions  is  all  I  ask ;  and,  from  what  you  tell  me, 
there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  them." 

"At  least,  sir,"  said  Elspeth  Brydone,  "take  share  of  what 
our  spence  and  our  garners  afford.  Your  horses  are  tired ; 
your  folk  want  refreshment." 

"Not  a  whit — not  a  whit,"  answered  the  honest  English- 
man; "it  shall  never  be  said  we  disturbed  by  carousal  the 
widow  of  a  brave  soldier,  while  she  was  mourning  for  her 
husband.  Comrades,  face  about.  Yet  stay,"  he  added,  check- 
ing his  war-horse,  "my  parties  are  out  in  every  direction; 
they  must  have  some  token  that  your  family  are  under  my 
assurance  of  safety.  Here,  my  little  fellow, "  said  he,  speak- 
ing to  the  eldest  boy,  who  might  be  about  nine  or  ten  years 
old,  "lend  me  thy  bonnet." 

The  child  reddened,  looked  sulky,  and  hesitated,  while  the 
mother,  with  many  a  "  f ye"  and  "  nay  pshaw, "  and  such  sar- 
senet chidings  as  tender  mothers  give  to  spoiled  children,  at 
length  succeeded  in  snatching  the  bonnet  from  him,  and  hand- 
ing it  to  the  English  leader. 

Stawarth  Bolton  took  his  embroidered  red  cross  from  his 
barret-cap,  and  putting  it  into  the  loop  of  the  boy's  bonnet, 
said  to  the  mistress,  for  the  title  of  lady  was  not  given  to 
dames  of  her  degree,  "By  this  token,  which  all  my  people 
will  respect,  you  will  be  freed  from  any  importunity  on  the 
part  of  our  forayers."  1  He  placed  it  on  the  boy's  head;  but 
it  was  no  sooner  there  than  the  little  fellow,  his  veins  swell- 
ing and  his  eyes  shooting  fire  through  tears,  snatched  the  bon- 
net from  his  head,  and,  ere  his  mother  could  interfere,  skimmed 
it  into  the  brook.  The  other  boy  ran  instantly  to  fish  it  out 
again,  threw  it  back  to  his  brother,  first  taking  out  the  cross, 
which,  with  great  veneration,  he  kissed  and  put  into  his  bo- 
som. The  Englishman  was  half- diverted,  half-surprised  with 
the  scene. 

"  What  mean  ye  by  throwing  away  St.  George's  red  cross?" 
said  he  to  the  elder  boy,  in  a  tone  betwixt  jest  and  earnest. 
1  See  Gallantry,  Note  2. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


71 


"  Because  St.  George  is  a  Southern  saint, "  said  the  child, 
sulkily. 

u  Good !"  said  Stawarth  Bolton.  "  And  what  did  you  mean 
by  taking  it  out  of  the  brook  again,  my  little  fellow?"  he  de- 
manded of  the  younger. 

"  Because  the  priest  says  it  is  the  common  sign  of  salvation 
to  all  good  Christians." 

"  Why,  good  again !"  said  the  honest  soldier.  "  I  protest  unto 
you,  mistress,  I  envy  you  these  boys.    Are  they  both  yours?" 

Stawarth  Bolton  had  reason  to  put  the  question,  for  Hal- 
bert  Glendinning,  the  elder  of  the  two,  had  hair  as  dark  as 
the  raven's  plumage,  black  eyes,  large,  bold,  and  sparkling, 
that  glittered  under  eyebrows  of  the  same  complexion,  a  skin 
deep  embrowned,  though  it  could  not  be  termed  swarthy,  and 
an  air  of  activity,  frankness,  and  determination  far  beyond 
his  age.  On  the  other  hand,  Edward,  the  younger  brother, 
was  light-haired,  blue-eyed,  and  of  fair  complexion,  in  coun- 
tenance rather  pale,  and  not  exhibiting  that  rosy  hue  which 
colours  the  sanguine  cheek  of  robust  health.  Yet  the  boy  had 
nothing  sickly  or  ill-conditioned  in  his  look,  but  was,  on  the 
contrary,  a  fair  and  handsome  child,  with  a  smiling  face  and 
mild  yet  cheerful  eye. 

The  mother  glanced  a  proud  motherly  glance,  first  at  the 
one  and  then  at  the  other,  ere  she  answered  the  Englishman — 
"  Surely,  sir,  they  are  both  my  children." 

"And  by  the  same  father,  mistress?"  said  Stawarth;  but, 
seeing  a  blush  of  displeasure  arise  on  her  brow,  he  instantly 
added:  "Nay,  I  mean  no  offence;  I  would  have  asked  the 
same  question  at  any  of  my  gossips  in  merry  Lincoln.  Well, 
dame,  you  have  two  fair  boys ;  I  would  I  could  borrow  one, 
for  Dame  Bolton  and  I  live  childless  in  our  old  hall.  Come, 
little  fellows,  which  of  you  will  go  with  me?" 

The  trembling  mother,  half -fearing  as  he  spoke,  drew  the 
children  towards  her,  one  with  either  hand,  while  they  both 
answered  the  stranger.  "  I  will  not  go  with  you,"  said  Hal- 
bert,  boldly,  "for  you  are  a  false-hearted  Southern,  and  the 
Southerns  killed  my  father ;  and  I  will  war  on  you  to  the 
death,  when  I  can  draw  my  father's  sword." 


72 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  God-a-mercy,  my  little  levin-bolt,"  said  Stawarth,  "the 
goodly  custom  of  deadly  feud  will  never  go  down  in  thy  day, 
I  presume.  And  you,  my  line  white-head,  will  you  not  go 
with  me,  to  ride  a  cock-horse?" 

"No,"  said  Edward,  demurely,  "for  you  are  a  heretic." 

"  Why,  God-a-mercy  still!"  said  Stawarth  Bolton.  "Well, 
dame,  I  see  I  shall  find  no  recruits  for  my  troop  from  you; 
and  yet  I  do  envy  you  these  two  little  chubby  knaves."  He 
sighed  a  moment,  as  was  visible,  in  spite  of  gorget  and  cors- 
let, and  then  added,  "And  yet  my  dame  and  I  would  but 
quarrel  which  of  the  knaves  we  should  like  best;  for  J  should 
wish  for  the  black-eyed  rogue,  and  she,  I  warrant  me,  for  that 
blue-  eyed,  fair-haired  darling.  Natheless,  we  must  brook 
our  solitary  wedlock,  and  wish  joy  to  those  that  are  more 
fortunate.  Sergeant  Brittson,  do  thou  remain  here  till  re- 
called; protect  this  family,  as  under  assurance;  do  them  no 
wrong,  and  suffer  no  wrong  to  be  done  to  them,  as  thou 
wilt  answer  it.  Dame,  Brittson  is  a  married  man,  old  and 
steady ;  feed  him  on  what  you  will,  but  give  him  not  over 
much  liquor." 

Dame  Glendinning  again  offered  refreshments,  but  with  a 
faltering  voice,  and  an  obvious  desire  her  invitation  should 
not  be  accepted.  The  fact  was,  that,  supposing  her  boys  as 
precious  in  the  eyes  of  the  Englishman  as  in  her  own  (the 
most  ordinary  of  parental  errors),  she  was  half  afraid  that 
the  admiration  he  expressed  of  them  in  his  blunt  manner 
might  end  in  his  actually  carrying  off  one  or  other  of  the  little 
darlings  whom  he  appeared  to  covet  so  much.  She  kept  hold 
of  their  hands,  therefore,  as  if  her  feeble  strength  could  have 
been  of  service  had  any  violence  been  intended,  and  saw  with 
joy  she  could  not  disguise  the  little  party  of  horse  counter- 
march, in  order  to  descend  the  glen.  Her  feelings  did  not 
escape  Stawarth  Bolton.  "I  forgive  you,  dame,"  he  said, 
"for  being  suspicious  that  an  English  falcon  was  hovering 
over  your  Scottish  moor-brood.  But  fear  not— those  who 
have  fewest  children  have  fewest  cares ;  nor  does  a  wise  man 
covet  those  of  another  household.  Adieu,  dame;  when  the 
black-eyed  rogue  is  able  to  drive  a  foray  from  England,  teach 


THE  MONASTERY. 


73 


hini  to  spare  women  and  children,  even  for  the  sake  of  Sta- 
warth  Bolton." 

"God  be  with  you,  gallant  Southern!"  said  Elspeth  Glen- 
dinning,  but  not  till  he  was  out  of  hearing,  spurring  on  his 
good  horse  to  regain  the  head  of  his  party,  whose  plumage  and 
armour  were  now  glancing  and  gradually  disappearing  in  the 
distance,  as  they  winded  down  the  glen. 

"Mother,"  said  the  elder  boy,  "I  will  not  say  'amen'  to  a 
prayer  for  a  Southern." 

"  Mother, "  said  the  younger,  more  reverentially,  "  is  it 
right  to  pray  for  a  heretic?" 

"The  God  to  whom  I  pray  only  knows,"  answered  poor 
Elspeth;  "  but  these  two  words,  'Southern'  and  ' heretic,'  have 
already  cost  Scotland  ten  thousand  of  her  best  and  bravest, 
-and  me  a  husband  and  you  a  father ;  and,  whether  blessing 
or  banning,  I  never  wish  to  hear  them  more.  Follow  me  to 
the  place,  sir, "  she  said  to  Brittson,  "  and  such  as  we  have 
to  offer  you  shall  be  at  your  disposal." 


CHAPTER  III. 

They  lighted  down  on  Tweed  water, 

And  blew  their  coals  sae  het, 
And  fired  the  March  and  Teviotdale, 

All  in  an  evening  late. 

Auld  Maitland. 

The  report  soon  spread  through  the  patrimony  of  St. 
Mary's  and  its  vicinity  that  the  mistress  of  Glendearg  had 
received  assurance  from  the  English  captain,  and  that  her 
cattle  were  not  to  be  driven  off,  or  her  corn  burnt.  Among 
others  who  heard  this  report,  it  reached  the  ears  of  a  lady 
who,  once  much  higher  in  rank  than  Elspeth  Glendinning, 
was  now  by  the  same  calamity  reduced  to  even  greater  mis- 
fortune. 

She  was  the  widow  of  a  brave  soldier,  Walter  Avenel,  de- 
scended of  a  very  ancient  Border  family,  who  once  possessed 
immense  estates  in  Eskdale.    These  had  long  since  passed 


74 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


from  them  into  other  hands,  but  they  still  enjoyed  an  ancient 
barony  of  considerable  extent,  not  very  far  from  the  patri- 
mony of  St.  Mary's,  and  lying  upon  the  same  side  of  the 
river  with  the  narrow  vale  of  Glendearg,  at  the  head  of  which 
was  the  little  tower  of  the  Glendinnings.  Here  they  had 
lived,  bearing  a  respectable  rank  amongst  the  gentry  of  their 
province,  though  neither  wealthy  nor  powerful.  This  general 
regard  had  been  much  augmented  by  the  skill,  courage,  and 
enterprise  which  had  been  displayed  by  Walter  Avenel,  the 
last  baron. 

When  Scotland  began  to  recover  from  the  dreadful  shock 
she  had  sustained  after  the  battle  of  Pinkie  Cleuch,  Avenel 
was  one  of  the  first  who,  assembling  a  small  force,  set  an  ex- 
ample in  those  bloody  and  unsparing  skirmishes  which  showed 
that  a  nation,  though  conquered  and  overrun  by  invaders,  may 
yet  wage  against  them  such  a  war  of  detail  as  shall  in  the 
end  become  fatal  to  the  foreigners.  In  one  of  these,  how- 
ever, Walter  Avenel  fell,  and  the  news  which  came  to  the 
house  of  his  fathers  was  followed  by  the  distracting  intelli- 
gence that  a  party  of  Englishmen  were  coming  to  plunder  the 
mansion  and  lands  of  his  widow,  in  order,  by  this  act  of  ter- 
ror, to  prevent  others  from  following  the  example  of  the 
deceased. 

The  unfortunate  lady  had  no  better  refuge  than  the  miser- 
able cottage  of  a  shepherd  among  the  hills,  to  which  she  was 
hastily  removed,  scarce  conscious  where  or  for  what  purpose 
her  terrified  attendants  were  removing  her  and  her  infant 
daughter  from  her  own  house.  Here  she  was  tended  with 
all  the  duteous  service  of  ancient  times  by  the  shepherd's 
wife,  Tibb  Tacket,  who  in  better  days  had  been  her  own  bow- 
er-woman. For  a  time  the  lady  was  unconscious  of  her  mis- 
ery; but  when  the  first  stunning  effect  of  grief  was  so  far 
passed  away  that  she  could  form  an  estimate  of  her  own  situ- 
ation, the  widow  of  Avenel  had  cause  to  envy  the  lot  of  her 
husband  in  his  dark  and  silent  abode.  The  domestics  who 
had  guided  her  to  her  place  of  refuge  were  presently  obliged 
to  disperse  for  their  own  safety,  or  to  seek  for  necessary  sub- 
sistence ;  and  the  shepherd  and  his  wife,  whose  poor  cottage 


THE  MONASTERY. 


75 


she  shared,  were  soon  after  deprived  of  the  means  of  afford- 
ing their  late  mistress  even  that  coarse  sustenance  which  they 
had  gladly  shared  with  her.  Some  of  the  English  foray ers 
had  discovered  and  driven  off  the  few  sheep  which  had  es- 
caped the  first  researches  of  their  avarice.  Two  cows  shared 
the  fate  of  the  remnant  of  their  stock ;  they  had  afforded  the 
family  almost  their  sole  support,  and  now  famine  appeared  to 
stare  them  in  the  face. 

"  We  are  broken  and  beggared  now,  out  and  out, "  said  old 
Martin,  the  shepherd,  and  he  wrung  his  hands  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  agony ;  "  the  thieves — the  harrying  thieves !  not  a  cloot 
left  of  the  haill  hirsel!" 

"And  to  see  poor  Grizzy  and  Crummie,"  said  his  wife, 
"turning  back  their  necks  to  the  byre,  and  routing  while  the 
stony-hearted  villains  were  brogging  them  on  wi'  their 
lances!" 

"There  were  but  four  of  them,"  said  Martin,  "and  I  have 
seen  the  day  forty  wad  not  have  ventured  this  length.  But 
our  strength  and  manhood  is  gane  with  our  puir  maister!" 

"For  the  sake  of  the  holy  rood,  whisht,  man!"  said  the 
good  wife ;  "  our  leddy  is  half  gane  already,  as  ye  may  see 
by  that  fleightering  of  the  ee-lid — a  word  mair  and  she's  dead 
outright. " 

"  I  could  almost  wish,"  said  Martin,  "  we  were  a'  gane,  for 
what  to  do  passes  my  puir  wit.  I  care  little  for  mysell,  or 
you,  Tibb ;  we  can  make  a  fend — work  or  want — we  can  do 
baith,  but  she  can  do  neither." 

They  canvassed  their  situation  thus  openly  before  the  lady, 
convinced  by  the  paleness  of  her  look,  her  quivering  lip,  and 
dead-set  eye  that  she  neither  heard  nor  understood  what  they 
were  saying. 

"There  is  a  way,"  said  the  shepherd,  "but  I  kenna  if  she 
could  bring  her  heart  to  it:  there's  Simon  Glendinning's  wid- 
ow of  the  glen  yonder  has  had  assurance  from  the  Southern 
loons,  and  nae  soldier  to  steer  them  for  one  cause  or  other. 
Now,  if  the  leddy  could  bow  her  mind  to  take  quarters  with 
Elspeth  Glendinning  till  better  days  cast  up,  nae  doubt  it  wad 
be  doing  an  honour  to  the  like  of  her,  but  " 


76 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"An  honour!''  answered  Tibb;  "ay,  by  my  word,  sic  an 
honour  as  wad  be  pride  to  her  kin  mony  a  lang  year  after  her 
banes  were  in  the  mould.  Oh!  gudeman,  to  hear  ye  even 
the  Lady  of  Avenel  to  seeking  quarters  wi'  a  kirk- vassal's 
widow!" 

"  Loth  should  I  be  to  wish  her  to  it, "  said  Martin ;  "  but 
what  may  we  do?  To  stay  here  is  mere  starvation  ;  and  where 
to  go,  I'm  sure  I  ken  nae  mair  than  ony  tup  I  ever  herded." 

"  Speak  no  more  of  it, "  said  the  widow  of  Avenel,  suddenly 
joining  in  the  conversation,  "  I  will  go  to  the  tower.  Dame 
Elspeth  is  of  good  folk,  a  widow,  and  the  mother  of  orphans; 
she  will  give  us  house-room  until  something  be  thought  upon. 
These  evil  showers  make  the  low  bush  better  than  no  bield. " 

"See  there — see  there,"  said  Martin,  "you  see  the  leddy 
has  twice  our  sense." 

"And  natural  it  is,"  said  Tibb,  "  seeing  that  she  is  convent 
bred,  and  can  lay  silk  broidery,  forbye  white-seam  and  shell- 
work.  " 

"  Do  you  not  think, "  said  the  lady  to  Martin,  still  clasping 
her  child  to  her  bosom,  and  making  it  clear  from  what  mo- 
tives she  desired  the  refuge,  "  that  Dame  Glendinning  will 
make  us  welcome?" 

"  Blythely  welcome  — blythely  welcome,  my  leddy, "  an- 
swered Martin,  cheerily,  "and  we  shall  deserve  a  welcome 
at  her  hand.  Men  are  scarce  now,  my  leddy,  with  these 
wars ;  and  gie  me  a  thought  of  time  to  it,  I  can  do  as  gude 
a  day's  darg  as  ever  I  did  in  my  life,  and  Tibb  can  sort  cows 
with  ony  living  woman." 

"  And  muckle  mair  could  I  do, "  said  Tibb,  "  were  it  in  ony 
feasible  house ;  but  there  will  be  neither  pearlins  to  mend  nor 
pinners  to  busk  up  in  Elspeth  Glendinning's." 

"Whisht  wi'  your  pride,  woman,"  said  the  shepherd; 
"eneugh  ye  can  do,  baith  outside  and  inside,  an  ye  set  your 
mind  to  it;  and  hard  it  is  if  we  twa  canna  work  for  three 
folks'  meat,  forbye  my  dainty  wee  leddy  there.  Come  awa' 
— come  awa,'  nae  use  in  staying  here  langer;  we  have  five 
Scots  miles  over  moss  and  muir,  and  that  is  nae  easy  walk 
for  a  leddy  born  and  bred." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


77 


Household  stuff  there  was  little  or  none  to  remove  or  care 
for;  an  old  pony  which  had  escaped  the  plunderers,  owing 
partly  to  its  pitiful  appearance,  partly  for  the  reluctance 
which  it  showed  to  be  caught  by  strangers,  was  employed  to 
carry  the  few  blankets  and  other  trifles  which  they  possessed. 
When  Shagram  came  to  his  master's  well-known  whistle,  he 
was  surprised  to  find  the  poor  thing  had  been  wounded,  though 
slightly,  by  an  arrow,  which  one  of  the  forayers  had  shot  off 
in  anger  after  he  had  long  chased  it  in  vain. 

"  Ay,  Shagram, "  said  the  old  man,  as  he  applied  something 
to  the  wound,  "  must  you  rue  the  lang-bow  as  weel  as  all 
of  us?" 

"What  corner  in  Scotland  rues  it  not?"  said  the  Lady  of 
Avenel. 

"  Ay,  ay,  madam, 99  said  Martin,  "  God  keep  the  kindly  Scot 
from  the  cloth-yard  shaft,  and  he  will  keep  himself  from  the 
handy  stroke.  But  let  us  go  our  way ;  the  trash  that  is  left 
I  can  come  back  for.  There  is  nae  ane  to  stir  it  but  the 
good  neighbours,  and  they  99 

"  For  the  love  of  God,  goodman, "  said  his  wife,  in  a  remon- 
strating tone,  "haud  your  peace!  Think  what  ye're  saying, 
and  we  hae  sae  muckle  wild  land  to  go  over  before  we  win  to 
the  girth  gate." 

The  husband  nodded  acquiescence ;  for  it  was  deemed  highly 
imprudent  to  speak  of  the  fairies  either  by  their  title  of  good 
neighbours  1  or  by  any  other,  especially  when  about  to  pass  the 
places  which  they  were  supposed  to  haunt. 

They  set  forward  on  their  pilgrimage  on  the  last  day  of 
October.  "  This  is  thy  birthday,  my  sweet  Mary, "  said  the 
mother,  as  a  sting  of  bitter  recollection  crossed  her  mind. 
"  Oh,  who  could  have  believed  that  the  head  which,  a  few 
years  since,  was  cradled  amongst  so  many  rejoicing  friends, 
may  perhaps  this  night  seek  a  cover  in  vain!" 

The  exiled  family  then  set  forward — Mary  Avenel,  a  lovely 
girl  between  five  and  six  years  old,  riding  gipsy  fashion  upon 
Shagram,  betwixt  two  bundles  of  bedding;  the  Lady  of  Ave- 
nel walking  by  the  animal's  side;  Tibb  leading  the  bridle; 

i  See  Note  3. 


78 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  old  Martin  walking  a  little  before,  looking  anxiously 
around  him  to  explore  the  way. 

Martin's  task  as  guide,  after  two  or  three  miles'  walking, 
became  more  difficult  than  he  himself  had  expected,  or  than 
he  was  willing  to  avow.  It  happened  that  the  extensive 
range  of  pasturage  with  which  he  was  conversant  lay  to  the 
west,  and  to  get  into  the  little  valley  of  Glendearg  he  had  to 
proceed  easterly.  In  the  wilder  districts  of  Scotland,  the 
passage  fom  one  vale  to  another,  otherwise  than  by  descend- 
ing that  which  you  leave  and  reascending  the  other,  is  often 
very  difficult.  Heights  and  hollows,  mosses  and  rocks,  inter- 
vene, and  all  those  local  impediments  which  throw  a  traveller 
out  of  his  course.  So  that  Martin,  however  sure  of  his  gen- 
eral direction,  became  conscious,  and  at  length  was  forced  re- 
luctantly to  admit,  that  he  had  missed  the  direct  road  to  Glen- 
dearg, though  he  insisted  they  must  be  very  near  it.  "  If  we 
can  but  win  across  this  wide  bog, "  he  said,  "  I  shall  warrant 
we  are  on  the  top  of  the  tower. " 

But  to  get  across  the  bog  was  a  point  of  no  small  difficulty. 
The  farther  they  ventured  into  it,  though  proceeding  with  all 
the  caution  which  Martin's  experience  recommended,  the  more 
unsound  the  ground  became,  until,  after  they  had  passed  some 
places  of  great  peril,  their  best  argument  for  going  forward 
came  to  be  that  they  had  to  encounter  equal  danger  in  re- 
turning. 

The  Lady  of  Avenel  had  been  tenderly  nurtured,  but  what 
will  not  a  woman  endure  when  her  child  is  in  danger?  Com- 
plaining less  of  the  dangers  of  the  road  than  her  attendants, 
who  had  been  inured  to  such  from  their  infancy,  she  kept 
herself  close  by  the  side  of  the  pony,  watching  its  every  foot- 
step, and  ready,  if  it  should  flounder  in  the  morass,  to  snatch 
her  little  Mary  from  its  back. 

At  length  they  came  to  a  place  where  the  guide  greatly 
hesitated,  for  all  around  him  was  broken  lumps  of  heath,  di- 
vided from  each  other  by  deep  sloughs  of  black  tenacious 
mire.  After  great  consideration,  Martin,  selecting  what  he 
thought  the  safest  path,  began  himself  to  lead  forward  Sha- 
gram,  in  order  to  afford  greater  security  to  the  child.  But 


THE  MONASTERY. 


79 


Shagram  snorted,  laid  his  ears  back,  stretched  his  two  feet 
forward,  and  drew  his  hind  feet  nnder  him,  so  as  to  adopt 
the  best  possible  posture  for  obstinate  resistance,  and  refused 
to  move  one  yard  in  the  direction  indicated.  Old  Martin, 
much  puzzled,  now  hesitated  whether  to  exert  his  absolute 
authority,  or  to  defer  to  the  contumacious  obstinacy  of  Sha- 
gram, and  was  not  greatly  comforted  by  his  wife's  observation, 
who,  seeing  Shagram  stare  with  his  eyes,  distend  his  nostrils, 
and  tremble  with  terror,  hinted  that  "He  surely  saw  more 
than  they  could  see. " 

In  this  dilemma,  the  child  suddenly  exclaimed,  "Bonny 
leddy  signs  to  us  to  come  yon  gate."  They  all  looked  in  the 
direction  where  the  child  pointed,  but  saw  nothing,  save  a 
wreath  of  rising  mist,  which  fancy  might  form  into  a  human 
figure ;  but  which  afforded  to  Martin  only  the  sorrowful  con- 
viction that  the  danger  of  their  situation  was  about  to  be 
increased  by  a  heavy  fog.  He  once  more  essayed  to  lead 
forward  Shagram;  but  the  animal  was  inflexible  in  its  deter- 
mination not  to  move  in  the  direction  Martin  recommended. 
"  Take  your  awn  way  for  it,  then, "  said  Martin,  "  and  let  us 
see  what  you  can  do  for  us." 

Shagram,  abandoned  to  the  direction  of  his  own  free  will, 
set  off  boldly  in  the  direction  the  child  had  pointed.  There 
was  nothing  wonderful  in  this,  nor  in  its  bringing  them  safe 
to  the  other  side  of  the  dangerous  morass ;  for  the  instinct  of 
these  animals  in  traversing  bogs  is  one  of  the  most  curious 
parts  of  their  nature,  and  is  a  fact  generally  established.  But 
it  was  remarkable  that  the  child  more  than  once  mentioned 
the  beautiful  lady  and  her  signals,  and  that  Shagram  seemed 
to  be  in  the  secret,  always  moving  in  the  same  direction  which 
she  indicated.  The  Lady  of  Avenel  took  little  notice  at  the 
time,  her  mind  being  probably  occupied  by  the  instant  dan- 
ger ;  but  her  attendants  exchanged  expressive  looks  with  each 
other  more*  than  once. 

"All-Hallow  eve!"  said  Tibb,  in  a  whisper  to  Martin. 

"For  the  mercy  of  Our  Lady,  not  a  word  of  that  now!" 
said  Martin  in  reply.  "  Tell  your  beads,  woman,  if  you  can- 
not be  silent." 


80 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


When  they  got  once  more  on  firm  ground,  Martin  recognised 
certain  landmarks,  or  cairns,  on  the  tops  of  the  neighbouring 
hills,  by  which  he  was  enabled  to  guide  his  course,  and  ere 
long  they  arrived  at  the  Tower  of  Glendearg. 

It  was  at  the  sight  of  this  fortalice  that  the  misery  of  her 
lot  pressed  hard  on  the  poor  Lady  Avenel.  When  by  any 
accident  they  had  met  at  church,  market,  or  place  of  public 
resort,  she  remembered  the  distant  and  respectful  air  with 
which  the  wife  of  the  warlike  baron  was  addressed  by  the 
spouse  of  the  humble  feuar.  And  now,  so  much  was  her 
pride  humbled,  that  she  was  to  ask  to  share  the  precarious 
safety  of  the  same  feuar  ?s  widow,  and  her  pittance  of  food, 
which  might  perhaps  be  yet  more  precarious.  Martin  prob- 
ably guessed  what  was  passing  in  her  mind,  for  he  looked  at 
her  with  a  wistful  glance,  as  if  to  deprecate  any  change  of 
resolution ;  and  answering  to  his  looks  rather  than  his  words, 
she  said,  while  the  sparkle  of  subdued  pride  once  more  glanced 
from  her  eye,  "  If  it  were  for  myself  alone,  I  could  but  die ; 
but  for  this  infant,  the  last  pledge  of  Avenel  " 

"True,  my  lady,"  said  Martin,  hastily;  and,  as  if  to  pre- 
vent the  possibility  of  her  retracting,  he  added :  "  I  will  step 
on  and  see  Dame  Elspeth.  I  kenn'd  her  husband  weel,  and 
have  bought  and  sold  with  him,  for  as  great  a  man  as  he 
was." 

Martin's  tale  was  soon  told,  and  met  all  acceptance  from 
her  companion  in  misfortune.  The  Lady  of  Avenel  had  been 
meek  and  courteous  in  her  prosperity ;  in  adversity,  therefore, 
she  met  with  the  greater  sympathy.  Besides,  there  was  a 
point  of  pride  in  sheltering  and  supporting  a  woman  of  such 
superior  birth  and  rank ;  and,  not  to  do  Elspeth  Glendinning 
injustice,  she  felt  sympathy  for  a  woman  whose  fate  resembled 
her  own  in  so  many  points,  yet  was  so  much  more  severe. 
Every  species  of  hospitality  was  gladly  and  respectfully  ex- 
tended to  the  distressed  travellers,  and  they  were;  kindly  re- 
quested to  stay  as  long  at  Glendearg  as  their  circumstances 
rendered  necessary  ©r  their  inclination  prompted. 


■be  I  found  by  thee  unawed, 
Hat  thrice  hallow' d  eve  abroad, 
in  goblins  haunt  from  flood  and  fen, 
The  steps  of  men. 

Collin's  Ode  to  Fear. 


HE  MONASTERY. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


81 


As  the  country  became  more  settled,  the  Lady  of  Avenel 
would  have  willingly  returned  to  her  husband's  mansion. 
But  that  was  no  longer  in  her  power.  It  was  a  reign  of  mi- 
nority, when  the  strongest  had  the  best  right,  and  when  acts 
of  usurpation  were  frequent  amongst  those  who  had  much 
power  and  little  conscience. 

Julian  Avenel,  the  younger  brother  of  the  deceased  Walter, 
was  a  person  of  this  description.  He  hesitated  not  to  seize 
upon  his  brother's  house  and  lands  so  soon  as  the  retreat  of 
the  English  permitted  him.  At  first  he  occupied  the  property 
in  the  name  of  his  niece ;  but  when  the  lady  proposed  to  return 
with  her  child  to  the  mansion  of  its  fathers,  he  gave  her  to 
understand  that  Avenel,  being  a  male  fief,  descended  to  the 
brother,  instead  of  the  daughter,  of  the  last  possessor.  The 
ancient  philosopher  declined  a  dispute  with  the  emperor  who 
commanded  twenty  legions,  and  the  widow  of  Walter  Avenel 
was  in  no  condition  to  maintain  a  contest  with  the  leader  of 
twenty  moss-troopers.  Julian  was  also  a  man  of  service,  who 
could  back  a  friend  in  case  of  need,  and  was  sure,  therefore, 
to  find  protectors  among  the  ruling  powers.  In  short,  how- 
ever clear  the  little  Mary's  right  to  the  possessions  of  her 
father,  her  mother  saw  the  necessity  of  giving  way,  at  least 
for  the  time,  to  the  usurpation  of  her  uncle. 

Her  patience  and  forbearance  were  so  far  attended  with  ad- 
vantage, that  Julian,  for  very  shame's  sake,  could  no  longer 
suffer  her  to  be  absolutely  dependent  on  the  charity  of  Elspeth 
Glendinning.  A  drove  of  cattle  and  a  bull,  which  were  prob- 
ably missed  by  some  English  farmer,  were  driven  to  the  pas- 
tures of  Glendearg;  presents  of  raiment  and  household  stuff 
were  sent  liberally,  and  some  little  money,  though  with  a 


6 


82  WAVERLEY  NOVE 

more  sparing  hand;  for  those  in  the  sit] 
nel  could  come  more  easily  by  the  good  si 
medium  of  value,  and  made  their  paymf 

In  the  mean  time,  the  widows  of  WaM  ■ion 
Glendinning  had  become  habituated  to  ■  ^Fety, 
and  were  unwilling  to  part.  The  lady  more 
secret  and  secure  residence  than  in  the  Tower  of  Glendearg,  and 
she  was  now  in  a  condition  to  support  her  share  of  the  mutual 
housekeeping.  Elspeth,  on  the  other  hand,  felt  pride,  as  well 
as  pleasure,  in  the  society  of  a  guest  of  such  distinction,  and 
was  at  all  times  willing  to  pay  much  greater  deference  than 
the  Lady  of  Walter  Avenel  could  be  prevailed  on  to  accept. 

Martin  and  his  wife  diligently  served  the  united  family  in 
their  several  vocations,  and  yielded  obedience  to  both  mis- 
tresses, though  always  considering  themselves  as  the  especial 
servants  of  the  Lady  of  Avenel.  This  distinction  sometimes 
occasioned  a  slight  degree  of  difference  between  Dame  Elspeth 
and  Tibb;  the  former  being  jealous  of  her  own  consequence, 
and  the  latter  apt  to  lay  too  much  stress  upon  the  rank  and 
family  of  her  mistress.  But  both  were  alike  desirous  to  con- 
ceal such  petty  squabbles  from  the  lady,  her  hostess  scarce 
yielding  to  her  old  domestic  in  respect  for  her  person. 
Neither  did  the  difference  exist  in  such  a  degree  as  to  inter- 
rupt the  general  harmony  of  the  family,  for  the  one  wisely 
gave  way  as  she  saw  the  other  become  warm;  and  Tibb, 
though  she  often  gave  the  first  provocation,  had  generally  the 
sense  to  be  the  first  in  relinquishing  the  argument. 

The  world  which  lay  beyond  was  gradually  forgotten  by  the 
inhabitants  of  this  sequestered  glen,  and  unless  when  she  at- 
tended mass  at  the  monastery  church  upon  some  high  holiday, 
Alice  of  Avenel  almost  forgot  that  she  once  held  an  equal  rank 
with  the  proud  wives  of  the  neighbouring  barons  and  nobles 
who  on  such  occasions  crowded  to  the  solemnity.  The  recol- 
lection gave  her  little  pain.  She  loved  her  husband  for  him- 
self, and  in  his  inestimable  loss  all  lesser  subjects  of  regret 
had  ceased  to  interest  her.  At  times,  indeed,  she  thought  of 
claiming  the  protection  of  the  Queen  Eegent  (Mary  of  Guise) 
foi'  her  little  orphan,  but  the  fear  of  Julian  Avenel  always 


THE  MONASTERY. 


83 


came  between.  She  was  sensible  that  he  would  have  neither 
scruple  nor  difficulty  in  spiriting  away  the  child  (if  he  did  not 
proceed  farther),  should  he  once  consider  its  existence  as  for- 
midable to  his  interest.  Besides,  he  led  a  wild  and  unsettled 
life,  mingling  in  all  feuds  and  forays,  wherever  there  was  a 
spear  to  be  broken;  he  evinced  no  purpose  of  marrying,  and 
the  fate  which  he  continually  was  braving  might  at  length 
remove  him  from  his  usurped  inheritance.  Alice  of  Avenel, 
therefore,  judged  it  wise  to  check  all  ambitious  thoughts  for 
the  present,  and  remain  quiet  in  the  rude  but  peaceable  re- 
treat to  which  Providence  had  conducted  her. 

It  was  upon  an  All-Hallow?s  eve,  when  the  family  had  re- 
sided together  for  the  space  of  three  years,  that  the  domestic 
circle  was  assembled  round  the  blazing  turf -fire,  in  the  old 
narrow  hall  of  the  Tower  of  Glendearg.  The  idea  of  the 
master  or  mistress  of  the  mansion  feeding  or  living  apart 
from  their  domestics  was  at'  this  period  never  entertained. 
The  highest  end  of  the  board,  the  most  commodious  settle  by 
the  fire — these  were  the  only  marks  of  distinction;  and  the 
servants  mingled,  with  deference  indeed,  but  unreproved  and 
with  freedom,  in  whatever  conversation  was  going  forward. 
But  the  two  or  three  domestics,  kept  merely  for  agricultural 
purposes,  had  retired  to  their  own  cottages  without,  and  with 
them  a  couple  of  wenches,  usually  employed  within  doors,  the 
daughters  of  one  of  the  hinds. 

After  their  departure,  Martin  locked  first  the  iron  grate, 
and  secondly  the  inner  door,  of  the  tower,  when  the  domestic 
circle  was  thus  arranged.  Dame  Elspeth  sate  pulling  the 
thread  from  her  distaff;  Tibb  watched  the  progress  of  scald- 
ing the  whey,  which  hung  in  a  large  pot  upon  the  "  crook, "  a 
chain  terminated  by  a  hook,  which  was  suspended  in  the 
chimney  to  serve  the  purpose  of  the  modern  crane.  Martin, 
while  busied  in  repairing  some  of  the  household  articles — for 
every  man  in  those  days  was  his  own  carpenter  and  smith,  as 
well  as  his  own  tailor  and  shoemaker — kept  from  time  to  time 
a  watchful  eye  upon  the  three  children. 

They  were  allowed,  however,  to  exercise  their  juvenile  rest- 
lessness by  running  up  and  down  the  hall,  behind  the  seats  of 


84 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  elder  members  of  the  family,  with  the  privilege  of  occa- 
sionally making  excursions  into  one  or  two  small  apartments 
which  opened  from  it,  and  gave  excellent  opportunity  to  play 
at  hide-and-seek.  This  night,  however,  the  children  seemed 
not  disposed  to  avail  themselves  of  their  privilege  of  visiting 
these  dark  regions,  but  preferred  carrying  on  their  gambols  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  light. 

In  the  mean  while,  Alice  of  Avenel,  sitting  close  to  an  iron 
candlestick,  which  supported  a  misshapen  torch  of  domestic 
manufacture,  read  small  detached  passages  from  a  thick 
clasped  volume,  which  she  preserved  with  the  greatest  care. 
The  art  of  reading  the  lady  had  acquired  by  her  residence  in 
a  nunnery  during  her  youth,  but  she  seldom  of  late  years  put 
it  to  any  other  use  than  perusing  this  little  volume,  which 
formed  her  whole  library.  The  family  listened  to  the  por- 
tions which  she  selected,  as  to  some  good  thing  which  there 
was  a  merit  in  hearing  with  respect,  whether  it  was  fully  under- 
stood or  no.  To  her  daughter  Alice  of  Avenel  had  determined 
to  impart  their  mystery  more  fully,  but  the  knowledge  was  at 
that  period  attended  with  personal  danger,  and  was  not  rashly 
to  be  trusted  to  a  child. 

The  noise  of  the  romping  children  interrupted,  from  time 
to  time,  the  voice  of  the  lady,  and  drew  on  the  noisy  culprits 
the  rebuke  of  Elspeth. 

"  Could  they  not  go  farther  a-fleld,  if  they  behoved  to  make 
such  a  din,  and  disturb  the  lady's  good  words?"  And  this 
command  was  backed  with  the  threat  of  sending  the  whole 
party  to  bed  if  it  was  not  attended  to  punctually.  Acting 
under  the  injunction,  the  children  first  played  at  a  greater 
distance  from  the  party,  and  more  quietly,  and  then  began 
to  stray  into  the  adjacent  apartments,  as  they  became  impa- 
tient of  the  restraint  to  which  they  were  subjected.  But  all 
at  once  the  two  boys  came  open-mouthed  into  the  hall,  to  tell 
that  there  was  an  armed  man  in  the  spence. 

"It  must  be  Christie  of  Clinthill,"  said  Martin,  rising; 
"  what  can  have  brought  him  here  at  this  time?" 

"  Or  how  came  he  in?"  said  Elspeth. 

"Alas!  what  can  he  seek?"  said  the  Lady  of  Avenel,  to 


THE  MONASTERY. 


85 


whom  this  man,  a  retainer  of  her  husband's  brother,  and 
who  sometimes  executed  his  commissions  at  Glendearg,  was 
an  object  of  secret  apprehension  and  suspicion.  "  Gracious 
Heavens  !"  she  added,  rising  up,  "  where  is  my  child?"  All 
rushed  to  the  spence,  Halbert  Glendinning  first  arming  him- 
self with  a  rusty  sword,  and  the  younger  seizing  upon  the 
lady's  book.  They  hastened  to  the  spence,  and  were  relieved 
of  a  part  of  their  anxiety  by  meeting  Mary  at  the  door  of  the 
apartment.  She  did  not  seem  in  the  slightest  degree  alarmed 
or  disturbed.  They  rushed  into  the  spence,  a  sort  of  interior 
apartment  in  which  the  family  ate  their  victuals  in  the  sum- 
mer season;  but  there  was  no  one  there. 

"Where  is  Christie  of  Clinthill?"  said  Martin. 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  little  Mary;  "I  never  saw  him." 

"And  what  made  you,  ye  misleard  loons,"  said  Dame  El- 
speth  to  her  two  boys,  "  come  yon  gate  into  the  ha',  roaring 
like  bullseggs,  to  frighten  the  leddy,  and  her  far  frae  strong?" 
The  bo}'s  looked  at  each  other  in  silence  and  confusion,  and 
their  mother  proceeded  with  her  lecture.  "  Could  ye  find  nae 
night  for  damn  but  Hallowe'en,  and  nae  time  but  when  the 
leddy  was  reading  to  us  about  the  holy  saints?  May — ne'er 
be  in  my  fingers,  if  I  dinna  sort  ye  baith  for  it!"  The  eldest 
boy  bent  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  the  younger  began  to  weep, 
but  neither  spoke;  and  the  mother  would  have  proceeded  to 
extremities,  but  for  the  interposition  of  the  little  maiden. 

"  Dame  Elspeth,  it  was  my  fault ;  I  did  say  to  them  that  I 
saw  a  man  in  the  spence." 

"And  what  made  you  do  so,  child,"  said  her  mother,  "to 
startle  us  all  thus?" 

"Because,"  said  Mary,  lowering  her  voice,  "I  could  not 
help  it." 

"Not  help  it,  Mary! — you  occasioned  all  this  idle  noise,  and 
you  could  not  help  it?    How  mean  you  by  that,  minion?" 

"  There  really  was  an  armed  man  in  the  spence,"  said  Mary; 
"  and  because  I  was  surprised  to  see  him,  I  cried  out  to  Hal- 
bert and  Edward  " 

"  She  has  told  it  herself, "  said  Halbert  Glendinning,  "  or  it 
had  never  been  told  by  me. " 


86 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Nor  by  me  neither, "  said  Edward,  emulously. 

"  Mistress  Mary,"  said  Elspeth,  "  you  never  told  us  anything 
before  that  was  not  true;  tell  us  if  this  was  a  Hallowe'en  can- 
trip, and  make  an  end  of  it."  The  Lady  of  Avenel  looked  as 
if  she  would  have  interfered,  but  knew  not  how ;  and  Elspeth, 
who  was  too  eagerly  curious  to  regard  any  distant  hint,  perse- 
vered in  her  inquiries.  "  Was  it  Christie  of  the  Clinthill?  I 
would  not  for  a  mark  that  he  were  about  the  house,  and  a  body 
no  ken  whare." 

"  It  was  not  Christie, "  said  Mary ;  "  it  was — it  was  a  gentle- 
man— a  gentleman  with  a  bright  breastplate,  like  what  I  hae 
seen  langsyne,  when  we  dwelt  at  Avenel  " 

"What  like  was  he?"  continued  Tibb,  who  now  took  share 
in  the  investigation. 

"  Black -haired,  black-eyed,  with  a  peaked  black  beard,"  said 
the  child,  "  and  many  a  fold  of  pearling  round  his  neck,  and 
hanging  down  his  breast  ower  his  breastplate ;  and  he  had  a 
beautiful  hawk,  with  silver  bells,  standing  on  his  left  hand, 
with  a  crimson  silk  hood  upon  its  head  " 

"  Ask  her  no  more  questions,  for  the  love  of  God, "  said  the 
anxious  menial  to  Elspeth,  "  but  look  to  my  leddy !"  But  the 
Lady  of  Avenel,  taking  Mary  in  her  hand,  turned  hastily 
away,  and,  walking  into  the  hall,  gave  them  no  opportunity 
of  remarking  in  what  manner  she  received  the  child's  com- 
munication, which  she  thus  cut  short.  What  Tibb  thought 
of  it  appeared  from  her  crossing  herself  repeatedly,  and  whis- 
pering into  Elspeth' s  ear,  "St.  Mary  preserve  us!  the  lassie 
has  seen  her  father!" 

When  they  reached  the  hall,  they  found  the  lady  holding 
her  daughter  on  her  knee,  and  kissing  her  repeatedly.  When 
they  entered,  she  again  rose,  as  if  to  shun  observation,  and 
retired  to  the  little  apartment  where  her  child  and  she  occu- 
pied the  same  bed. 

The  boys  were  also  sent  to  their  cabin,  and  no  one  remained 
by  the  hall  fire  save  the  faithful  Tibb  and  Dame  Elspeth,  ex- 
cellent persons  both,  and  as  thorough  gossips  as  ever  wagged  a 
tongue. 

It  was  but  natural  that  they  should  instantly  resume  the 


THE  MONASTERY. 


87 


subject  of  the  supernatural  appearance,  for  such  they  deemed 
it,  which  had  this  night  alarmed  the  family. 

"  I  could  hae  wished  it  had  been  the  deil  himself — be  good 
to  and  preserve  us! — rather  than  Christie  o'  the  Clinthill, " 
said  the  matron  of  the  mansion,  "  for  the  word  runs  rife  in  the 
country  that  he  is  ane  of  the  maist  masterfu'  thieves  ever  lap 
on  horse." 

"  Hout  tout,  Dame  Elspeth, "  said  Tibb,  "  fear  ye  nae thing 
frae  Christie;  tods  keep  their  am  holes  clean.  You  kirk-folk 
make  sic  a  fasherie  about  men  shifting  a  wee  bit  for  their 
living!  Our  Border  lairds  would  ride  with  few  men  at  their 
back,  if  a'  the  light-handed  lads  were  out  o'  gate." 

"  Better  they  rade  wi'  nane  than  distress  the  country-side  the 
gate  they  do,"  said  Dame  Elspeth. 

"  But  wha  is  to  haud  back  the  Southron,  then, "  said  Tibb, 
"if  ye  take  away  the  lances  and  broadswords?  I  trow  we 
auld  wives  couldna  do  that  wi'  rock  and  wheel,  and  as  little 
the  monks  wi'  bell  and  book. " 

"And  sae  weel  as  the  lances  and  broadswords  hae  kept 
them  back,  I  trow !  I  was  mair  beholden  to  ae  Southron,  and 
that  was  Stawarth  Bolton,  than  to  a'  the  Border-riders  ever 
wore  St.  Andrew's  cross.  I  reckon  their  skelping  back  and 
forward,  and  lifting  honest  men's  gear,  has  been  a  main  cause 
of  a'  the  breach  between  us  and  England,  and  I  am  sure  that 
cost  me  a  kind  goodman.  They  spoke  about  the  wedding  of 
the  Prince  and  our  Queen,  but  it's  as  like  to  be  the  driving  of 
the  Cumberland  folks'  stocking  that  brought  them  down  on 
us  like  dragons." 

Tibb  would  not  have  failed  in  other  circumstances  to  answer 
what  she  thought  reflections  disparaging  to  her  country  folk ; 
but  she  recollected  that  Dame  Elspeth  was  mistress  of  the 
family,  curbed  her  own  zealous  patriotism,  and  hastened  to 
change  the  subject. 

"  And  is  it  not  strange, "  she  said,  "  that  the  heiress  of  Ave- 
nel  should  have  seen  her  father  this  blessed  night.  ?" 

"And  ye  think  it  was  her  father,  then?"  said  Elspeth 
Glendinning. 

"  What  else  can  I  think?"  said  Tibb. 


88 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"It  may  hae  been  something  waur,  in  his  likeness/'  said 
Dame  Glendinning. 

"  I  ken  naething  abont  that, "  said  Tibb ;  "  but  his  likeness 
it  was,  that  I  will  be  sworn  to,  just  as  he  used  to  ride  out 
a-hawking;  for  having  enemies  in  the  country,  he  seldom  ^id 
off  the  breastplate;  and  for  my  part,"  added  Tibb,  "I  dinna 
think  a  man  looks  like  a  man  unless  he  has  steel  on  his  breast 
and  by  his  side  too." 

"I  have  no  skill  of  your  harness  on  breast  or  side  either," 
said  Dame  Glendinning ;  "  but  I  ken  there  is  little  luck  in 
Hallowe'en  sights,  for  I  have  had  ane  my  sell." 

"Indeed,  Dame  Elspeth?"  said  old  Tibb,  edging  her  stool 
closer  to  the  huge  elbow-chair  occupied  by  her  friend,  "I 
should  like  to  hear  about  that." 

"  Ye  maun  ken  then,  Tibb, "  said  Dame  Glendinning,  "  that, 
when  I  was  a  hempie  of  nineteen  or  twenty,  it  wasna  my  fault 
if  I  wasna  at  a'  the  merry-makings  time  about. " 

"  That  was  very  natural, "  said  Tibb ;  "  but  ye  hae  sobered 
since  that,  or  ye  wadna  haud  our  braw  gallants  sae  lightly." 

"I  have  had  that  wad  sober  me  or  ony  ane,"  said  the  ma- 
tron. "  Aweel,  Tibb,  a  lass  like  me  wasna  to  lack  wooers,  for 
I  wasna  sae  ill-favoured  that  the  tykes  wad  bark  after  me." 

"How  should  that  be,"  said  Tibb,  "and  you  sic  a  weel- 
favoured  woman  to  this  day?" 

"  Fie,  fie,  cummer, "  said  the  matron  of  Glendearg,  hitching 
her  seat  of  honour,  in  her  turn,  a  little  nearer  to  the  cuttiestool 
no  which  Tibb  was  seated;  "  weel-favoured  is  past  my  time  of 
day ;  but  I  might  pass  then,  for  I  wasna  sae  tocherless  but 
what  I  had  a  bit  land  at  my  breast-lace.  My  father  was  por- 
tioner  of  Littledearg. " 

"Ye  hae  tell'd  me  that  before,"  said  Tibb;  "but  anent  the 
Hallowe'en?" 

"  Aweel — aweel,  I  had  mair  joes  than  ane,  but  I  favoured 
nane  o'  them;  and  sae,  at  Hallowe'en,  Father  Nicolas,  the 
cellarer — he  was  cellarer  before  this  father,  Father  Clement, 
that  now  is — was  cracking  his  nuts  and  drinking  his  brown 
beer  with  us,  and  as  blythe  as  might  be,  and  they  would  have 
me  try  a  cantrip  to  ken  wha  suld  wed  me ;  and  the  monk  said 


THE  MONASTERY. 


89 


there  was  nae  ill  in  it,  and  if  there  was,  he  would  assoil  me 
for  it.  And  wha  but  I  into  the  barn  to  winnow  my  three 
weights  o'  naething?  Sair,  sair  my  mind  misgave  me  for  fear 
of  wrang-doing  and  wrang-suff ering  baith ;  but  I  had  aye  a 
bauld  spirit.  I  had  not  winnowed  the  last  weight  clean  out, 
and  the  moon  was  shining  bright  upon  the  floor,  when  in 
stalked  the  presence  of  my  dear  Simon  Glendinning,  that  is 
now  happy.  I  never  saw  him  plainer  in  my  life  than  I  did 
that  moment;  he  held  up  an  arrow  as  he  passed  me,  and  I 
swarf 'd  awa'  wi'  fright.  Muckle  wark  there  was  to  bring  me 
to  mysell  again,  and  sair  they  tried  to  make  me  believe  it  was 
a  trick  of  Father  Nicolas  and  Simon  between  them,  and  that 
the  arrow  was  to  signify  Cupid's  shaft,  as  the  father  called 
it ;  and  mony  a  time  Simon  wad  threep  it  to  me  after  I  was 
married — gude  man,  he  liked  not  it  should  be  said  that  he 
was  seen  out  o'  the  body!  But  mark  the  end  o'  it,  Tibb:  we 
were  married,  and  the  grey-goose  wing  was  the  death  o'  him 
after  a' !" 

"  As  it  has  been  of  ower  mony  brave  men,"  said  Tibb;  "I 
wish  there  wasna  sic  a  bird  as  a  goose  in  the  wide  warld,  for- 
bye  the  decking  that  we  hae  at  the  burn-side." 

" But  tell  me,  Tibb,"  said  Dame  Glendinning,  "what  does 
your  leddy  aye  do  reading  out  o'  that  thick  black  book  wi' 
the  silver  clasps?  there  are  ower  mony  gude  words  in  it  to 
come  frae  ony  body  but  a  priest.  An  it  were  about  Robin 
Hood,  or  some  o'  David  Lindsay's  ballants,  ane  wad  ken  bet- 
ter what  to  say  to  it.  I  am  no  misdoubting  your  mistress 
nae  way,  but  I  wad  like  ill  to  hae  a  decent  house  haunted 
wi'  ghaists  and  gyre-carlines." 

"  Ye  hae  nae  reason  to  doubt  my  leddy,  or  ony  thing  she 
says  or  does,  Dame  Glendinning,"  said  the  faithful  Tibb, 
something  offended;  "and  touching  the  bairn,  it's  weel 
kenn'd  she  was  born  on  Hallowe'en  was  nine  years  gane,  and 
they  that  are  born  on  Hallowe'en  whiles  see  mair  than  ither 
folk." 

"  And  that  wad  be  the  cause,  then,  that  the  bairn  didna 
mak  muckle  din  about  what  it  saw?  If  it  had  been  my  Hal- 
bert  himself,  forbye  Edward,  who  is  of  softer  nature,  he  wad 


90 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


hae  yammered  the  haill  night  of  a  constancy.  But  it's  like 
Mistress  Mary  has  sic  sights  mair  natural  to  her." 

"That  may  weel  be/'  said  Tibb;  "for  on  Hallowe'en  she 
was  born,  as  I  tell  ye,  and  our  auld  parish  priest  wad  fain  hae 
had  the  night  ower,  and  All-Hallow  day  begun.  But  for  a; 
that  the  sweet  bairn  is  just  like  ither  bairns,  as  ye  may  see 
yoursell;  and  except  this  blessed  night,  and  ance  before  when 
we  were  in  that  weary  bog  on  the  road  here,  I  kenna  that  it 
saw  mair  than  ither  folk. " 

"  But  what  saw  she  in  the  bog,  then, "  said  Dame  Glendin- 
ning,  "forbye  moor-cocks  and  heather-blutters?" 

"  The  wean  saw  something  like  a  white  leddy  that  weised 
us  the  gate,"  said  Tibb,  "when  we  were  like  to  hae  perished 
in  the  moss-hags:  certain  it  was  that  Shagram  reisted,  and  I 
ken  Martin  thinks  he  saw  something." 

"And  what  might  the  white  leddy  be?"  said  Elspeth; 
"have  ye  ony  guess  o'  that?" 

"It's  weel  kenn'd  that,  Dame  Elspeth,"  said  Tibb;  "if  ye 
had  lived  under  grit  folk,  as  I  hae  dune,  ye  wadna  be  to  seek 
in  that  matter. " 

"  I  hae  aye  keepit  my  ain  ha'  house  abune  my  head, "  said 
Elspeth,  not  without  emphasis,  "and  if  I  havena  lived  wi' 
grit  folk,  grit  folk  have  lived  wi'  me. " 

"Weel — weel,  dame,"  said  Tibb,  "your  pardon's  prayed, 
there  was  nae  offence  meant.  But  ye  maun  ken  the  great 
ancient  families  canna  be  just  served  wi'  the  ordinary  saunts 
— praise  to  them ! — like  Saunt  Anthony,  Saunt  Cuthbert,  and 
the  like,  that  come  and  gang  at  every  sinner's  bidding,  but 
they  hae  a  sort  of  saunts  or  angels,  or  what  not,  to  them  sells ; 
and  as  for  the  White  Maiden  of  Avenel,  she  is  kenn'd  ower 
the  haill  country.  And  she  is  aye  seen  to  yammer  and  wail 
before  ony  o'  that  family  dies,  as  was  weel  kenn'd  by  twenty 
folk  before  the  death  of  Walter  Avenel,  haly  be  his  cast!" 

"  If  she  can  do  nae  mair  than  that,"  said  Elspeth,  somewhat 
scornfully,  "they  needna  make  mony  vows  to  her,  I  trow. 
Can  she  make  nae  better  fend  for  them  than  that,  and  has  nae- 
thing  better  to  do  than  wait  on  them?" 

"  Mony  braw  services  can  the  White  Maiden  do  for  them  to 


THE  MONASTERY. 


91 


the  boot  of  that,  and  has  dune  in  the  auld  histories,"  said 
Tibb ;  "  but  I  mind  o'  naething  in  my  day,  except  it  was  her 
that  the  bairn  saw  in  the  bog. " 

"  Aweel — aweel,  Tibb, "  said  Dame  Glendinning,  rising  and 
lighting  the  iron  lamp,  "these  are  great  privileges  of  your 
grand  folk.  But  Our  Lady  and  Saunt  Paul  are  good  eneugh 
saunts  for  me,  and  I'se  warrant  them  never  leave  me  in  a  bog 
that  they  can  help  me  out  a',  seeing  I  send  four  waxen  candles 
to  their  chapels  every  Candlemas ;  and  if  they  are  not  seen  to 
weep  at  my  death,  I'se  warrant  them  smile  at  my  joyful  ris- 
ing again,  whilk  Heaven  send  to  all  of  us,  Amen." 

"Amen,"  answered  Tibb,  devoutly;  "and  now  it's  time  I 
should  hap  up  the  wee  bit  gathering  turf,  as  the  fire  is  ower 
low." 

Busily  she  set  herself  to  perform  this  duty.  The  relic  of 
Simon  Glendinning  did  but  pause  a  moment  to  cast  a  heedful 
and  cautious  glance  all  around  the  hall,  to  see  that  nothing 
was  out  of  its  proper  place;  then,  wishing  Tibb  good-night, 
she  retired  to  repose. 

"The  deil's  in  the  carline,"  said  Tibb  to  herself;  "because 
she  was  the  wife  of  a  cock-laird,  she  thinks  herself  grander, 
I  trow,  than  the  bower- woman  of  a  lady  of  that  ilk!"  Hav- 
ing given  vent  to  her  suppressed  spleen  in  this  little  ejacula- 
tion, Tibb  also  betook  herself  to  slumber. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  priest,  ye  cry,  a  priest ! — lame  shepherds  they, 
How  shall  they  gather  in  the  straggling  flock  ? 
Dumb  dogs  which  bark  not — how  shall  they  compel 
The  loitering  vagrants  to  the  Master's  fold  ? 
Fitter  to  bask  before  the  blazing  fire, 
And  snuff  the  mess  neat-handed  Phillis  dresses, 
Than  on  the  snow-wreath  battle  with  the  wolf. 

The  Reformation. 

The  health  of  the  Lady  of  Avenel  had  been  gradually  de- 
caying ever  since  her  disaster.  It  seemed  as  if  the  few  years 
which  followed  her  husband's  death  had  done  on  her  the  work 


92 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  half  a  century.  She  lost  the  fresh  elasticity  of  form,  the 
colour  and  the  mien  of  health,  and  became  wasted,  wan,  and 
feeble.  She  appeared  to  have  no  formed  complaint;  yet  it 
was  evident  to  those  who  looked  on  her  that  her  strength 
waned  daily.  Her  lips  at  length  became  blenched  and  her 
eye  dim ;  yet  she  spoke  not  of  any  desire  to  see  a  priest,  until 
Elspeth  Glendinning  in  her  zeal  could  not  refrain  from  touch- 
ing upon  a  point  which  she  deemed  essential  to  salvation. 
Alice  of  Avenel  received  her  hint  kindly,  and  thanked  her 
for  it. 

"  If  any  good  priest  would  take  the  trouble  of  such  a  jour- 
ney/' she  said,  "he  should  be  welcome;  for  the  prayers  and 
lessons  of  the  good  must  be  at  all  times  advantageous." 

This  quiet  acquiescence  was  not  quite  what  Elspeth  Glen- 
dinning wished  or  expected.  She  made  up,  however,  by  her 
own  enthusiasm,  for  the  lady's  want  of  eagerness  to  avail  her- 
self of  ghostly  counsel,  and  Martin  was  despatched  with  such 
haste  as  Shagram  would  make,  to  pray  one  of  the  religious 
men  of  St.  Mary's  to  come  up  to  administer  the  last  consola- 
tions to  the  widow  of  Walter  de  Avenel. 

When  the  sacristan  had  announced  to  the  lord  abbot  that  the 
lady  of  the  umquhile  Walter  de  Avenel  was  in  very  weak 
health  in  the  Tower  of  Glendearg,  and  desired  the  assistance 
of  a  father  confessor,  the  lordly  monk  paused  on  the  request. 

"  We  do  remember  Walter  de  Avenel, "  he  said — "  a  good 
knight  and  a  valiant ;  he  was  dispossessed  of  his  lands,  and 
slain  by  the  Southron.  May  not  the  lady  come  hither  to  the 
sacrament  of  confession?  The  road  is  distant,  and  painful  to 
travel." 

"The  lady  is  unwell,  holy  father,"  answered  the  sacristan, 
"  and  unable  to  bear  the  journey." 

"  True — ay — yes — then  must  one  of  our  brethren  go  to  her. 
Knowest  thou  if  she  hath  aught  of  a  jointure  from  this  Wal- 
ter de  Avenel." 

"  Very  little,  holy  father, "  said  the  sacristan ;  "  she  hath 
resided  at  Glendearg  since  her  husband's  death,  wellnigh  on 
the  charity  of  a  poor  widow,  called  Elspeth  Glendinning." 

"Why,  thou  knowest  all  the  widows  in  the  country-side?" 


THE  MONASTERY. 


93 


said  the  abbot.  "  Ho !  ho !  ho !"  and  he  shook  his  portly  sides 
at  his  own  jest. 

"Ho!  ho!  ho!"  echoed  the  sacristan,  in  the  tone  and  tune 
in  which  an  inferior  applauds  the  jest  of  his  superior;  then 
■-  added,  with  a  hypocritical  snuffle  and  a  sly  twinkle  of  his  eye, 
"  It  is  our  duty,  most  holy  father,  to  comfort  the  widow.  He! 
he!  he!  he!" 

This  last  laugh  was  more  moderate,  until  the  abbot  should 
put  his  sanction  on  the  jest. 

"Ho!  ho!"  said  the  abbot;  "then,  to  leave  jesting,  Father 
Philip,  take  thou  thy  riding-gear,  and  go  to  confess  this  Dame 
Avenel. " 

"But,"  said  the  sacristan  

"Give  me  no  'buts?;  neither  'but?  nor  /if  pass  between 
monk  and  abbot,  Father  Philip ;  the  bands  of  discipline  must 
not  be  relaxed ;  heresy  gathers  force  like  a  snowball ;  the  mul- 
titude expect  confessions  and  preachings  from  the  Benedictine 
as  they  would  from  so  many  beggarly  friars,  and  we  may  not 
desert  the  vineyard,  though  the  toil  be  grievous  unto  us." 

"  And  with  so  little  advantage  to  the  holy  monastery, "  said 
the  sacristan. 

"  True,  Father  Philip ;  but  wot  you  not  that  what  pr event- 
en  th  harm  doeth  good?  This  Julian  de  Avenel  lives  a  light 
and  evil  life,  and  should  we  neglect  the  widow  of  his  brother, 
he  might  foray  our  lands,  and  we  never  able  to  show  who 
hurt  us;  moreover,  it  is  our  duty  to  an  ancient  family,  who, 
in  their  day,  have  been  benefactors  to  the  abbey.  Away  with 
thee  instantly,  brother;  ride  night  and  day,  an  it  be  neces- 
sary, and  let  men  see  how  diligent  Abbot  Boniface  and  his 
faithful  children  are  in  the  execution  of  their  spiritual  duty ; 
toil  not  deterring  them,  for  the  glen  is  five  miles  in  length; 
fear  not  withholding  them,  for  it  is  said  to  be  haunted  of 
spectres;  nothing  moving  them  from  pursuit  of  their  spiritual 
calling,  to  the  confusion  of  calumnious  heretics,  and  the  com- 
fort and  edification  of  all  true  and  faithful  sons  of  the  Catholic 
Church.    I  wonder  what  our  brother  Eustace  will  say  to  this?" 

Breathless  with  his  own  picture  of  the  dangers  and  toil 
which  he  was  to  encounter,  and  the  fame  which  he  was  to  ac- 


94 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


quire  (both  by  proxy),  the  abbot  moved  slowly  to  finish  his^ 
luncheon  in  the  refectory;  and  the  sacristan,  with  no  very 
good  will,  accompanied  Old  Martin  in  his  return  to  Glendearg ; 
the  greatest  impediment  in  the  journey  being  the  trouble  of . 
restraining  his  pampered  mule,  that  she  might  tread  in  some-r 
thing  like  an  equal  pace  with  poor  Shagram.  1 

After  remaining  an  hour  in  private  with  his  penitent, 
monk  returned,  moody  and  full  of  thought.  Dame  Elspeth, 
who  had  placed  for  the  honoured  guest  some  refreshment  in 
the  hall,  was  struck  with  the  embarrassment  which  appeared 
in  his  countenance.  Elspeth  watched  him  with  great  anxiety. 
She  observed  there  was  that  on  his  brow  which  rather  resem- 
bled a  person  come  from  hearing  a  confession  of  some  enor- 
mous crime  than  the  look  of  a  confessor  who  resigns  a 
reconciled  penitent,  not  to  earth,  but  to  Heaven.  After  long 
hesitating,  she  could  not  at  length  refrain  from  hazarding  a 
question.  "  She  was  sure,"  she  said,  "the  leddy  had  made 
an  easy  shrift.  Five  years  had  they  resided  together,  and  she 
could  safely  say  no  woman  lived  better." 

"Woman,"  said  the  sacristan,  sternly,  "thou  speakest  thou 
knowest  not  what.  What  avails  clearing  the  outside  of  the 
platter,  if  the  inside  be  foul  with  heresy?" 

"Our  dishes  and  trenchers  are  not  so  clean  as  they  could  be 
wished,  holy  father,"  said  Elspeth,  but  half  understanding 
what  he  i  aid,  and  beginning  with  her  apron  to  wipe  the  dust 
from  the  plates,  of  which  she  supposed  him  to  complain. 

"  Forbear,  Dame  Elspeth, "  said  the  monk ;  "  your  plates  are 
as  clean  as  wooden  trenchers  and  pewter  flagons  can  well  be; 
the  foulness  of  which  I  speak  is  that  of  pestilential  heresy, 
which  is  daily  becoming  ingrained  in  this  our  Holy  Church  of 
Scotland,  and  as  a  canker-worm  in  the  rose-garland  of  the 
Spouse. " 

"Holy  Mother  of  Heaven!"  said  Dame  Elspeth,  crossing 
herself,  "have  I  kept  house  with  a  heretic?" 

"No,  Elspeth — no,"  replied  the  monk;  "it  were  too  strong 
a  speech  for  me  to  make  of  this  unhappy  lady,  but  I  would  I 
could  say  she  is  free  from  heretical  opinions.  Alas!  they  fly 
about  like  the  pestilence  by  noonday,  and  infect  even  the  first 


THE  MONASTERY. 


95 


and  fairest  of  the  flock!  For  it  is  easy  to  see  of  this  dame 
that  she  hath  been  high  in  judgment  as  in  rank." 

"  And  she  can  write  and  read,  I  had  almost  said  as  weel  as 
your  reverence, "  said  Elspeth. 

"  Whom  doth  she  write  to,  and  what  doth  she  read?"  said 
the  monk,  eagerly. 

"  Nay, "  replied  Elspeth,  "  I  cannot  say  I  ever  saw  her  write 
at  all,  but  her  maiden  that  was — she  now  serves  the  family — 
says  she  can  write.  And  for  reading,  she  has  often  read  to 
us  good  things  out  of  a  thick  black  volume  with  silver 
clasps." 

"Let  me  see  it,"  said  the  monk,  hastily — "on  your  alle- 
giance as  a  true  vassal — on  your  faith  as  a  Catholic  Christian 
— instantly — instantly,  let  me  see  it!" 

The  good  woman  hesitated,  alarmed  at  the  tone  in  which 
the  confessor  took  up  her  information;  and  being,  moreover, 
of  opinion  that  what  so  good  a  woman  as  the  Lady  of  Avenel 
studied  so  devoutly  could  not  be  of  a  tendency  actually  evil. 
But,  borne  down  by  the  clamour,  exclamations,  and  something 
like  threats,  used  by  Father  Philip,  she  at  length  brought  him 
the  fatal  volume.  It  was  easy  to  do  this  without  suspicion 
on  the  part  of  the  owner,  as  she  lay  on  her  bed  exhausted  with 
the  fatigue  of  a  long  conference  with  her  confessor,  and  as  the 
small  "  round,"  or  turret  closet,  in  which  was  the  book  and  her 
other  trifling  property,  was  accessible  by  another  door.  Of 
all  her  effects,  the  book  was  the  last  she  would  have  thought 
of  securing,  for  of  what  use  or  interest  could  it  be  in  a  family 
who  neither  read  themselves  nor  were  in  the  habit  of  seeing 
any  who  did?  So  that  Dame  Elspeth  had  no  difficulty  in  pos- 
sessing herself  of  the  volume,  although  her  heart  all  the  while 
accused  her  of  an  ungenerous  and  an  inhospitable  part  towards 
her  friend  and  inmate.  The  double  power  of  a  landlord  and 
a  feudal  superior  was  before  her  eyes ;  and,  to  say  truth,  the 
boldness  with  which  she  might  otherwise  have  resisted  this 
double  authority  was,  I  grieve  to  say  it,  much  qualified  by  the 
curiosity  she  entertained,  as  a  daughter  of  Eve,  to  have  some 
explanation  respecting  the  mysterious  volume  which  the  lady 
cherished  with  so  much  care,  yet  whose  contents  she  imparted 


96 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


with  such  caution.  For  never  had  Alice  of  Avenel  read  them 
any  passage  from  the  book  in  question  until  the  iron  door  of 
the  tower  was  locked,  and  all  possibility  of  intrusion  pre- 
vented. Even  then  she  had  shown,  by  the  selection  of  par- 
ticular passages,  that  she  was  more  anxious  to  impress  on 
their  minds  the  principles  which  the  volume  contained  than 
to  introduce  them  to  it  as  a  new  rule  of  faith. 

When  Elspeth,  half -curious,  half-remorseful,  had  placed  the 
book  in  the  monk's  hands,  he  exclaimed,  after  turning  over  the 
leaves,  "  Now,  by  mine  order,  it  is  as  I  suspected !  My  mule — 
my  mule!  I  will  abide  no  longer  here.  Well  hast  thou  done, 
dame,  in  placing  in  n  y  hands  this  perilous  volume." 

"Is  it  then  witchcraft  or  devil's  work?"  said  Dame  Els- 
peth, in  great  agitation. 

"Nay,  God  forbid,"  said  the  monk,  signing  himself  with 
the  cross,  "  it  is  the  Holy  Scripture.  But  it  is  rendered  into 
the  vulgar  tongue,  and  therefore,  by  the  order  of  the  Holy 
Catholic  Church,  unfit  to  be  in  the  hands  of  any  lay  per- 
son." 

"  And  yet  is  the  Holy  Scripture  communicated  for  our  com- 
mon salvation,"  said  Elspeth.  "Good  father,  you  must  in- 
struct mine  ignorance  better;  but  lack  of  wit  cannot  be  a 
deadly  sin,  and  truly,  to  my  poor  thinking,  I  should  be  glad 
to  read  the  Holy  Scripture." 

"I  dare  say  thou  wouldst,"  said  the  monk;  "and  even  thus 
did  our  mother  Eve  seek  to  have  knowledge  of  good  and  evil, 
and  thus  sin  came  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin." 

"I  am  sure,  and  that's  true!"  said  Elspeth.  "Oh,  if  she 
had  dealt  by  the  counsel  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul!" 

"  If  she  had  reverenced  the  command  of  Pleaven, "  said  the 
monk,  "  which,  as  it  gave  her  birth,  life,  and  happiness,  fixed 
upon  the  grant  such  conditions  as  best  corresponded  with 
its  holy  pleasure.  I  tell  thee,  Elspeth,  the  Word  slayeth  : 
that  is,  the  text  alone,  read  with  unskilled  eye  and  unhallowed 
lips,  is  like  those  strong  medicines  which  sick  men  take  by 
the  advice  of  the  learned.  Such  patients  recover  and  thrive; 
while  those  dealing  in  them  at  their  own  hand  shall  perish  by 
their  own  deed." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


97 


"  Nae  doubt — nae  doubt, "  said  the  poor  woman,  "  your  rev- 
erence knows  best." 

"  Not  1, 99  said  Father  Philip,  in  a  tone  as  deferential  as  he 
thought  could  possibly  become  the  sacristan  of  St.  Mary's — 
"not  I,  but  the  Holy  Father  of  Christendom,  and  our  own 
holy  father  the  lord  abbot,  know  best.  I,  the  poor  sacristan 
of  St.  Mary's,  can  but  repeat  what  I  hear  from  others  my 
superiors.  Yet  of  this,  good  woman,  be  assured — the  Word — 
the  mere  Word,  slayeth.  But  the  church  hath  her  ministers 
to  gloze  and  to  expound  the  same  unto  her  faithful  congrega- 
tion ;  and  this  I  say  not  so  much,  my  beloved  brethren —  I 
mean,  my  beloved  sister  (for  the  sacristan  had  got  into  the 
end  of  one  of  his  old  sermons) — this  I  speak  not  so  much  of 
the  rectors,  curates,  and  secular  clergy,  so  called  because  they 
live  after  the  fashion  of  the  seculum  or  age,  unbound  by  those 
ties  which  sequestrate  us  from  the  world ;  neither  do  I  speak 
this  of  the  mendicant  friars,  whether  black  or  grey,  whether 
crossed  or  uncrossed ;  but  of  the  monks,  and  especially  of  the 
monks  Benedictine,  reformed  on  the  rule  of  St.  Bernard  of 
Clairvaux,  thence  called  Cistercian,  of  which  monks,  Christian 
brethren — sister,  I  would  say — great  is  the  happiness  and  glory 
of  the  country  in  possessing  the  holy  ministers  of  St.  Mary's, 
whereof  I,  though  an  unworthy  brother,  may  say  it  hath  pro- 
duced more  saints,  more  bishops,  more  popes — may  our  patrons 
make  us  thankful! — than  any  holy  foundation  in  Scotland. 

Wherefore  But  I  see  Martin  hath  my  mule  in  readiness, 

and  I  will  but  salute  you  with  the  kiss  of  sisterhood,  which 
maketh  not  ashamed,  and  so  betake  me  to  my  toilsome  return, 
for  the  glen  is  of  bad  reputation  for  the  evil  spirits  whi  -h 
haunt  it.  Moreover,  I  may  arrive  too  late  at  the  bridge, 
whereby  I  may  be  obliged  to  take  the  river,  which  I  observed 
to  be  somewhat  waxen." 

Accordingly,  he  took  his  leave  of  Dame  Elspeth,  who  was 
confounded  by  the  rapidity  of  his  assurance,  and  the  doctrine 
he  gave  forth,  and  by  no  means  easy  on  the  subject  of  the 
book,  which  her  conscience  told  her  she  should  not  have  com- 
municated to  any  one  without  the  knowledge  of  its  owner. 

Notwithstanding  the  haste  which  the  monk  as  well  as  his 
7 


98 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


mule  made  to  return  to  better  quarters  than  they  had  left  at 
the  head  of  Glendearg;  notwithstanding  the  eager  desire 
Father  Philip  had  to  be  the  very  first  who  should  acquaint 
the  abbot  that  a  copy  of  the  book  they  most  dreaded  had  been 
found  within  the  halidome,  or  patrimony,  of  the  abbey;  not- 
withstanding, moreover,  certain  feelings  which  induced  him  to 
hurry  as  fast  as  possible  through  the  gloomy  and  evil-reputed 
glen,  still  the  difficulties  of  the  road,  and  the  rider's  want  of 
habitude  of  quick  motion,  were  such  that  twilight  came  upon 
him  ere  he  had  nearly  cleared  the  narrow  valley. 

It  was  indeed  a  gloomy  ride.  The  two  sides  of  the  valley 
were  so  near  that  at  every  double  of  the  river  the  shadows 
from  the  western  sky  fell  upon,  and  totally  obscured,  the  east- 
ern bank ;  the  thickets  of  copsewood  seemed  to  wave  with  a 
portentous  agitation  of  boughs  and  leaves,  and  the  very  crags 
and  scaurs  seemed  higher  and  grimmer  than  they  had  appeared 
to  the  monk  while  he  was  travelling  in  daylight  and  in  com- 
pany. Father  Philip  was  heartily  rejoiced  when,  emerging 
from  the  narrow  glen,  he  gained  the  open  valley  of  the  Tweed, 
which  held  on  its  majestic  course  from  current  to  pool,  and 
from  pool  stretched  away  to  other  currents,  with  a  dignity 
peculiar  to  itself  amongst  the  Scottish  rivers;  for,  what- 
ever may  have  been  the  drought  of  the  season,  the  Tweed 
usually  fills  up  the  space  between  its  banks,  seldom  leaving 
those  extensive  sheets  of  shingle  which  deform  the  margins 
of  many  of  the  celebrated  Scottish  streams. 

The  monk,  insensible  to  beauties  which  the  age  had  not  re- 
garded as  deserving  of  notice,  was,  nevertheless,  like  a  pru- 
dent general,  pleased  to  find  himself  out  of  the  narrow  glen  in 
which  the  enemy  might  have  stolen  upon  him  unperceived. 
He  drew  up  his  bridle,  reduced  his  mule  to  her  natural  and 
luxurious  amble,  instead  of  the  agitating  and  broken  trot  at 
which,  to  his  no  small  inconvenience,  she  had  hitherto  pro- 
ceeded, and,  wiping  his  brow,  gazed  forth  at  leisure  on  the 
broad  moon,  which,  now  mingling  with  the  lights  of  evening, 
was  rising  over  field  and  forest,  village  and  fortalice,  and, 
above  all,  over  the  stately  monastery,  seen  far  and  dim  amid 
the  yellow  light. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


99 


The  worst  part  of  this  magnificent  view,  in  the  monk's  ap- 
prehension, was  that  the  monastery  stood  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  river,  and  that,  of  the  many  fine  bridges  which  have 
since  been  built  across  that  classical  stream,  not  one  then  ex- 
isted. There  was,  however,  in  recompense,  a  bridge  then 
standing  which  has  since  disappeared,  although  its  ruins  may 
be  still  traced  by  the  curious. 

It  was  of  a  very  peculiar  form.  Two  strong  abutments 
were  built  on  either  side  of  the  river,  at  a  part  where  the 
stream  was  peculiarly  contracted.  Upon  a  rock  in  the  centre 
of  the  current  was  built  a  solid  piece  of  masonry,  constructed 
like  the  pier  of  a  bridge,  and  presenting,  like  a  pier,  an  angle 
to  the  current  of  the  stream.  The  masonry  continued  solid 
until  the  pier  rose  to  a  level  with  the  two  abutments  upon 
either  side,  and  from  thence  the  building  rose  in  the  form  of 
a  tower.  The  lower  story  of  this  tower  consisted  only  of  an 
archway  or  passage  through  the  building,  over  either  entrance 
to  which  hung  a  drawbridge  with  counterpoises,  either  of 
which,  when  dropped,  connected  the  archway  with  the  oppo- 
site abutment,  where  the  further  end  of  the  drawbridge  rested. 
When  both  bridges  were  thus  lowered,  the  passage  over  the 
river  was  complete. 

The  bridge-keeper,  who  was  the  dependant  of  a  neighbour- 
ing baron,  resided  with  his  family  in  the  second  and  third 
stories  of  the  tower,  which,  when  both  drawbridges  were 
raised,  formed  an  insulated  fortalice  in  the  midst  of  the  river. 
He  was  entitled  to  a  small  toll  or  custom  for  the  passage,  con- 
cerning the  amount  of  which  disputes  sometimes  arose  between 
him  and  the  passengers.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  bridge- 
ward  had  usually  the  better  in  these  questions,  since  he  could 
at  pleasure  detain  the  traveller  on  the  opposite  side ;  or,  suf- 
fering him  to  pass  half-way,  might  keep  him  prisoner  in  his 
tower  till  they  were  agreed  on  the  rate  of  pontage. 1 

But  it  was  most  frequently  with  the  monks  of  St.  Mary's 
that  the  warder  had  to  dispute  his  perquisites.  These  holy  men 
insisted  for,  and  at  length  obtained,  a  right  of  gratuitous  pas- 
sage to  themselves,  greatly  to  the  discontent  of  the  bridge- 
1  See  Drawbridge  at  Bridge-end.   Note  4. 


100 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


keeper.  But  when  they  demanded  the  same  immunity  for  the 
numerous  pilgrims  who  visited  the  shrine,  the  bridge-keeper 
waxed  restive,  and  was  supported  by  his  lord  in  his  resistance. 
The  controversy  grew  animated  on  both  sides :  the  abbot  men- 
aced excommunication,  and  the  keeper  of  the  bridge,  though 
unable  to  retaliate  in  kind,  yet  made  each  individual  monk  who 
had  to  cross  and  recross  the  river  endure  a  sort  of  purgatory 
ere  he  would  accommodate  them  with  a  passage.  This  was  a 
great  inconvenience,  and  would  have  proved  a  more  serious 
one,  but  that  the  river  was  fordable  for  man  and  horse  in 
ordinary  weather. 

It  was  a  fine  moonlight  night,  as  we  have  already  said, 
when  Father  Philip  approached  this  bridge,  the  singular  con- 
struction of  which  gives  a  curious  idea  of  the  insecurity  of  the 
times.  The  river  was  not  in  flood,  but  it  was  above  its  or- 
dinary level — "  a  heavy  water, "  as  it  is  called  in  that  country, 
through  which  the  monk  had  no  particular  inclination  to  ride, 
if  he  could  manage  the  matter  better. 

"Peter,  my  good  friend,"  cried  the  sacristan,  raising  his 
voice — "my  very  excellent  friend,  Peter,  be  so  kind  as  to 
lower  the  drawbridge.  Peter,  I  say,  dost  thou  not  hear?  it 
is  thy  gossip,  Father  Philip,  who  calls  thee." 

Peter  heard  him  perfectly  well,  and  saw  him  into  the  bar- 
gain ;  but,  as  he  had  considered  the  sacristan  as  peculiarly  his 
enemy  in  his  dispute  with  the  convent,  he  went  quietly  to 
bed,  after  reconnoitring  the  monk  through  his  loophole,  ob- 
serving to  his  wife,  that  "riding  the  water  in  a  moonlight 
night  would  do  the  sacristan  no  harm,  and  would  teach  him 
the  value  of  a  brig  the  neist  time,  on  whilk  a  man  might  pass 
high  and  dry,  winter  and  summer,  flood  and  ebb." 

After  exhausting  his  voice  in  entreaties  and  threats,  which 
were  equally  unattended  to  by  Peter  of  the  Brig,  as  he  was 
called,  Father  Philip  at  length  moved  down  the  river  to  take 
the  ordinary  ford  at  the  head  of  the  next  stream.  Cursing 
the  rustic  obstinacy  of  Peter,  he  began,  nevertheless,  to  per- 
suade himself  that  the  passage  of  the  river  by  the  ford  was 
not  only  safe,  but  pleasant.  The  banks  and  scattered  trees 
were  so  beautifully  reflected  from  the  bosom  of  the  dark 


THE  MONASTERY. 


101 


stream,  the  whole  cool  and  delicious  picture  formed  so  pleas- 
ing a  contrast  to  his  late  agitation,  to  the  warmth  occasioned 
by  his  vain  endeavours  to  move  the  relentless  porter  of 
the  bridge,  that  the  result  was  rather  agreeable  than  other- 
wise. 

As  Father  Philip  came  close  to  the  water's  edge,  at  the  spot 
where  he  was  to  enter  it,  there  sat  a  female  under  a  large 
broken,  scathed  oak-tree,  or  rather  under  the  remains  of  such 
a  tree,  weeping,  wringing  her  hands,  and  looking  earnestly  on 
the  current  of  the  river.  The  monk  was  struck  with  astonish- 
ment to  see  a  female  there  at  that  time  of  night.  But  he  was 
in  all  honest  service — and  if  a  step  farther,  I  put  it  upon  his 
own  conscience — a  devoted  squire  of  dames.  After  observing 
the  maiden  for  a  moment,  although  she  seemed  to  take  no  no- 
tice of  his  presence,  he  was  moved  by  her  distress,  and  willing 
to  offer  his  assistance.  "Damsel,"  said  he,  "thou  seemest  in 
no  ordinary  distress;  peradventure,  like  myself,  thou  hast 
been  refused  passage  at  the  bridge  by  the  churlish  keeper, 
and  thy  crossing  may  concern  thee  either  for  performance  of  a 
vow  or  some  other  weighty  charge." 

The  maiden  uttered  some  inarticulate  sounds,  looked  at  the 
river,  and  then  in  the  face  of  the  sacristan.  It  struck  Father 
Philip  at  that  instant  that  a  Highland  chief  of  distinction  had 
been  for  some  time  expected  to  pay  his  vows  at  the  shrine  of 
St.  Mary's;  and  that  possibly  this  fair  maiden  might  be  one 
of  his  family,  travelling  alone  for  accomplishment  of  a  vow, 
or  left  behind  by  some  accident,  to  whom,  therefore,  it  would 
be  but  right  and  prudent  to  use  every  civility  in  his  power, 
especially  as  she  seemed  unacquainted  with  the  Lowland 
tongue.  Such  at  least  was  the  only  motive  the  sacristan  was 
ever  known  to  assign  for  his  courtesy ;  if  there  was  any  other, 
I  once  more  refer  it  to  his  own  conscience. 

To  express  himself  by  signs,  the  common  language  of  all 
nations,  the  cautious  sacristan  first  pointed  to  the  river,  then 
to  his  mule's  crupper,  and  then  made,  as  gracefully  as  he 
could,  a  sign  to  induce  the  fair  solitary  to  mount  behind  him. 
She  seemed  to  understand  his  meaning,  for  she  rose  up  as  if 
to  accept  his  offer ;  and  while  the  good  monk,  who,  as  we  have 


102  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

hinted,  was  no  great  cavalier,  laboured  with  the  pressure  of 
the  right  leg  and  the  use  of  the  left  rein  to  place  his  mule 
with  her  side  to  the  bank  in  such  a  position  that  the  lady 
might  mount  with  ease,  she  rose  from  the  ground  with  rather 
portentous  activity,  and  at  one  bound  sate  behind  the  monk 
upon  the  animal,  the  much  firmer  rider  of  the  two.  The  mule 
by  no  means  seemed  to  approve  of  this  double  burden ;  she 
bounded,  bolted,  and  would  soon  have  thrown  Father  Philip 
over  her  head,  had  not  the  maiden  with  a  firm  hand  detained 
him  in  the  saddle. 

At  length  the  restive  brute  changed  her  humour ;  and,  from 
refusing  to  budge  off  the  spot,  suddenly  stretched  her  nose 
homeward,  and  dashed  into  the  ford  as  fast  as  she  could  scam- 
per. A  new  terror  now  invaded  the  monk's  mind:  the  ford 
seemed  unusually  deep,  the  water  eddied  off  in  strong  ripple 
from  the  counter  of  the  mule,  and  began  to  rise  upon  her  side. 
Philip  lost  his  presence  of  mind,  which  was  at  no  time  his 
most  ready  attribute ;  the  mule  yielded  to  the  weight  of  the 
current,  and  as  the  rider  was  not  attentive  to  keep  her  head 
turned  up  the  river,  she  drifted  downward,  lost  the  ford  and 
her  footing  at  once,  and  began  to  swim  with  her  head  down 
the  stream.  And  what  was  sufficiently  strange,  at  the  same 
moment,  notwithstanding  the  extreme  peril,  the  damsel  began 
to  sing,  thereby  increasing,  if  anything  could  increase,  the 
bodily  fear  of  the  worthy  sacristan. 

Merrily  swim  we,  the  moon  shines  bright, 

Both  current  and  ripple  are  dancing  in  light. 

We  have  roused  the  night  raven,  I  heard  him  croak, 

As  we  plashed  along  beneath  the  oak 

That  flings  its  broad  branches  so  far  and  so  wide, 

Their  shadows  are  dancing  in  midst  of  the  tide. 

"  Who  wakens  my  nestlings,"  the  raven  he  said, 

"  My  beak  shall  ere  morn  in  his  blood  be  red. 

For  a  blue  swoln  corpse  is  a  dainty  meal, 

And  I'll  have  my  share  with  the  pike  and  the  eel." 

Merrily  swim  we,  the  moon  shines  bright, 
There's  a  golden  gleam  on  the  distant  height ; 
There's  a  silver  shower  on  the  alders  dank, 
And  the  drooping  willows  that  wave  on  the  bank. 
I  see  the  abbey,  both  turret  and  tower, 
It  is  all  astir  for  the  vesper  hour ; 


THE  MONASTERY.  103 

The  monks  for  the  chapel  are  leaving  each  cell, 
But  where's  Father  Philip,  should  toll  the  bell  ? 

Merrily  swim  we,  the  moon  shines  bright, 
Downward  we  drift  through  shadow  and  light, 
Under  yon  rock  the  eddies  sleep, 
Calm  and  silent,  dark  and  deep. 
The  Kelpy  has  risen  from  the  fathomless  pool, 
He  has  lighted  his  candle  of  death  and  of  dool. 
Look,  father,  look,  and  you'll  laugh  to  see 
How  he  gapes  and  glares  with  his  eyes  on  thee ! 

Good  luck  to  your  fishing,  whom  watch  ye  to-night  ? 

A  man  of  mean  or  a  man  of  might  ? 

Is  it  layman  or  priest  that  must  float  in  your  cove, 

Or  lover  who  crosses  to  visit  his  love? 

Hark  !  heard  ye  the  Kelpy  reply  as  we  pass'd — 

11  God's  blessing  on  the  warder,  he  lock'd  the  bridge  fast ! 

All  that  come  to  my  cove  are  sunk, 

Priest  or  layman,  lover  or  monk." 

How  long  the  damsel  might  have  continued  to  sing,  or  where 
the  terrified  monk's  journey  might  have  ended,  is  uncertain. 
As  she  sung  the  last  stanza,  they  arrived  at,  or  rather  in,  a 
broad  tranquil  sheet  of  water,  caused  by  a  strong  wear  or 
dam-head,  running  across  the  river,  which  dashed  in  a  broad 
cataract  over  the  barrier.  The  mule,  whether  from  choice  or 
influenced  by  the  suction  of  the  current,  made  towards  the  cut 
intended  to  supply  the  convent  mills,  and  entered  it  half  swim- 
ming, half  wading,  and  pitching  the  unlucky  monk  to  and  fro 
in  the  saddle  at  a  fearful  rate. 

As  his  person  flew  hither  and  thither,  his  garment  became 
loose,  and  in  an  effort  to  retain  it,  his  hand  lighted  on  the 
volume  of  the  Lady  of  Avenel  which  was  in  his  bosom.  No 
sooner  had  he  grasped  it  than  his  companion  pitched  him  out 
of  the  saddle  into  the  stream,  where,  still  keeping  her  hand 
on  his  collar,  she  gave  him  two  or  three  good  souses  in  the 
watery  fluid,  so  as  to  ensure  that  every  part  of  him  had  its 
share  of  wetting,  and  then  quitted  her  hold  when  he  was  so 
near  the  side  that  by  a  slight  effort — of  a  great  one  he  was 
incapable — he  might  scramble  on  shore.  This  accordingly  he 
accomplished,  and  turning  his  eyes  to  see  what  had  become  of 
his  extraordinary  companion,  she  was  nowhere  to  be  seen ;  but 
still  he  heard,  as  if  from  the  surface  of  the  river,  and  mixing 


104 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


with  the  noise  of  the  water  breaking  over  the  dam-head,  a 
fragment  of  her  wild  song,  which  seemed  to  run  thus : 

Landed — landed  !  the  black  book  hath  won, 
Else  had  you  seen  Berwick  with  morning  sun  ! 
Sain  ye,  and  save  ye,  and  blythe  mot  ye  be. 
For  seldom  they  land  that  go  swimming  with  me. 

The  ecstasy  of  the  monk's  terror  could  be  endured  no  longer; 
his  head  grew  dizzy,  and,  after  staggering  a  few  steps  onward, 
and  running  himself  against  a  wall,  he  sunk  down  in  a  state  of 
insensibility. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Now  let  us  sit  in  conclave.    That  these  weeds 

Be  rooted  from  the  vineyard  of  the  church, 

That  these  foul  tares  be  sever'd  from  the  wheat, 

We  are,  I  trust,  agreed.    Yet  how  to  do  this, 

Nor  hurt  the  wholesome  crop  and  tender  vine-plants, 

Craves  good  advisement. 

The  Reformation. 

The  vesper  service  in  the  monastery  church  of  St.  Mary's 
was  now  over.  The  abbot  had  disrobed  himself  of  his  magni- 
ficent vestures  of  ceremony,  and  resumed  his  ordinary  habit, 
which  was  a  black  gown,  worn  over  a  white  cassock,  with  a 
narrow  scapulary ;  a  decent  and  venerable  dress,  which  was 
well  calculated  to  set  off  to  advantage  the  portly  mien  of 
Abbot  Boniface. 

In  quiet  times  no  one  could  have  filled  the  state  of  a  mitred 
abbot,  for  such  was  his  dignity,  more  respectably  than  this 
worthy  prelate.  He  had,  no  doubt,  many  of  those  habits  of 
self-indulgence  which  men  are  apt  to  acquire  who  live  for 
themselves  alone.  He  was  vain,  moreover;  and,  when  boldly 
confronted,  had  sometimes  shown  symptoms  of  timidity  not 
very  consistent  with  the  high  claims  which  he  preferred  as  an 
eminent  member  of  the  church,  or  with  the  punctual  defer- 
ence which  he  exacted  from  his  religious  brethren,  and  all 
who  were  placed  under  his  command.  But  he  was  hospitable, 
charitable,  and  by  no  means  of  himself  disposed  to  proceed 


THE  MONASTERY. 


105 


with  severity  against  any  one.  In  short,  he  would  in  other 
times  have  slumbered  out  his  term  of  preferment  with  as 
much  credit  as  any  other  "  purple  abbot, "  who  lived  easily, 
but  at  the  same  time  decorously,  slept  soundly,  and  did  not 
disquiet  himself  with  dreams. 

But  the  wide  alarm  spread  through  the  whole  Church  of 
Rome  by  the  progress  of  the  reformed  doctrines  sorely  dis- 
turbed the  repose  of  Abbot  Boniface,  and  opened  to  him  a 
wide  field  of  duties  and  cares  which  he  had  never  so  much  as 
dreamed  of.  There  were  opinions  to  be  combated  and  re- 
futed, practices  to  be  inquired  into,  heretics  to  be  detected 
and  punished,  the  fallen  off  to  be  reclaimed,  the  wavering  to 
be  confirmed,  scandal  to  be  removed  from  the  clergy,  and  the 
vigour  of  discipline  to  be  re-established.  Post  upon  post  ar- 
rived at  the  Monastery  of  St.  Mary's — horses  reeking  and 
riders  exhausted — this  from  the  privy  council,  that  from  the 
Primate  of  Scotland,  and  this  other  again  from  the  Queen 
Mother,  exhorting,  approving,  condemning,  requesting  advice 
upon  this  subject  and  requiring  information  upon  that. 

These  missives  Abbot  Boniface  received  with  an  important 
air  of  helplessness,  or  a  helpless  air  of  importance,  whichever 
the  reader  may  please  to  term  it,  evincing  at  once  gratified 
vanity  and  profound  trouble  of  mind. 

The  sharp-witted  Primate  of  St.  Andrews  had  foreseen  the 
deficiencies  of  the  abbot  of  St.  Mary's,  and  endeavoured  to 
provide  for  them  by  getting  admitted  into  his  monastery,  as 
sub-prior,  a  brother  Cistercian,  a  man  of  parts  and  knowledge, 
devoted  to  the  service  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and  very  cap- 
able not  only  to  advise  the  abbot  on  occasions  of  difficulty, 
but  to  make  him  sensible  of  his  duty  in  case  he  should,  from 
good-nature  or  timidity,  be  disposed  to  shrink  from  it. 

Father  Eustace  played  the  same  part  in  the  monastery  as 
the  old  general  who,  in  foreign  armies,  is  placed  at  the  elbow 
of  the  prince  of  the  blood,  who  nominally  commands  in  chief, 
on  condition  of  attempting  nothing  without  the  advice  of  his 
dry-nurse;  and  he  shared  the  fate  of  all  such  dry-nurses, 
being  heartily  disliked  as  well  as  feared  by  his  principal. 
Still,  however,  the  Primate's  intention  was  fully  answered. 


106 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Father  Eustace  became  the  constant  theme  and  often  the  bug- 
bear of  the  worthy  abbot,  who  hardly  dared  to  turn  himself 
in  his  bed  without  considering  what  Father  Eustace  would 
think  of  it.  In  every  case  of  difficulty,  Father  Eustace  was 
summoned,  and  his  opinion  asked;  and  no  sooner  was  the 
embarrassment  removed  than  the  abbot's  next  thought  was 
how  to  get  rid  of  his  adviser.  In  every  letter  which  he  wrote 
to  those  in  power,  he  recommended  Father  Eustace  to  some 
high  church  preferment — a  bishopric  or  an  abbey;  and  as 
they  dropped  one  after  another,  and  were  otherwise  conferred, 
he  began  to  think,  as  he  confessed  to  the  sacristan  in  the  bit- 
terness of  his  spirit,  that  the  Monastery  of  St.  Mary's  had  got 
a  life-rent  lease  of  their  sub-prior. 

Yet  more  indulgent  he  would  have  been  had  he  suspected 
that  Father  Eustace's  ambition  was  fixed  upon  his  own  mitre, 
which,  from  some  attacks  of  an  apoplectic  nature,  deemed  by 
the  abbot's  friends  to  be  more  serious  than  by  himself,  it  was 
supposed  might  be  shortly  vacant.  But  the  confidence  which, 
like  other  dignitaries,  he  reposed  in  his  own  health,  prevented 
Abbot  Boniface  from  imagining  that  it  held  any  concatenation 
with  the  motions  of  Father  Eustace. 

The  necessity  under  which  he  found  himself  of  consulting 
with  his  grand  adviser,  in  cases  of  real  difficulty,  rendered 
the  worthy  abbot  particularly  desirous  of  doing  without  him 
in  all  ordinary  cases  of  administration,  though  not  without 
considering  what  Father  Eustace  would  have  said  of  the  mat- 
ter. He  scorned,  therefore,  to  give  a  hint  to  the  sub-prior 
of  the  bold  stroke  by  which  he  had  despatched  Brother  Philip 
to  Glendearg ;  but  when  the  vespers  came  without  his  reap- 
pearance he  became  a  little  uneasy,  the  more  as  other  matters 
weighed  upon  his  mind.  The  feud  with  the  warder  or  keeper 
of  the  bridge  threatened  to  be  attended  with  bad  consequences, 
as  the  man's  quarrel  was  taken  up  by  the  martial  baron  under 
whom  he  served;  and  pressing  letters  of  an  unpleasant  ten- 
dency had  just  arrived  from  the  Primate.  Like  a  gouty  man 
who  catches  hold  of  his  crutch  while  he  curses  the  infirmity 
that  reduces  him  to  use  it,  the  abbot,  however  reluctant, 
found  himself  obliged  to  require  Eustace's  presence,  after  the 


THE  MONASTERY. 


107 


service  was  over,  in  his  house,  or  rather  palace,  which  was 
attached  to,  and  made  part  of,  the  monastery. 

Abbot  Boniface  was  seated  in  his  high-backed  chair,  the 
grotesque  carved  back  of  which  terminated  in  a  mitre,  before 
a  fire  where  two  or  three  large  logs  were  reduced  to  one  red 
glowing  mass  of  charcoal.  At  his  elbow,  on  an  oaken  stand, 
stood  the  remains  of  a  roasted  capon,  on  which  his  reverence 
had  made  his  evening  meal,  flanked  by  a  goodly  stoup  of  Bour- 
deaux  of  excellent  flavour.  He  was  gazing  indolently  on  the 
fire,  partly  engaged  in  meditation  on  his  past  and  present  for- 
tunes, partly  occupied  by  endeavouring  to  trace  towers  and 
steeples  in  the  red  embers. 

"  Yes, "  thought  the  abbot  to  himself,  "  in  that  red  perspec- 
tive I  could  fancy  to  myself  the  peaceful  towers  of  Dundren- 
nan,  where  I  passed  my  life  ere  I  was  called  to  pomp  and  to 
trouble.  A  quiet  brotherhood  we  were,  regular  in  our  domes- 
tic duties;  and  when  the  frailties  of  humanity  prevailed  over 
us  we  confessed,  and  were  absolved  by  each  other,  and  the 
most  formidable  part  of  the  penance  was  the  jest  of  the  con- 
vent on  the  culprit.  I  can  almost  fancy  that  I  see  the  cloister 
garden  and  the  pear-trees  which  I  grafted  with  my  own  hands. 
And  for  what  have  I  changed  all  this,  but  to  be  overwhelmed 
with  business  which  concerns  me  not,  to  be  called  'My  Lord 
Abbot/  and  to  be  tutored  by  Father  Eustace?  I  would  these 
towers  were  the  Abbey  of  Aberbrothwick,  and  Father  Eustace 
the  abbot ;  or  I  would  he  were  in  the  fire  on  any  terms,  so  I 
were  rid  of  him !  The  Primate  says  our  Holy  Father  the  Pope 
hath  an  adviser ;  I  am  sure  he  could  not  live  a  week  with  such 
a  one  as  mine.  Then  there  is  no  learning  what  Father  Eus- 
tace thinks  till  you  confess  your  own  difficulties.  No  hint 
will  bring  forth  his  opinion :  he  is  like  a  miser,  who  will  not 
unbuckle  his  purse  to  bestow  a  farthing,  until  the  wretch  who 
needs  it  has  owned  his  excess  of  poverty,  and  wrung  out  the 
boon  by  importunity.  And  thus  I  am  dishonoured  in  the  eyes 
of  my  religious  brethren,  who  behold  me  treated  like  a  child 
which  hath  no  sense  of  its  own.  I  will  bear  it  no  longer! 
Brother  Bennet  (a  lay  brother  answered  to  his  call),  tell  Father 
Eustace  that  I  need  not  his  presence. " 


108 


WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS. 


"  I  came  to  say  to  your  reverence  that  the  holy  father  is 
entering  even  now  from  the  cloisters." 

"  Be  it  so, "  said  the  abbot,  "  he  is  welcome ;  remove  these 
things — or  rather,  place  a  trencher,  the  holy  father  may  be  a 
little  hungry ;  yet  no,  remove  them,  for  there  is  no  good  fel- 
lowship in  him.  Let  the  stoup  of  wine  remain,  however,  and 
place  another  cup." 

The  lay  brother  obeyed  these  contradictory  commands  in 
the  way  he  judged  most  seemly:  he  removed  the  carcass  of 
the  half-sacked  capon,  and  placed  two  goblets  beside  the  stoup 
of  Bourdeaux.  At  the  same  instant  entered  Father  Eus- 
tace. 

He  was  a  thin,  sharp-faced,  slight-made  little  man,  whose 
keen  grey  eyes  seemed  almost  to  look  through  the  person  to 
whom  he  addressed  himself.  His  body  was  emaciated  not 
only  with  the  fasts  which  he  observed  with  rigid  punctuality, 
but  also  by  the  active  and  unwearied  exercise  of  his  sharp  and 
piercing  intellect : 

A  fiery  soul,  which,  working  out  its  way, 

Fretted  the  puny  body  to  decay, 

And  o'er-inform'd  the  tenement  of  clay. 

He  turned  with  conventual  reverence  to  the  lord  abbot ;  and 
as  they  stood  together  it  was  scarce  possible  to  see  a  more 
complete  difference  of  form  and  expression.  The  good-na- 
tured rosy  face  and  laughing  eye  of  the  abbot,  which  even  his 
present  anxiety  could  not  greatly  ruffle,  was  a  wonderful  con- 
trast to  the  thin,  pallid  cheek  and  quick,  penetrating  glance 
of  the  monk,  in  which  an  eager  and  keen  spirit  glanced 
through  eyes  to  which  it  seemed  to  give  supernatural  lustre. 

The  abbot  opened  the  conversation  by  motioning  to  the 
monk  to  take  a  stool,  and  inviting  him  to  a  cup  of  wine.  The 
courtesy  was  declined  with  respect,  yet  not  without  a  remark 
that  the  vesper-service  was  past. 

"For  the  stomach's  sake,  brother,"  said  the  abbot,  colour- 
ing a  little — "  you  know  the  text." 

"  It  is  a  dangerous  one, "  answered  the  monk,  "  to  handle 
alone,  or  at  late  hours.    Cut  off  from  human  society — the 


THE  MONASTERY. 


109 


juice  of  the  grape  becomes  a  perilous  companion  of  solitude, 
and  therefore  I  ever  shun  it." 

Abbot  Boniface  had  poured  himself  out  a  goblet  which 
might  hold  about  half  an  English  pint;  but,  either  struck 
with  the  truth  of  the  observation,  or  ashamed  to  act  in  direct 
opposition  to  it,  he  suffered  it  to  remain  untasted  before  him, 
and  immediately  changed  the  subject.. 

"  The  Primate  hath  written  to  us, "  said  he,  "  to  make  strict 
search  within  our  bounds  after  the  heretical  persons  denounced 
in  this  list,  who  have  withdrawn  themselves  from  the  justice 
which  their  opinions  deserve.  It  is  deemed  probable  that  they 
will  attempt  to  retire  to  England  by  our  borders,  and  the  Pri- 
mate requireth  me  to  watch  with  vigilance,  and  what  not. " 

"Assuredly,"  said  the  monk,  "the  magistrate  should  not 
bear  the  sword  in  vain — those  be  they  that  turn  the  world 
upside  down — and  doubtless  your  reverend  wisdom  will  with 
due  diligence  second  the  exertions  of  the  right  reverend  father 
in  God,  being  in  the  peremptory  defence  of  the  Holy  Church. " 

"Ay,  but  how  is  this  to  be  done?"  answered  the  abbot. 
"  St.  Mary  aid  us !  The  Primate  writes  to  me  as  if  I  were  a 
temporal  baron — a  man  under  command,  having  soldiers  under 
him!  He  says,  send  forth — scour  the  country — guard  the 
passes.  Truly  these  men  do  not  travel  as  those  who  would 
give  their  lives  for  nothing :  the  last  who  went  south  passed 
the  Dry  March  at  the  Eiding  Burn  with  an  escort  of  thirty 
spears,  as  our  reverend  brother  the  abbot  of  Kelso  did  write 
unto  us.    How  are  cowls  and  scapularies  to  stop  the  way?" 

"  Your  bailiff  is  accounted  a  good  man-at-arms,  holy  fa- 
ther," said  Eustace;  "your  vassals  are  obliged  to  rise  for  the 
defence  of  the  Holy  Kirk — it  is  the  tenure  on  which  they 
hold  their  lands ;  if  they  will  not  come  forth  for  the  church 
which  gives  them  bread,  let  their  possessions  be  given  to 
others." 

"  We  shall  not  be  wanting, "  said  the  abbot,  collecting  him- 
self with  importance,  "  to  do  whatever  may  advantage  Holy 
Kirk — thyself  shall  hear  the  charge  to  our  bailiff  and  our 
officials ;  but  here  again  is  our  controversy  with  the  warden 
of  the  bridge  and  the  Baron  of  Meigallot.    St.  Mary !  vexa- 


110 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


tions  do  so  multiply  upon  the  house,  and  upon  the  generation, 
that  a  man  wots  not  where  to  turn  to !  Thou  didst  say,  Fa- 
ther Eustace,  thou  wouldst  look  into  our  evidents  touching 
this  free  passage  for  the  pilgrims?" 

"  I  have  looked  into  the  chartulary  of  the  house,  holy  fa- 
ther, "  said  Eustace,  "  and  therein  I  find  a  written  and  formal 
grant  of  all  duties  and  Customs  payable  at  the  drawbridge  of 
Brigton,  not  only  by  ecclesiastics  of  this  foundation,  but  by 
every  pilgrim  truly  designed  to  accomplish  his  vows  at  this 
house,  to  the  Abbot  Ailford,  and  the  monks  of  the  house  of 
St.  Mary  in  Kennaquhair,  from  that  time  and  for  ever.  The 
deed  is  dated  on  St.  Bridget's  Even,  in  the  year  of  Bedemp- 
tion  1137,  and  bears  the  sign  and  seal  of  the  granter,  Charles 
of  Meigallot,  great-great-grandfather  of  this  baron,  and  pur- 
ports to  be  granted  for  the  safety  of  his  own  soul,  and  for  the 
weal  of  the  souls  of  his  father  and  mother,  and  of  all  his 
predecessors  and  successors,  being  Baron  of  Meigallot." 

"  But  he  alleges, "  said  the  abbot,  "  that  the  bridge-wards 
have  been  in  possession  of  these  dues,  and  have  rendered  them 
available,  for  more  than  fifty  years,  and  the  baron  threatens 
violence;  meanwhile,  the  journey  of  the  pilgrims  is  inter- 
rupted, to  the  prejudice  of  their  own  souls,  and  the  diminu- 
tion of  the  revenues  of  St.  Mary.  The  sacristan  advised  us 
to  put  on  a  boat ;  but  the  warden,  whom  thou  knowest  to  be 
a  godless  man,  has  sworn  the  devil  tear  him,  but  that,  if  they 
put  on  a  boat  on  the  laird's  stream,  he  will  rive  her  board 
from  board.  And  then  some  say  we  should  compound  the 
claim  for  a  small  sum  in  silver."  Here  the  abbot  paused  a 
moment  for  a  reply,  but  receiving  none,  he  added,  "  But  what 
thinkest  thou,  Father  Eustace?  why  art  thou  silent?" 

"  Beause  I  am  surprised  at  the  question  which  the  lord  ab- 
bot of  St.  Mary's  asks  at  the  youngest  of  his  brethren." 

"  Youngest  in  time  of  your  abode  with  us,  Brother  Eustace," 
said  the  abbot,  "  not  youngest  in  years,  or,  I  think,  in  experi- 
ence— sub-prior  also  of  this  convent." 

"I  am  astonished,"  continued  Eustace,  "that  the  abbot  of 
this  venerable  house  should  ask  of  any  one  whether  he  can 
alienate  the  patrimony  of  our  holy  and  divine  patroness,  or 


THE  MONASTERY. 


Ill 


give  up  to  an  unconscientious,  and  perhaps  a  heretic,  baron 
the  rights  conferred  on  this  church  by  his  devout  progenitor. 
Popes  and  councils  alike  prohibit  it ;  the  honour  of  the  living 
and  the  weal  of  departed  souls  alike  forbid  it :  it  may  not  be. 
To  force,  if  he  dare  use  it,  we  must  surrender ;  but  never  by 
our  consent  should  we  see  the  goods  of  the  church  plundered, 
with  as  little  scruple  as  he  would  drive  off  a  herd  of  English 
beeves.  Eouse  yourself,  reverend  father,  and  doubt  nothing 
but  that  the  g.ood  cause  shall  prevail.  Whet  the  spiritual 
sword,  and  direct  it  against  the  wicked  who  would  usurp  our 
holy  rights.  Whet  the  temporal  sword  if  it  be  necessary,  and 
stir  up  the  courage  and  zeal  of  your  loyal  vassals." 

The  abbot  sighed  deeply.  "All  this,"  he  said,  "is  soon 
spoken  by  him  who  hath  to  act  it  not ;  but  -"  He  was  in- 
terrupted by  the  entrance  of  Bennet  rather  hastily.  "  The 
mule  on  which  the  sacristan  had  set  out  in  the  morning  had 
returned, "  he  said,  "  to  the  convent  stable  all  over  wet,  and 
with  the  saddle  turned  round  beneath  her  belly." 

"  Sancta  Maria!"  said  the  abbot,  "our  dear  brother  hath 
perished  by  the  way!" 

"It  may  not  be,"  said  Eustace,  hastily;  "let  the  bell  be 
tolled — cause  the  brethren  to  get  torches — alarm  the  village — 
hurry  down  to  the  river — I  myself  will  be  the  foremost." 

The  real  abbot  stood  astonished  and  agape  when  at  once  he 
beheld  his  office  filled,  and  saw  all  which  he  ought  to  have 
ordered  going  forward  at  the  dictates  of  the  youngest  monk 
in  the  convent.  But  ere  the  orders  of  Eustace,  which  nobody 
dreamed  of  disputing,  were  carried  into  execution,  the  neces- 
sity was  prevented  by  the  sudden  apparition  of  the  sacristan, 
whose  supposed  danger  excited  all  the  alarm. 


112 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Erase  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain, 
Cleanse  the  foul  bosom  of  the  perilous  stuff 
That  weighs  upon  the  heart. 

Macbeth. 

What  betwixt  cold  and  fright,  the  afflicted  sacristan  stood 
before  his  superior,  propped  on  the  friendly  arm  of  the  con- 
vent miller,  drenched  with  water,  and  scarce  able  to  utter  a 
syllable. 

After  various  attempts  to  speak,  the  first  words  he  uttered 
were 

"Swim  we  merrily,  the  moon  shines  bright." 

"Swim  we  merrily!"  retorted  the  abbot,  indignantly;  "a 
merry  night  have  ye  chosen  for  swimming,  and  a  becoming 
salutation  to  your  superior!" 

"  Our  brother  is  bewildered, 99  said  Eustace ;  "  speak,  Father 
Philip,  how  is  it  with  you?" 

"  Good  luck  to  your  fishing," 

continued  the  sacristan,  making  a  most  dolorous  attempt  at 
the  tune  of  his  strange  companion. 

"  Good  luck  to  your  fishing!"  repeated  the  abbot,  still  more 
surprised  and  displeased;  "by  my  halidome,  he  is  drunken 
with  wine,  and  comes  to  our  presence  with  his  jolly  catches 
in  his  throat !    If  bread  and  water  can  cure  this  folly  " 

"  With  your  pardon,  venerable  father, "  said  the  sub-prior, 
"of  water  our  brother  has  had  enough;  and  methinks  the 
confusion  of  his  eye  is  rather  that  of  terror  than  of  aught 
unbecoming  his  profession.  Where  did  you  find  him,  Hob 
Miller?" 

"An  it  please  your  reverence,  I  did  but  go  to  shut  the 
sluice  of  the  mill,  and  as  I  was  going  to  shut  the  sluice,  I 
heard  something  groan  near  to  me;  but  judging  it  was  one  of 
Giles  Fletcher's  hogs — for  so  please  you,  he  never  shuts  his 
gate — I  caught  up  my  lever,  and  was  about — St.  Mary  forgive 
me ! — to  strike  where  I  heard  the  sound,  when,  as  the  saints 


THE  MONASTERY. 


113 


would  have  it,  I  heard  the  second  groan  just  like  that  of  a 
living  man.  So  I  called  up  my  knaves,  and  found  the  father 
sacristan  lying  wet  and  senseless  under  the  wall  of  our  kiln. 
So  soon  as  we  brought  him  to  himself  a  bit,  he  prayed  to  be 
brought  to  your  reverence,  but  I  doubt  me  his  wits  have  gone 
a  bell-wavering  by  the  road.  It  was  but  now  that  he  spoke 
in  somewhat  better  form." 

"  Well!"  said  Brother  Eustace,  "thou  hast  done  well,  Hob 
Miller ;  only  begone  now,  and  remember  a  second  time  to  pause 
ere  you  strike  in  the  dark." 

" Please  your  reverence,  it  shall  be  a  lesson  to  me,"  said 
the  miller,  "  not  to  mistake  a  holy  man  for  a  hog  again,  so 
long  as  I  live. "  And,  making  a  bow  with  profound  humility, 
the  miller  withdrew. 

"And  now  that  this  churl  is  gone,  Father  Philip,"  said 
Eustace,  "  wilt  thou  tell  our  venerable  superior  what  ails  thee? 
Art  thou  vino  gravatus,  man?  If  so,  we  will  have  thee  to 
thy  cell." 

"Water! — water!  not  wine,"  muttered  the  exhausted  sac- 
ristan. 

"Nay,"  said  the  monk,  "if  that  be  thy  complaint,  wine 
may  perhaps  cure  thee" ;  and  he  reached  him  a  cup,  which 
the  patient  drank  off  to  his  great  benefit. 

"And  now,"  said  the  abbot,  "let  his  garments  be  changed, 
or  rather  let  him  be  carried  to  the  infirmary ;  for  it  will  preju- 
dice our  health,  should  we  hear  his  narrative  while  he  stands 
there,  steaming  like  a  rising  hoar-frost. " 

"  I  will  hear  his  adventure, "  said  Eustace,  "  and  report  it 
to  your  reverence. "  And,  accordingly,  he  attended  the  sacris- 
tan to  his  cell.  In  about  half  an  hour  he  returned  to  the 
abbot. 

"How  is  it  with  Father  Philip?"  said  the  abbot;  "and 
through  what  came  he  into  such  a  state?" 

"  He  comes  from  Glendearg,  reverend  sir, "  said  Eustace ; 
"  and  for  the  rest,  he  telleth  such  a  legend  as  hath  not  been 
heard  in  this  monastery  for  many  a  long  day. "  He  then  gave 
the  abbot  the  outline  of  the  sacristan's  adventures  in  the 
homeward  journey,  and  added,  that  for  some  time  he  was  in- 
8 


114 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


clined  to  think  his  brain  was  infirm,  seeing  he  had  sung, 
laughed,  and  wept  all  in  the  same  breath. 

"A  wonderful  thing  it  is  to  us,"  said  the  abbot,  "that 
Satan  has  been  permitted  to  put  forth  his  hand  thus  far  on 
one  of  our  sacred  brethren!" 

"True,"  said  Father  Eustace;  "but  for  every  text  there  is 
a  paraphrase ;  and  I  have  my  suspicions  that,  if  the  drenching 
of  Father  Philip  cometh  of  the  Evil  One,  yet  it  may  not  have 
been  altogether  without  his  own  personal  fault." 

"How!"  said  the  father  abbot;  "I  will  not  believe  that 
thou  makest  doubt  that  Satan,  in  former  days,  hath  been  per- 
mitted to  afflict  saints  and  holy  men  even  as  he  afflicted  the 
pious  Job?" 

"  God  forbid  I  should  make  question  of  it, "  said  the  monk, 
crossing  himself;  "yet,  wrhere  there  is  an  exposition  of  the 
sacristan's  tale  which  is  less  than  miraculous,  I  hold  it  safe 
to  consider  it  at  least,  if  not  to  abide  by  it.  Now,  this  Hob 
the  Miller  hath  a  buxom  daughter.  Suppose — I  say  only  sup- 
pose— that  our  sacristan  met  her  at  the  ford  on  her  return 
from  her  uncle's  on  the  other  side,  for  there  she  hath  this 
evening  been;  suppose  that,  in  courtesy,  and  to  save  her 
stripping  hose  and  shoon,  the  sacristan  brought  her  across 
behind  him ;  suppose  he  carried  his  familiarities  farther  than 
the  maiden  was  willing  to  admit ;  and  we  may  easily  suppose, 
father,  that  this  wetting  was  the  result  of  it. " 

"And  this  legend  invented  to  deceive  us!"  said  the  su- 
perior, reddening  with  wrath ;  "  but  most  strictly  shall  it  be 
sifted  and  inquired  into ;  it  is  not  upon  us  that  Father  Philip 
must  hope  to  pass  the  result  of  his  own  evil  practices  for 
doings  of  Satan.  To-morrow  cite  the  wench  to  appear  before 
us ;  we  will  examine,  and  we  will  punish. " 

"Under  your  reverence's  favour,"  said  Eustace,  "that  were 
but  poor  policy.  As  things  now  stand  with  us,  the  heretics 
catch  hold  of  each  flying  report  which  tends  to  the  scandal  of 
our  clergy.  We  must  abate  the  evil,  not  only  by  strengthen- 
ing discipline,  but  also  by  suppressing  and  stifling  the  voice 
of  scandal.  If  my  conjectures  are  true,  the  miller's  daughter  ; 
will  be  silent  for  her  own  sake;  and  your  reverence's  author- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


115 


ity  may  also  impose  silence  on  her  father  and  on  the  sacris- 
tan. If  he  is  again  found  to  afford  room  for  throwing  dis- 
honour on  his  order,  he  can  be  punished  with  severity,  but  at 
the  same  time  with  secrecy.  For  what  say  the  Decretals?  Fa- 
cinora  ostendi  dum  punientur,  jiagitia  autem  abscondi  debent" 

A  sentence  of  Latin,  as  Eustace  had  before  observed,  had 
often  much  influence  on  the  abbot,  because  he  understood  it 
not  fluently,  and  was  ashamed  to  acknowledge  his  ignorance. 
On  these  terms  they  parted  for  the  night. 

The  next  day,  Abbot  Boniface  strictly  interrogated  Philip 
on  the  real^cause  of  his  disaster  of  the  previous  night.  But 
the  sacristan  stood  firm  to  his  story ;  nor  was  he  found  to  vary 
from  any  point  of  it,  although  the  answers  he  returned  were 
in  some  degree  incoherent,  owing  to  his  intermingling  with 
them  ever  and  anon  snatches  of  the  strange  damsel's  song, 
which  had  made  such  deep  impression  on  his  imagination  that 
he  could  not  prevent  himself  from  imitating  it  repeatedly  in 
the  course  of  his  examination.  The  abbot  had  compassion 
with  the  sacristan's  involuntary  frailty,  to  which  something 
supernatural  seemed  annexed,  and  finally  became  of  opinion 
that  Father  Eustace's  more  natural  explanation  was  rather 
plausible  than  just.  And,  indeed,  although  we  have  recorded 
the  adventure  as  we  find  it  written  down,  we  cannot  forbear 
to  add  that  there  was  a  schism  on  the  subject  in  the  convent, 
and  that  several  of  the  brethren  pretended  to  have  good  rea- 
son for  thinking  that  the  miller's  black-eyed  daughter  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  affair  after  all.  Whichever  way  it  might 
be  interpreted,  all  agreed  that  it  had  too  ludicrous  a  sound  to 
be,  permitted  to  get  abroad,  and  therefore  the  sacristan  was 
charged,  on  his  vow  of  obedience,  to  say  no  more  of  his  duck- 
ing— an  injunction  which,  having  once  eased  his  mind  by 
telling  his  story,  it  may  be  well  conjectured  that  he  joyfully 
obeyed. 

The  attention  of  Father  Eustace  was  much  less  forcibly 
arrested  by  the  marvellous  tale  of  the  sacristan's  danger 
and  his  escape  than  by  the  mention  of  the  volume  which  he 
had  brought  with  him  from  the  Tower  of  Glendearg.  A  copy 
of  the  Scriptures,  translated  into  the  vulgar  tongue,  had  found 


116 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


its  way  even  into  the  proper  territory  of  the  church,  and  had 
been  discovered  in  one  of  the  most  hidden  and  sequestered 
recesses  of  the  halidome  of  St.  Mary's! 

He  anxiously  requested  to  see  the  volume.  In  this  the  sac- 
ristan was  unable  to  gratify  him,  for  he  had  lost  it,  as  far  as 
he  recollected,  when  the  supernatural  being,  as  he  conceived 
her  to  be,  took  her  departure  from  him.  Father  Eustace  went 
down  to  the  spot  in  person,  and  searched  all  around  it,  in 
hopes  of  recovering  the  volume  in  question ;  but  his  labour 
was  in  vain.  He  returned  to  the  abbot,  and  reported  that  it 
must  have  fallen  into  the  river  or  the  mill-stream;  "For  I 
will  hardly  believe,"  he  said,  "that  Father  Philip's  musical 
friend  would  fly  off  with  a  copy  of  the  Holy  Scriptures." 

"Being,"  said  the  abbot,  "as  it  is,  an  heretical  translation, 
it  may  be  thought  that  Satan  may  have  power  over  it." 

"  Ay, "  said  Father  Eustace,  "  it  is  indeed  his  chief  est  maga- 
zine of  artillery,  when  he  inspireth  presumptuous  and  daring 
men  to  set  forth  their  own  opinions  and  expositions  of  Holy 
Writ.  But  though  thus  abused,  the  Scriptures  are  the  source 
of  our  salvation,  and  are  no  more  to  be  reckoned  unholy,  be- 
cause of  these  rash  men's  proceedings,  than  a  powerful  medi- 
cine is  to  be  contemned,  or  held  poisonous,  because  bold  and 
evil  leeches  have  employed  it  to  the  prejudice  of  their  pa- 
tients. With  the  permission  of  your  reverence,  I  would  that 
this  matter  were  looked  into  more  closely.  I  will  myself  visit 
the  Tower  of  Glendearg  ere  I  am  many  hours  older,  and  we 
shall  see  if  any  spectre  or  white  woman  of  the  wild  will  ven- 
ture to  interrupt  my  journey  or  return.  Have  I  your  rever- 
end permission  and  your  blessing?"  he  added,  but  in  a  tone 
that  appeared  to  set  no  great  store  by  either. 

"Thou  hast  both,  my  brother,"  said  the  abbot;  but  no 
sooner  had  Eustace  left  the  apartment  than  Boniface  could 
not  help  breaking  on  the  willing  ear  of  the  sacristan  his  sin- 
cere wish  that  any  spirit,  black,  white,  or  grey,  would  read 
the  adviser  such  a  lesson  as  to  cure  him  of  his  presumption 
in  esteeming  himself  wiser  than  the  whole  community. 

"  I  wish  him  no  worse  lesson, "  said  the  sacristan,  "  than  to 
go  swimming  merrily  down  the  river  with  a  ghost  behind,  and 


THE  MONASTERY. 


117 


kelpies,  night-crows,  and  mud-eels  all  waiting  to  have  a  snatch 
at  him. 

Merrily  swim  we,  the  moon  shines  bright ! 

Good  luck  to  your  fishing,  whom  watch  you  to-night?  " 

"  Brother  Philip, "  said  the  abbot,  "  we  exhort  thee  to  say 
thy  prayers,  compose  thyself,  and  banish  that  foolish  chant 
from  thy  mind;  it  is  but  a  deception  of  the  devil's." 

"I  will  essay,  reverend  father,"  said  the  sacristan,  "but 
the  tune  hangs  by  my  memory  like  a  burr  in  a  beggar's  rags; 
it  mingles  with  the  psalter;  the  very  bells  of  the  convent 
seem  to  repeat  the  words,  and  jingle  to  the  tune;  and  were 
you  to  put  me  to  death  at  this  very  moment,  it  is  my  belief  I 
should  die  singing  it,  'Now  swim  we  merrily' :  it  is  as  it 
were  a  spell  upon  me." 

He  then  again  began  to  warble 

u  Good  luck  to  your  fishing.' ' 

And  checking  himself  in  the  strain  with  difficulty,  he  ex- 
claimed :  "  It  is  too  certain — I  am  but  a  lost  priest !  *  Swim 
we  merrily' — I  shall  sing  it  at  the  very  mass.  Woe  is  me! 
I  shall  sing  all  the  remainder  of  my  life,  and  yet  never  be 
able  to  change  the  tune." 

The  honest  abbot  replied,  "  He  knew  many  a  good  fellow 
in  the  same  condition" ;  and  concluded  the  remark  with  "  ho ! 
ho!  ho!"  for  his  reverence,  as  the  reader  may  partly  have  ob- 
served, was  one  of  those  dull  folks  who  love  a  quiet  joke. 

The  sacristan,  well  acquainted  with  his  superior's  humour, 
endeavoured  to  join  in  the  laugh,  but  his  unfortunate  canticle 
came  again  across  his  imagination,  and  interrupted  the  hilar- 
ity of  his  customary  echo. 

"  By  the  rood,  Brother  Philip, "  said  the  abbot,  much  moved, 
"  you  become  altogether  intolerable !  and  I  am  convinced  that 
such  a  spell  could  not  subsist  over  a  person  of  religion,  and 
in  a  religious  house,  unless  he  were  under  mortal  sin.  Where- 
fore, say  the  seven  penitentiary  psalms — make  diligent  use 
of  thy  scourge  and  hair-cloth — refrain  for  three  days  from  all 
food,  save  bread  and  water — I  myself  will  shrive  thee,  and  we 
will  see  if  this  singing  devil  may  be  driven  out  of  thee  5  at 


118 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


least  I  think  Father  Eustace  himself  could  deviso  no  better 
exorcism." 

The  sacristan  sighed  deeply,  but  knew  remonstrance  was 
vain.  He  retired  therefore  to  his  cell,  to  try  hov  far  psalm- 
ody might  be  able  to  drive  off  the  sounds  of  the  siren  tune 
which  haunted  his  memory. 

Meanwhile,  Father  Eustace  proceeded  to  the  drawbridge^ 
in  his  way  to  the  lonely  valley  of  Glendearg.  In  a  brief  con- 
versation with  the  churlish  warder,  he  had  the  address  to  ren- 
der him  more  tractable  in  the  controversy  betwixt  him  and 
the  convent.  He  reminded  him  that  his  father  had  been  a 
vassal  under  the  community;  that  his  brother  was  childless; 
and  that  their  possession  would  revert  to  the  church  on  his 
death,  and  might  be  either  granted  to  himself  the  warder,  or 
to  some  greater  favourite  of  the  abbot,  as  matters  chanced  to 
stand  betwixt  them  at  the  time.  The  sub-prior  suggested  to 
him,  also,  the  necessary  connexion  of  interests  betwixt  the 
monastery  and  the  office  which  this  man  enjoyed.  He  lis- 
tened with  temper  to  his  rude  and  churlish  answers ;  and  by 
keeping  his  own  interest  firm  pitched  in  his  view,  he  had  the 
satisfaction  to  find  that  Peter  gradually  softened  his  tone,  and 
consented  to  let  every  pilgrim  who  travelled  upon  foot  pass 
free  of  exaction  until  Pentecost  next ;  they  who  travelled  on 
horseback  or  otherwise  consenting  to  pay  the  ordinary  cus- 
tom. Having  thus  accommodated  a  matter  in  which  the  weal 
of  the  convent  was  so  deeply  interested,  Father  Eustace  pro- 
ceeded on  his  journey. 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

Nay,  dally  not  with  time,  the  wise  man's  treasure, 
Though  fools  are  lavish  on't ;  the  fatal  Fisher 
Hooks  souls,  while  we  waste  moments. 

Old  Play. 

A  November  mist  overspread  the  little  valley,  up  whic" 
slowly  but  steadily  rode  the  monk  Eustace.  He  was  not  in- 
sensible to  the  feeling  of  melancholy  inspired  by  the  scen< 


te 


THE  MONASTERY. 


119 


and  by  the  season.  The  stream  seemed  to  murmur  with  deep 
and  oppressed  note,  as  if  bewailing  the  departure  of  autumn. 
Among  the  scattered  copses  which  here  and  there  fringed  its 
banks,  the  oak-trees  only  retained  that  pallid  green  that  pre- 
cedes their  russet  hue.  The  leaves  of  the  willows  were  most 
of  them  stripped  from  the  branches,  lay  rustling  at  each 
breath,  and  disturbed  by  every  step  of  the  mule ;  while  the 
foliage  of  other  trees,  totally  withered,  kept  still  precarious 
possession  of  the  boughs,  waiting  the  first  wind  to  scatter 
them. 

The  monk  dropped  into  the  natural  train  of  pensive  thought 
which  these  autumnal  emblems  of  mortal  hopes  are  peculiarly 
calculated  to  inspire.  "  There,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  leaves 
which  lay  strewed  around,  "  lie  the  hopes  of  early  youth,  first 
formed  that  they  may  soonest  wither,  and  loveliest  in  spring 
to  become  most  contemptible  in  winter ;  but  you,  ye  lingerers, " 
he  added,  looking  to  a  knot  of  beeches  which  still  bore  their 
withered  leaves — "  you  are  the  proud  plants  of  adventurous 
manhood,  formed  later,  and  still  clinging  to  the  mind  of  age, 
although  it  acknowledges  their  inanity!  None  lasts — none 
endures,  save  the  foliage  of  the  hardy  oak,  which  only  begins 
to  show  itself  when  that  of  the  rest  of  the  forest  has  enjoyed 
half  its  existence.  A  pale  and  decayed  hue  is  all  it  possesses, 
but  still  it  retains  that  symptom  of  vitality  to  the  last.  So 
be  it  with  Father  Eustace !  The  fairy  hopes  of  my  youth  I 
have  trodden  under  foot  like  those  neglected  rustlers ;  to  the 
prouder  dreams  of  my  manhood  I  look  back  as  to  lofty  chim- 
eras, of  which  the  pith  and  essence  have  long  since  faded; 
but  my  religious  vows,  the  faithful  profession  which  I  have 
made  in  my  maturer  age,  shall  retain  life  while  aught  of 
Eustace  lives.  Dangerous  it  may  be — feeble  it  must  be — yet 
live  it  shall,  the  proud  determination  to  serve  the  church  of 
which  I  am  a  member,  and  to  combat  the  heresies  by  which 
she  is  assailed."  Thus  spoke,  at  least  thus  thought,  a  man 
zealous  acccording  to  his  imperfect  knowledge,  confounding 
the  vital  interests  of  Christianity  with  the  extravagant  and 
usurped  claims  of  the  Church  of  Eome,  and  defending  his 
cause  with  ardour  worthy  of  a  better. 


120 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


While  moving  onward  in  this  contemplative  mood,  he  could 
not  help  thinking  more  than  once  that  he  saw  in  his  path  the 
form  of  a  female  dressed  in  white,  who  appeared  in  the  atti- 
tude of  lamentation.  But  the  impression  was  only  momen- 
tary, and  whenever  he  looked  steadily  to  the  point  where  he 
conceived  the  figure  appeared,  it  always  proved  that  he  had 
mistaken  some  natural  object — a  white  crag,  or  the  trunk  of 
a  decayed  birch-tree  with  its  silver  bark — for  the  appearance 
in  question. 

Father  Eustace  had  dwelt  too  long  in  Eome  to  partake  the 
superstitious  feelings  of  the  more  ignorant  Scottish  clergy ;  yet 
he  certainly  thought  it  extraordinary  that  so  strong  an  impres- 
sion should  have  been  made  on  his  mind  by  the  legend  of  the 
sacristan.  "It  is  strange, "  he  said  to  himself,  "that  this 
story,  which  doubtless  was  the  invention  of  Brother  Philip  to 
cover  his  own  impropriety  of  conduct,  should  run  so  much 
in  my  head,  and  disturb  my  more  serious  thoughts:  I  am 
wont,  I  think,  to  have  more  command  over  my  senses.  I 
will  repeat  my  prayers,  and  banish  such  folly  from  my  recol- 
lection." 

The  monk  accordingly  began  with  devotion  to  tell  his  beads, 
in  pursuance  of  the  prescribed  rule  of  his  order,  and  was  not 
again  disturbed  by  any  wanderings  of  the  imagination,  until 
he  found  himself  beneath  the  little  fortalice  of  Glendearg. 

Dame  Glendinning,  who  stood  at  the  gate,  set  up  a  shout 
of  surprise  and  joy  at  seeing  the  good  father.  "Martin,"  she 
said — "  Jasper,  where  be  a?  the  folk?  Help  the  right  rever- 
end sub-prior  to  dismount,  and  take  his  mule  from  him.  0 
father !  God  has  sent  you  in  our  need.  I  was  just  going  to 
send  man  and  horse  to  the  convent,  though  I  ought  to  be 
ashamed  to  give  so  much  trouble  to  your  reverences." 

"  Our  trouble  matters  not,  good  dame,"  said  Father  Eustace; 
"  in  what  can  I  pleasure  you?  I  came  hither  to  visit  the  Lady 
of  Avenel." 

"  Well-a-day !"  said  Dame  Elspeth,  "  and  it  was  on  her  part 
that  I  had  the  boldness  to  think  of  summoning  you,  for  the 
good  lady  will  never  be  able  to  wear  over  the  day !  Would  it 
please  you  to  go  to  her  chamber?" 


THE  MONASTERY. 


121 


"Hath  she  not  been  shriven  by  Father  Philip?"  said  the 
monk. 

"  Shriven  she  was,"  said  the  Dame  of  Glendearg,  "and  by 
Father  Philip,  as  your  reverence  truly  says ;  but — I  wish  it 
may  have  a  clean  shrift.  Methought  Father  Philip  looked 
but  moody  upon  it ;  and  there  was  a  book  which  he  took  away 
with  him,  that  "    She  paused,  as  if  unwilling  to  proceed. 

"Speak  out,  Dame  Glendinning, "  said  the  father;  "with 
us  it  is  your  duty  to  have  no  secrets." 

"  Xay,  if  it  please  your  reverence,  it  is  not  that  I  would 
keep  anything  from  your  reverence's  knowledge,  but  I  fear  I 
should  prejudice  the  lady  in  your  opinion;  for  she  is  an  excel- 
lent lady — months  and  years  has  she  dwelt  in  this  tower,  and 
none  more  exemplary  than  she ;  but  this  matter,  doubtless  she 
will  explain  it  herself  to  your  reverence." 

"  I  desire  first  to  know  it  from  you,  Dame  Glendinning, "  said 
the  monk ;  "  and  I  again  repeat,  it  is  your  duty  to  tell  it  to  me. " 

"  This  book,  if  it  please  your  reverence,  which  Father  Philip 
removed  from  Glendearg,  was  this  morning  returned  to  us  in 
a  strange  manner,"  said  the  good  widow. 

"Returned!"  said  the  monk.    "  How  mean  you?" 

"I  mean,"  answered  Dame  Glendinning,  "that  it  was 
brought  back  to  the  Tower  of  Glendearg,  the  saints  best  know 
how — that  same  book  which  Father  Philip  carried  with  him 
but  yesterday.  Old  Martin,  that  is  my  tasker  and  the  lady's 
servant,  was  driving  out  the  cows  to  the  pasture — for  we  have 
three  good  milk-cows,  reverend  father,  blessed  be  St.  Wald- 
have,  and  thanks  to  the  holy  monastery  " 

The  monk  groaned  with  impatience;  but  he  remembered 
that  a  woman  of  the  good  dame's  condition  was  like  a  top, 
which,  if  you  let  it  spin  on  untouched,  must  at  last  come  to  a 
pause ;  but,  if  you  interrupt  it  by  flogging,  there  is  no  end  to 
its  gyrations.  "  But  to  speak  no  more  of  the  cows,  your  reve- 
rence, though  they  are  likely  cattle  as  ever  were  tied  to  a  stake, 
the  tasker  was  driving  them  out,  and  the  lads,  that  is  my  Hal- 
bert  and  my  Edward,  that  your  reverence  has  seen  at  church 
on  holidays,  and  especially  Halbert — for  you  patted  him  on 
the  head,  and  gave  him  a  brooch  of  St.  Cuthbert,  which  he 


122 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


wears  in  his  bonnet — and  little  Mary  Avenel,  that  is  the 
lady's  daughter,  they  ran  all  after  the  cattle,  and  began  to 
play  up  and  down  the  pasture  as  young  folk  will,  your  rever- 
ence. And  at  length  they  lost  sight  of  Martin  and  the  cows  ; 
and  they  began  to  run  up  a  little  cleuch  which  we  call  Corrie- 
nan-Shian,  where  there  is  a  wee  bit  stripe  of  a  burn,  and  they 
saw  there — God  guide  us! — a  white  woman  sitting  on  the 
burn-side  wringing  her  hands ;  so  the  bairns  were  frightened 
to  see  a  strange  woman  sitting  there — all  but  Halbert,  who 
will  be  sixteen  come  Whitsuntide — and,  besides,  he  never 
feared  ony  thing — and  when  they  went  up  to  her — behold  she 
was  passed  away!" 

"For  shame,  good  woman!"  said  Father  Eustace;  "a  wo- 
man of  your  sense  to  listen  to  a  tale  so  idle !  The  young  folk 
told  you  a  lie,  and  that  was  all." 

"  Nay,  sir,  it  was  more  than  that, 99  said  the  old  dame ;  "  for, 
besides  that  they  never  told  me  a  lie  in  their  lives,  I  must  warn 
you  that  on  the  very  ground  where  the  white  woman  was  sit- 
ting they  found  the  Lady  of  Avenel's  book,  and  brought  it 
with  them  to  the  tower. " 

"  That  is  worthy  of  mark  at  least, 99  said  the  monk.  "  Know 
you  no  other  copy  of  this  volume  within  these  bounds?" 

"None,  your  reverence,"  returned  Elspeth;  "why  should 
there?  no  one  could  read  it  were  there  twenty." 

"  Then  you  are  sure  it  is  the  very  same  volume  which  you 
gave  to  Father  Philip?"  said  the  monk. 

"  As  sure  as  that  I  now  speak  with  your  reverence. " 

"  It  is  most  singular !"  said  the  monk ;  and  he  walked  across 
the  room  in  a  musing  posture. 

"  I  have  been  upon  nettles  to  hear  what  your  reverence 
would  say,"  continued  Dame  Glendinning,  "respecting  this 
matter.  There  is  nothing  I  would  not  do  for  the  Lady  of 
Avenel  and  her  family,  and  that  has  been  proved,  and  for  her 
servants  to  boot,  both  Martin  and  Tibb,  although  Tibb  is  not 
so  civil  sometimes  as  altogether  I  have  a  right  to  expect ;  but 
I  cannot  think  it  beseeming  to  have  angels,  or  ghosts,  or  fair- 
ies, or  the  like,  waiting  upon  a  leddy  when  she  is  in  another 
woman's  house,  in  respect  it  is  no  ways  creditable.  Ony 


THE  MONASTEBY.  123 

thing  she  had  to  do  was  always  done  to  her  hand,  without 
costing  her  either  pains  or  pence,  as  a  country  body  says; 
and,  besides  the  discredit,  I  cannot  but  think  that  there  is  no 
safety  in  having  such  unchancy  creatures  about  me.  But  I 
have  tied  red  thread  round  the  bairns'  throats  (so  her  fond- 
ness still  called  thern),  and  given  ilk  ane  of  them  a  riding- 
wand  of  rowan-tree,  forbye  sewing  up  a  slip  of  witch-elm  into 
their  doublets ;  and  I  wish  to  know  of  your  reverence  if  there 
by  ony  thing  mair  that  a  lone  woman  can  do  in  the  matter  of 

ghosts  and  fairies  ?   be  here !  that  I  should  have  named 

their  unlucky  names  twice  ower!" 

"  Dame  Glendinning, "  answered  the  monk,  somewhat  abrupt- 
ly, when  the  good  woman  had  finished  her  narrative,  "  I  pray 
you,  do  you  know  the  miller's  daughter?" 

"  Did  I  know  Kate  Happer?"  replied  the  widow;  "as  weel 
as  the  beggar  knows  his  dish — a  canty  quean  was  Kate,  and 
a  special  cummer  of  my  ain  may  be  twenty  years  syne." 

"  She  cannot  be  the  wench  I  mean, "  said  Father  Eustace : 
"  she  after  whom  I  inquire  is  scarce  fifteen,  a  black-eyed  girl ; 
you'  may  have  seen  her  at  the  kirk. " 

"Your  reverence  must  be  in  the  right;  and  she  is  my  cum- 
mer's niece,  doubtless,  that  you  are  pleased  to  speak  of.  But 
I  thank  God  I  have  always  been  too  duteous  in  attention  to 
the  mass  to  know  whether  young  wenches  have  black  eyes  or 
green  ones." 

The  good  father  had  so  much  of  the  world  about  him  that 
he  was  unable  to  avoid  smiling  when  the  dame  boasted  her 
absolute  resistance  to  a  temptation  which  was  not  quite  so 
liable  to  beset  her  as  those  of  the  other  sex. 

"Perhaps,  then,"  he  said,  "you  know  her  usual  dress, 
Dame  Glendinning?" 

"Ay,  ay,  father,"  answered  the  dame  readily  enough,  "a 
white  kirtle  the  wench  wears,  to  hide  the  dust  of  the  mill  no 
doubt ;  and  a  blue  hood,  that  might  weel  be  spared,  for  pride- 
fulness." 

"Then,  may  it  not  be  she,"  said  the  father,  "who  ha*Q 
brought  back  this  book,  and  stepped  out  of  the  way  when  the 
children  came  near  her?" 


124 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


The  dame  paused,  was  unwilling  to  combat  the  solution 
suggested  by  the  monk,  but  was  at  a  loss  to  conceive  why  the 
lass  of  the  mill  should  come  so  far  from  home  into  so  wild  a 
corner,  merely  to  leave  an  old  book  with  three  children,  from 
whose  observation  she  wished  to  conceal  herself.  Above  all, 
she  could  not  understand  why,  since  she  had  acquaintances  in 
the  family,  and  since  the  Dame  Glendinning  had  always  paid 
her  multure  and  knaveship  duly,  the  said  lass  of  the  mill  had 
not  come  in  to  rest  herself  and  eat  a  morsel,  and  tell  her  the 
current  news  of  the  water. 

These  very  objections  satisfied  the  monk  that  his  conjectures 
were  right.  "  Dame, "  he  said,  "  you  must  be  cautious  in  what 
you  say.  This  is  an  instance — I  would  it  were  the  sole  one — 
of  the  power  of  the  Enemy  in  these  days.  The  matter  must 
be  sifted  with  a  curious  and  careful  hand." 

"  Indeed, "  said  Elspeth,  trying  to  catch  and  chime  in  with 
the  ideas  of  the  sub-prior,  "  I  have  often  thought  the  miller's 
folk  at  the  monastery  mill  were  far  over  careless  in  sifting 
our  melder,  and  in  bolting  it  too ;  some  folk  say  they  will  not 
stick  at  whiles  to  put  in  a  handful  of  ashes  amongst  Christian 
folks'  corn-meal." 

"  That  shall  be  looked  after  also,  dame, "  said  the  sub-prior, 
not  displeased  to  see  that  the  good  old  woman  went  off  on  a 
false  scent ;  "  and  now,  by  your  leave,  I  will  see  this  lady ;  do 
you  go  before,  and  prepare  her  to  see  me." 

Dame  Glendinning  left  the  lower  apartment  accordingly, 
which  the  monk  paced  in  anxious  reflection,  considering  how 
he  might  best  discharge,  with  humanity  as  well  as  with  effect, 
the  important  duty  imposed  on  him.  He  resolved  to  approach 
the  bedside  of  ohe  sick  person  with  reprimands,  mitigated  only 
by  a  feeling  for  her  weak  condition ;  he  determined,  in  case 
of  her  reply,  to  which  late  examples  of  hardened  heretics 
might  encourage  her,  to  be  prepared  with  answers  to  their 
customary  scruples.  High  fraught,  also,  with  zeal  against 
her  unauthorised  intrusion  into  the  priestly  function,  by  study 
of  the  Sacred  Scriptures,  he  imagined  to  himself  the  answers 
which  one  of  the  modern  school  of  heresy  might  return  to  him ; 
the  victorious  refutation  which  should  lay  the  disputant  pros- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


125 


trate  at  the  confessor's  mercy;  and  the  healing,  yet  awful  ex- 
hortation, which,  under  pain  of  refusing  the  last  consolations 
of  religion,  he  designed  to  make  to  the  penitent,  conjuring 
her,  as  she  loved  her  own  soul's  welfare,  to  disclose  to  him 
what  she  knew  of  the  dark  mystery  of  iniquity  by  which  here- 
sies were  introduced  into  the  most  secluded  spots  of  the  very 
patrimony  of  the  church  herself ;  what  agents  they  had  who 
could  thus  glide,  as  it  were  unseen,  from  place  to  place,  bring 
back  the  volume  which  the  church  had  interdicted  to  the 
spots  from  which  it  had  been  removed  under  her  express  au- 
spices ;  and  who,  by  encouraging  the  daring  and  profane  thirst 
after  knowledge  forbidden  and  useless  to  the  laity,  had  en- 
couraged the  Fisher  of  souls  to  use  with  effect  his  old  bait  of 
ambition  and  vainglory. 

Much  of  this  premeditated  disputation  escaped  the  good 
father  when  Elspeth  returned,  her  tears  flowing  faster  than 
her  apron  could  dry  them,  and  made  him  a  signal  to  follow 
her.  "How,"  said  the  monk,  " is  she  then  so  near  her  end? 
Nay,  the  church  must  not  break  or  bruise,  when  comfort  is 
yet  possible";  and,  forgetting  his  polemics,  the  good  sub- 
prior  hastened  to  the  little  apartment  where,  on  the  wretched 
bed  which  she  had  occupied  since  her  misfortunes  had  driven 
her  to  the  Tower  of  Glendearg,  the  widow  of  Walter  Avenel 
had  rendered  up  her  spirit  to  her  Creator.  "My  God!"  said 
the  sub-prior,  "  and  has  my  unfortunate  dallying  suffered  her 
to  depart  without  the  church's  consolation!  Look  to  her, 
dame, "  he  exclaimed  with  eager  impatience ;  "  is  there  not  yet 
a  sparkle  of  the  life  left?  may  she  not  be  recalled — recalled 
but  for  a  moment?  Oh!  would  that  she  could  express,  but 
by  the  most  imperfect  word,  but  by  the  most  feeble  motion, 
her  acquiescence  in  the  needful  task  of  penitential  prayer! 
Does  she  not  breathe?    Art  thou  sure  she  doth  not?" 

"  She  will  never  breathe  more,"  said  the  matron.  "  Oh!  the 
poor  fatherless  girl — now  motherless  also !  Oh,  the  kind  com- 
panion I  have  had  these  many  years,  whom  I  shall  never  see 
again !  But  she  is  in  Heaven  for  certain,  if  ever  woman  went 
there ;  for  a  woman  of  better  life  " 

"  Woe  to  me,"  said  the  good  monk,  "  if  indeed  she  went  not 


126 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


hence  in  good  assurance ;  woe  to  the  reckless  shepherd,  who 
suffered  the  wolf  to  carry  a  choice  one  from  the  flock,  while 
he  busied  himself  with  trimming  his  sling  and  his  staff  to 
give  the  monster  battle !  Oh !  if  in  the  long  Hereafter  aught 
but  weal  should  that  poor  spirit  share,  what  has  my  delay 
cost?  the  value  of  an  immortal  soul!" 

Pie  then  approached  the  body,  full  of  the  deep  remorse  nat- 
ural to  a  good  man  of  his  persuasion,  who  devoutly  believed 
the  doctrines  of  the  Catholic  Church.  "  Ay,"  said  he,  gazing 
on  the  pallid  corpse,  from  which  the  spirit  had  parted  so 
placidly  as  to  leave  a  smile  upon  the  thin  blue  lips,  which  had 
been  so  long  wasted  by  decay  that  they  had  parted  with  the 
last  breath  of  animation  without  the  slightest  convulsive  tre- 
mor— "ay,"  said  Father  Eustace,  " there  lies  the  faded  tree, 
and  as  it  fell  so  it  lies — awful  thought  for  me,  should  my 
neglect  have  left  it  to  descend  in  an  evil  direction!"  He  then 
again  and  again  conjured  Dame  Glendinning  to  tell  him  what 
she  knew  of  the  demeanour  and  ordinary  walk  of  the  deceased. 

All  tended  to  the  high  honour  of  the  deceased  lady ;  for  her 
companion,  who  admired  her  sufficiently  while  alive,  notwith- 
standing some  trifling  points  of  jealousy,  now  idolised  her  after 
her  death,  and  could  think  of  no  attribute  of  praise  with  which 
she  did  not  adorn  her  memory. 

Indeed,  the  Lady  of  Avenel,  however  she  might  privately 
doubt  some  of  the  doctrines  announced  by  the  Church  of 
Eome,  and  although  she  had  probably  tacitly  appealed  from 
that  corrupted  system  of  Christianity  to  the  volume  on  which 
Christianity  itself  is  founded,  had  nevertheless  been  regular 
in  her  attendance  on  the  worship  of  the  church,  not,  perhaps, 
extending  her  scruples  so  far  as  to  break  off  communion. 
Such,  indeed,  was  the  first  sentiment  of  the  earlier  reformers, 
who  seem  to  have  studied,  for  a  time  at  least,  to  avoid  a 
schism,  until  the  violence  of  the  Pope  rendered  it  inevitable. 

Father  Eustace,  on  the  present  occasion,  listened  with  eag- 
erness to  everything  which  could  lead  to  assure  him  of  the 
lady's  orthodoxy  in  the  main  points  of  belief;  for  his  con- 
science reproached  him  sorely  that,  instead  of  protracting 
conversation  with  the  Dame  of  Glendearg,  he  had  not  instant- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


127 


ly  hastened  where  his  presence  was  so  necessary.  "If,"  he 
said,  addressing  the  dead  body,  "  thou  art  yet  free  from  the 
utmost  penalty  due  to  the  followers  of  false  doctrine ;  if  thou 
dost  but  suffer  for  a  time,  to  expiate  faults  done  in  the  body, 
but  partaking  of  mortal  frailty  more  than  of  deadly  sin,  fear 
not  that  thy  abode  shall  be  long  in  the  penal  regions  to  which 
thou  may  est  be  doomed — if  vigils,  if  masses,  if  penance,  if 
maceration  of  my  body  till  it  resembles  that  extenuated  form 
which  the  soul  hath  abandoned,  may  assure  thy  deliverance. 
The  Holy  Church,  the  godly  foundation,  our  blessed  patroness 
herself,  shall  intercede  for  one  whose  errors  were  counterbal- 
anced by  so  many  virtues.  Leave  me,  dame;  here,  and  by 
her  bedside,  will  I  perform  those  duties  which  this  piteous 
case  demands!" 

Elspeth  left  the  monk,  who  employed  himself  in  fervent 
and  sincere,  though  erroneous,  prayers  for  the  weal  of  the  de- 
parted spirit.  For  an  hour  he  remained  in  the  apartment  of 
death,  and  then  returned  to  the  hall,  where  he  found  the  still 
weeping  friend  of  the  deceased. 

But  it  would  be  injustice  to  Mrs.  Elspeth  Glendinning's 
hospitality  if  we  suppose  her  to  have  been  weeping  during 
this  long  interval,  or  rather,  if  we  suppose  her  so  entirely  ab- 
sorbed by  the  tribute  of  sorrow  which  she  paid  frankly  and 
plentifully  to  her  deceased  friend,  as  to  be  incapable  of  at- 
tending to  the  rites  of  hospitality  due  to  the  holy  visitor,  who 
was  confessor  at  once  and  sub-prior,  mighty  in  all  religious 
and  secular  considerations,  so  far  as  the  vassals  of  the  monas- 
tery were  interested. 

Her  barley-bread  had  been  toasted,  her  choicest  cask  of 
home-brewed  ale  had  been  broached,  her  best  butter  had  been 
placed  on  the  hall  table,  along  with  her  most  savoury  ham 
and  her  choicest  cheese,  ere  she  abandoned  herself  to  the  ex- 
tremity of  sorrow ;  and  it  was  not  till  she  had  arranged  her 
little  repast  neatly  on  the  board  that  she  sat  down  in  the 
chimney-corner,  threw  her  checked  apron  over  her  head,  and 
gave  way  to  the  current  of  tears  and  sobs.  In  this  there  was 
no  grimace  or  affectation.  The  good  dame  held  the  honours 
of  her  house  to  be  as  essential  a  duty,  especially  when  a  monk 


128 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


was  her  visitant,  as  any  other  pressing  call  upon  her  com 
science ;  nor  until  these  were  suitably  attended  to  did  she  find 
herself  at  liberty  to  indulge  her  sorrow  for  her  departed  friend. 

When  she  was  conscious  of  the  sub-prior's  presence,  she  rose 
with  the  same  attention  to  his  reception ;  but  he  declined  all 
the  offers  of  hospitality  with  which  she  endeavoured  to  tempt 
him.  Not  her  butter,  as  yellow  as  gold,  and  the  best,  she 
assured  him,  that  was  made  in  the  patrimony  of  St.  Mary; 
not  the  barley-scones,  which  "the  departed  saint,  God  sain 
her !  used  to  say  were  so  good" ;  not  the  ale,  nor  any  other 
cates  which  poor  Elspeth's  stores  afforded,  could  prevail  on  the 
sub-prior  to  break  his  fast. 

"This  day,"  he  said,  "I  must  not  taste  food  until  the  sun 
go  down — happy  if,  in  so  doing,  I  can  expiate  my  own  negli- 
gence; happier  still,  if  my  sufferings  of  this  trifling  nature, 
undertaken  in  pure  faith  and  singleness  of  heart,  may  benefit 
the  soul  of  the  deceased.  Yet,  dame, "  he  added,  "  I  may  not 
so  far  forget  the  living  in  my  cares  for  the  dead  as  to  leave 
behind  me  that  book,  which  is  to  the  ignorant  what  to  our 
first  parents  the  tree  of  Knowledge  of  Good  and  Evil  unhap- 
pily proved — excellent  indeed  in  itself,  but  fatal  because  used 
by  those  to  whom  it  is  prohibited." 

"Oh,  blythely,  reverend  father,"  said  the  widow  of  Simon 
Glendinning,  "  will  I  give  you  the  book,  if  so  be  I  can  wile  it 
from  the  bairns;  and  indeed,  poor  things,  as  the  case  stands 
with  them  even  now,  you  might  take  the  heart  out  of  their 
bodies,  and  they  never  find  it  out,  they  are  sae  begrutten." 

"Give  them  this  missal  instead,  good  dame,"  said  the 
father,  drawing  from  his  pocket  one  which  was  curiously  illu- 
minated with  paintings,  "  and  I  will  come  myself,  or  send  one 
at  a  fitting  time,  and  teach  them  the  meaning  of  these  pic- 
tures." 

"The  bonny  images!"  said  Dame  Glendinning,  forgetting 
for  an  instant  her  grief  in  her  admiration;  "and  weel  I  wot," 
added  she,  "  it  is  another  sort  of  a  book  than  the  poor  Lady 
of  Avenel's;  and  blessed  might  we  have  been  this  day  if  your 
reverence  had  found  the  way  up  the  glen  instead  of  Fathe 
Philip,  though  the  sacristan  is  a  powerful  man  too,  an( 


THE  MONASTERY. 


129 


speaks  as  if  he  would  gar  the  house  fly  abroad,  save  that  the 
walls  are  gey  thick.  Simon's  forbears — may  he  and  they  be 
blessed! — took  care  of  that." 

The  monk  ordered  his  mule,  and  was  about  ^o  take  his 
leave;  and  the  good  dame  was  still  delaying  him  with  ques- 
tions about  the  funeral,  when  a  horseman,  armed  and  ac- 
coutred, rode  into  the  little  courtyard  which  surrounded  the 
keep. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

For  since  they  rode  among  our  doors 
With  splent  on  spauld  and  rusty  spurs, 
There  grows  no  fruit  into  our  furs  ; 

Thus  said  John  Up-on-land. 

Bannatyne  MS. 

The  Scottish  laws,  which  were  as  wisely  and  judiciously 
made  as  they  were  carelessly  and  ineffectually  executed,  had 
in  vain  endeavoured  to  restrain  the  damage  done  to  agriculture 
by  the  chiefs  and  landed  proprietors  retaining  in  their  service 
what  were  called  jack-men,  from  the  "  jack,"  or  doublet  quilted 
with  iron,  which  they  wore  as  defensive  armour.  These  mili- 
tary retainers  conducted  themselves  with  great  insolence  to- 
wards the  industrious  part  of  the  community,  lived  in  a  great 
measure  by  plunder,  and  were  ready  to  execute  any  commands 
of  their  master,  however  unlawful.  In  adopting  this  mode  of 
life,  men  resigned  the  quiet  hopes  and  regular  labours  of  in- 
dustry for  an  unsettled,  precarious,  and  dangerous  trade, 
which  yet  had  such  charms  for  those  once  accustomed  to  it 
that  they  became  incapable  of  following  any  other.  Hence 
the  complaint  of  John  Upland,  a  fictitious  character,  repre- 
senting a  countryman,  into  whose  mouth  the  poets  of  the  day 
put  their  general  satires  upon  men  and  manners : 

They  ride  about  in  such  a  rage 
By  forest,  firth,  and  field, 

With  buckler,  bow,  and  brand. 
Lo!  where  they  ride  out  through  the  rye! 
The  Devil  mot  save  the  company, 

Quoth  John  Up-on-land. 

9 


130 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Christie  of  the  Clinthill,  the  horseman  who  now  arrived  at 
the  little  Tower  of  Glendearg,  was  one  of  the  hopeful  com- 
pany of  whom  the  poet  complains,  as  was  indicated  by  his 
"  splent  on  spauld "  (iron-plates  on  his  shoulder),  his  rusted 
spurs,  and  his  long  lance.  An  iron  skull-cap,  none  of  the 
brightest,  bore  for  distinction  a  sprig  of  the  holly,  which  was 
AvenePs  badge.  A  long  two-edged  straight  sword,  having  a 
handle  made  of  polished  oak,  hung  down  by  his  side.  The 
meagre  condition  of  his  horse,  and  the  wild  and  emaciated 
look  of  the  rider,  showed  their  occupation  could  not  be  ac- 
counted an  easy  or  a  thriving  one.  He  saluted  Dame  Glen- 
dinning  with  little  courtesy,  and  the  monk  with  less ;  for  the 
growing  disrespect  to  the  religious  orders  had  not  failed  to  ex- 
tend itself  among  a  class  of  men  of  such  disorderly  habits,  al- 
though it  may  be  supposed  they  were  tolerably  indifferent  alike 
to  the  new  or  the  ancient  doctrines. 

"  So,  our  lady  is  dead,  Dame  Glendinning?"  said  the  jack- 
man.  "  My  master  has  sent  you  even  now  a  fat  bullock  for 
her  mart ;  it  may  serve  for  her  funeral.  I  have  left  him  in 
the  upper  cleuch,  as  he  is  somewhat  kenspeckle,  and  is  marked 
both  with  cut  and  birn ;  the  sooner  the  skin  is  off,  and  he  is  in 
sault-fat,  the  less  like  you  are  to  have  trouble — you  understand 
me?  Let  me  have  a  peck  of  corn  for  my  horse,  and  beef  and 
beer  for  myself,  for  I  must  go  on  to  the  monastery — though  I 
think  this  monk  here  might  do  mine  errand." 

"Thine  errand,  rude  man!"  said  the  sub-prior,  knitting  his 
brows  

"For  God's  sake!"  cried  poor  Dame  Glendinning,  terrified 
at  the  idea  of  a  quarrel  between  them.  "  Oh,  Christie !  it  is 
the  sub-prior — oh,  reverend  sir,  it  is  Christie  of  the  Clinthill, 
the  laird's  chief  jack-man;  ye  know  that  little  havings  can  be 
expected  from  the  like  o?  them." 

"  Are  you  a  retainer  of  the  Laird  of  Avenel?"  said  the  monk, 
addressing  himself  to  the  horseman,  "  and  do  you  speak  thus 
rudely  to  a  brother  of  St.  Mary's,  to  whom  thy  master  is  so 
much  beholden?" 

"  He  means  to  be  yet  more  beholden  to  your  house,  sir 
monk,"  answered  the  fellow ;  "for,  hearing  his  sister-in-law, 


THE  MONASTERY. 


131 


the  widow  of  Walter  of  Avenel,  was  on  her  death-bed,  he  sent 
me  to  say  to  the  father  abbot  and  the  brethren  that  he  will 
hold  the  fnneral-feast  at  their  convent,  and  invites  himself 
thereto,  with  a  score  of  horse,  and  some  friends,  and  to  abide 
there  for  three  days  and  three  nights,  having  horse-meat  and 
nien's-meat  at  the  charge  of  the  community;  of  which  his  in- 
tention he  sends  due  notice,  that  fitting  preparation  may  be 
timeously  made." 

"  Friend, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  believe  not  that  I  will  do 
to  the  father  abbot  the  indignity  of  delivering  such  an  errand. 
Think' st  thou  the  goods  of  the  church  were  bestowed  upon  her 
by  holy  princes  and  pious  nobles,  now  dead  and  gone,  to  be 
consumed  in  revelry  by  every  profligate  layman  who  numbers 
in  his  train  more  followers  than  he  can  support  by  honest 
means,  or  by  his  own  incomings?  Tell  thy  master,  from  the 
sub-prior  of  St.  Mary's,  that  the  Primate  hath  issued  his  com- 
mands to  us  that  we  submit  no  longer  to  this  compulsory  ex- 
action of  hospitality  on  slight  or  false  pretences.  Our  lands 
and  goods  were  given  to  relieve  pilgrims  and  pious  persons, 
not  to  feast  bands  of  rude  soldiers." 

"This  to  me!"  said  the  angry  spearman — "this  to  me  and 
to  my  master !  Look  to  yourself  then,  sir  priest,  and  try  if 
ave  and  credo  will  keep  bullocks  from  wandering  and  hay- 
stacks from  burning." 

"Dost  thou  menace  the  Holy  Church's  patrimony  with 
waste  and  fire-raising,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "  and  that  in  the 
face  of  the  sun?  I  call  on  all  who  hear  me  to  bear  witness  to 
the  words  this  ruffian  has  spoken.  Eemember  how  the  Lord 
James  drowned  such  as  you  by  scores  in  the  black  pool  at 
Jeddart.  To  him  and  to  the  Primate  will  I  complain. "  The 
soldier  shifted  the  position  of  his  lance,  and  brought  it  down 
to  a  level  with  the  monk's  body. 

Dame  Glendinning  began  to  shriek  for  assistance.  "  Tibb 
Tacket!  Martin!  where  be  ye  all?  Christie,  for  the  love  of 
God,  consider  he  is  a  man  of  Holy  Kirk!" 

"I  care  not  for  his  spear,"  said  the  sub-prior;  "if  I  am 
slain  in  defending  the  rights  and  privileges  of  my  community, 
the  Primate  will  know  how  to  take  vengeance." 


132 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Let  him  look  to  himself, "  said  Christie,  but  at  the  same 
time  depositing  his  lance  against  the  wall  of  the  tower ;  "  if 
the  Fife  men  spoke  true  who  came  hither  with  the  governor 
in  the  last  raid,  Norman  Leslie  has  him  at  feud,  and  is  like  to 
set  him  hard.  We  know  Norman  a  true  bloodhound,  who  will 
never  quit  the  slot.  But  I  had  no  design  to  offend  the  holy 
father,"  he  added,  thinking  perhaps  he  had  gone  a  little  too 
far ;  "  T  am  a  rude  man,  bred  to  lance  and  stirrup,  and  not 
used  to  deal  with  book-learned  men  and  priests;  and  I  am 
willing  to  ask  his  forgiveness  and  his  blessing  if  I  have  said 
aught  amiss." 

"For  God's  sake,  your  reverence,"  said  the  widow  of  Glen- 
dearg  apart  to  the  sub- prior,  "bestow  on  him  your  forgive- 
ness; how  shall  we  poor  folk  sleep  in  security  in  the  dark 
nights,  if  the  convent  is  at  feud  with  such  men  as  he  is?" 

"You  are  right,  dame,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "your  safety 
should,  and  must,  be  in  the  first  instance  consulted.  Soldier,  I 
forgive  thee,  and  may  God  bless  thee,  and  send  thee  honesty!" 

Christie  of  the  Clin  thill  made  an  unwilling  inclination  with 
his  head,  and  muttered  apart,  "  That  is  as  much  as  to  say, 
'God  send  thee  starvation.'  But  now  to  my  master's  demand, 
sir  priest?    What  answer  am  I  to  return?" 

"  That  the  body  of  the  widow  of  Walter  of  Avenel, "  an- 
swered the  father,  "  shall  be  interred  as  becomes  her  rank,  and 
in  the  tomb  of  her  valiant  husband.  For  your  master's  prof- 
fered visit  of  three  days,  with  such  a  company  and  retinue,  I 
have  no  authority  to  reply  to  it ;  you  must  intimate  your  chief's 
purpose  to  the  reverend  lord  abbot. " 

"  That  will  cost  me  a  farther  ride, "  said  the  man,  "  but  it  is 
all  in  the  day's  work.  How  now,  my  lad,"  said  he  to  Hal- 
bert,  who  was  handling  the  long  lance  which  he  had  laid 
aside;  "how  do  you  like  such  a  plaything?  Will  you  go 
with  me,  and  be  a  moss-trooper?" 

"The  saints  in  their  mercy  forbid!"  said  the  poor  mother; 
and  then,  afraid  of  having  displeased  Christie  by  the  vivacity 
of  her  exclamation,  she  followed  it  up  by  explaining  that  since 
Simon's  death  she  could  not  look  on  a  spear  or  a  bow,  or  any 
implement  of  destruction,  without  trembling. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


133 


"Pshaw!"  answered  Christie,  "thou  shouldst  take  another 
husband,  dame,  and  drive  such  follies  out  of  thy  thoughts; 
what  says  thou  to  such  a  strapping  lad  as  I?  Why,  this  old 
tower  of  thine  is  fencible  enough,  and  there  is  no  want  of 
cleuchs,  and  crags,  and  bogs,  and  thickets,  if  one  was  set 
hard;  a  man  might  bide  here,  and  keep  his  half -score  of  lads, 
and  as  many  geldings,  and  live  on  what  he  could  lay  his  hand 
on,  and  be  kind  to  thee,  old  wench. " 

"  Alas !  Master  Christie, "  said  the  matron,  "  that  you  should 
talk  to  a  lone  woman  in  such  a  fashion,  and  death  in  the  house 
besides!" 

"Lone  woman!  why,  that  is  the  very  reason  thou  shouldst 
take  a  mate.  Thy  old  friend  is  dead,  why,  good — choose  thou 
another  of  somewhat  tougher  frame,  and  that  will  not  die  of 

the  pip  like  a  young  chicken.    Better  still   Come,  dame, 

let  me  have  something  to  eat,  and  we  will  talk  more  of  this." 

Dame  Elspeth,  though  she  well  knew  the  character  of  the 
man,  whom  in  fact  she  both  disliked  and  feared,  could  not 
help  simpering  at  the  personal  address  which  he  thought  prop- 
er to  make  to  her.  She  whispered  to  the  sub-prior,  "  Ony 
thing  just  to  keep  him  quiet,"  and  went  into  the  tower  to  set 
before  the  soldier  the  food  he  desired,  trusting,  betwixt  good 
cheer  and  the  power  of  her  own  charms,  to  keep  Christie  of 
the  Clinthill  so  well  amused  that  the  altercation  betwixt  him 
and  the  holy  father  should  not  be  renewed. 

The  sub-prior  was  equally  unwilling  to  hazard  any  unneces- 
sary rupture  between  the  community  and  such  a  person  as 
Julian  of  Avenel.  He  was  sensible  that  moderation,  as  well 
as  firmness,  was  necessary  to  support  the  tottering  cause  of 
the  Church  of  Rome ;  and  that,  contrary  to  former  times,  the 
quarrels  betwixt  the  clergy  and  laity  had,  in  the  present,  usu- 
ally terminated  to  the  advantage  of  the  latter.  He  resolved, 
therefore,  to  avoid  further  strife  by  withdrawing,  but  failed 
not,  in  the  first  place,  to  possess  himself  of  the  volume  which 
the  sacristan  carried  off  the  evening  before,  and  which  had 
been  returned  to  the  glen  in  such  a  marvellous  manner. 

Edward,  the  younger  of  Dame  Elspeth' s  boys,  made  great 
objections  to  the  book  being  removed,  in  which  Mary  would 


134 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


probably  have  joined,  but  that  she  was  now  in  her  little  sleep- 
ing-chamber with  Tibb,  who  was  exerting  her  simple  skill  to 
console  the  young  lady  for  her  mother's  death.  But  the 
younger  Glendinning  stood  up  in  defence  of  her  property, 
and,  with  a  positiveness  which  had  hitherto  made  no  part  of 
his  character,  declared,  that  now  the  kind  lady  was  dead,  the 
book  was  Mary's,  and  no  one  but  Mary  should  have  it. 

"  But  if  it  is  not  a  fit  book  for  Mary  to  read,  my  dear  boy, 97 
said  the  father,  gently,  "  you  would  not  wish  it  to  remain  with 
her?" 

"  The  lady  read  it, "  answered  the  young  champion  of  prop- 
erty, "  and  so  it  could  not  be  wrong ;  it  shall  not  be  taken 
away.  I  wonder  where  Halbert  is?  listening  to  the  bravading 
tales  of  gay  Christie,  I  reckon !  He  is  always  wishing  for 
fighting,  and  now  he  is  out  of  the  way!" 

"  Why,  Edward,  you  would  not  fight  with  me,  who  am  both 
a  priest  and  an  old  man?" 

"  If  you  were  as  good  a  priest  as  the  Pope, "  said  the  boy, 
"  and  as  old  as  the  hills  to  boot,  you  shall  not  carry  away 
Mary's  book  without  her  leave.    I  will  do  battle  for  it." 

"But  see  you,  my  love,"  said  the  monk,  amused  with  the 
resolute  friendship  manifested  by  the  boy,  "  I  do  not  take  it ; 
I  only  borrow  it;  and  I  leave  in  its  place  my  own  gay  missal, 
as  a  pledge  I  will  bring  it  back  again." 

Edward  opened  the  missal  with  eager  curiosity,  and  glanced 
at  the  pictures  with  which  it  was  illustrated.  "  St.  George  and 
the  dragon — Halbert  will  like  that;  and  St.  Michael  brandish- 
ing his  sword  over  the  head  of  the  Wicked  One — and  that  will 
do  for  Halbert  too.  And  see  the  St.  John  leading  his  lamb  in 
the  wilderness,  with  his  little  cross  made  of  reeds,  and  his  scrip 
and  staff — that  shall  be  my  favourite ;  and  where  shall  we  find 
one  for  poor  Mary? — here  is  a  beauitful  woman  weeping  and 
lamenting  herself." 

"  That  is  St.  Mary  Magdalen  repenting  of  her  sins,  my  dear 
boy, "  said  the  father. 

"  That  will  not  suit  our  Mary ;  for  she  commits  no  faults, 
and  is  never  angry  with  us  but  when  we  do  something 
wrong. 99 


THE  MONASTERY. 


135 


"  Then,"  said  the  father,  "  I  will  show  you  a  Mary  who  will 
protect  her  and  you  and  all  good  children.  See  how  fairly 
she  is  represented,  with  her  gown  covered  with  golden  stars." 

The  boy  was  lost  in  wonder  at  the  portrait  of  the  Virgin 
which  the  sub-prior  turned  up  to  him. 

"  This, "  he  said,  "  is  really  like  our  sweet  Mary ;  and  I  think 
I  will  let  you  take  away  the  black  book,  that  has  no  such  good- 
ly shows  in  it,  and  leave  this  for  Mary  instead.  But  you  must 
promise  to  bring  back  the  book,  good  father ;  for  now  I  think 
upon  it,  Mary  may  like  that  best  which  was  her  mother's." 

"  I  will  certainly  return, 99  said  the  monk,  evading  his  an- 
swer, "  and  perhaps  I  may  teach  you  to  write  and  read  such 
beautiful  letters  as  you  see  there  written,  and  to  paint  them 
blue,  green,  and  yellow,  and  to  blazon  them  with  gold. " 

"  Ay,  and  to  make  such  figures  as  those  blessed  saints,  and 
especially  these  two  Marys?"  said  the  boy. 

"With  their  blessing,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "I  can  teach  you 
that  art  too,  so  far  as  I  am  myself  ca.pable  of  showing  and 
you  of  learning  it." 

"Then,"  said  Edward,  "will  I  paint  Mary's  picture;  and 
remember  you  are  to  bring  back  the  black  book,  that  you  must 
promise  me." 

The  sub-prior,  anxious  to  get  rid  of  the  boy's  pertinacity, 
and  to  set  forward  on  his  return  to  the  convent,  without  hav- 
ing any  farther  interview  with  Christie  the  galloper,  answered 
by  giving  the  promise  Edward  required,  mounted  his  mule, 
and  set  forth  on  his  return  homeward. 

The  November  day  was  well  spent  ere  the  sub-prior  resumed 
his  journey ;  for  the  difficulty  of  the  road,  and  the  various  de- 
lays which  he  had  met  with  at  the  tower,  had  detained  him 
longer  than  he  proposed.  A  chill  easterly  wind  was  sighing 
among  the  withered  leaves,  and  stripping  them  from  the  hold 
they  had  yet  retained  on  the  parent  trees. 

"Even  so,"  said  the  monk,  "our  prospects  in  this  vale  of 
time  grow  more  disconsolate  as  the  stream  of  years  passes  on. 
Little  have  I  gained  by  my  journey,  saving  the  certainty  that 
heresy  is  busy  among  us  with  more  than  his  usual  activity, 
and  that  the  spirit  of  insulting  religious  orders  and  plundering 


136 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  church's  property,  so  general  in  the  eastern  districts  of 
Scotland,  has  now  come  nearer  home." 

The  tread  of  a  horse  which  came  up  behind  him  interrupted 
his  reverie,  and  he  soon  saw  he  was  mounted  by  the  same  wild 
rider  whom  he  had  left  at  the  tower. 

"  Good  even,  my  son,  and  benedicite, 99  said  the  sub-prior  as 
he  passed.  But  the  rude  soldier  scarce  acknowledged  the 
greeting  by  bending  his  head  ;  and  dashing  the  spurs  into  his 
horse,  went  on  at  a  pace  which  soon  left  the  monk  and  his 
mule  far  behind.  "  And  there, "  thought  the  sub-prior,  "  goes 
another  plague  of  the  times — a  fellow  whose  birth  designed 
him  to  cultivate  the  earth,  but  who  is  perverted,  by  the  un- 
hallowed and  unchristian  divisions  of  the  country,  into  a  dar- 
ing, dissolute  robber.  The  barons  of  Scotland  are  now  turned 
masterful  thieves  and  ruffians,  oppressing  the  poor  by  violence, 
and  wasting  the  church,  by  extorting  free  quarters  from  abbeys 
and  priories,  without  either  shame  or  reason.  I  fear  me  I  shall 
be  too  late  to  counsel  the  abbot  to  make  a  stand  against  these 
daring  sorners  1 — I  must  make  haste."  He  struck  his  mule 
with  his  riding-wand  accordingly;  but,  instead  of  mending 
her  pace,  the  animal  suddenly  started  from  the  path,  and  the 
rider's  utmost  efforts  could  not  force  her  forward. 

"Art  thou,  too,  infected  with  the  spirit  of  the  times?"  said 
the  sub-prior;  "thou  wert  wont  to  be  ready  and  serviceable, 
and  art  now  as  restive  as  any  wild  jack-man  or  stubborn  here- 
tic of  them  all. " 

While  he  was  contending  with  the  startled  animal,  a  voice, 
like  that  of  a  female,  chanted  in  his  ear,  or  at  least  very  close 
to  it: 

11  Good  evening,  sir  priest,  and  so  late  as  you  ride, 
With  your  mule  so  fair,  and  your  mantle  so  wide  ; 
But  ride  you  through  valley,  or  ride  you  o'er  hill, 
There  is  one  that  has  warrant  to  wait  on  you  still. 

Back,  back, 

The  volume  black  ! 
I  have  a  warrant  to  carry  it  back." 

The  sub-prior  looked  around,  but  either  bush  or  brake  was 
near  which  could  conceal  an  ambushed  songstress.    "  May  Our 
1  See  To  Some.    Note  5. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


137 


Lady  have  mercy  on  me!"  he  said;  "I  trust  my  senses  have 
not  forsaken  me;  yet  how  my  thoughts  should  arrange  them- 
selves into  rhymes  which  I  despise,  and  music  which  I  care  not 
for,  or  why  there  should  be  the  sound  of  a  female  voice  in  ears 
to  which  its  melody  has  been  so  long  indifferent,  baffles  my  com- 
prehension, and  almost  realises  the  vision  of  Philip  the  sacri- 
stan. Come,  good  mule,  betake  thee  to  the  path,  and  let  us 
hence  while  our  judgment  serves  us." 

But  the  mule  stood  as  if  it  had  been  rooted  to  the  spot, 
backed  from  the  point  to  which  it  was  pressed  by  its  rider, 
and  by  her  ears  laid  close  into  her  neck,  and  her  eyes  almost 
starting  from  their  sockets,  testified  that  she  was  under  great 
terror. 

While  the  sub-prior,  by  alternate  threats  and  soothing,  en- 
deavoured to  reclaim  the  wayward  animal  to  her  duty,  the 
wild  musical  voice  was  again  heard  close  beside  him : 

M  What  ho  !  sub-prior,  and  came  you  but  here 
To  conjure  a  book  from  a  dead  woman's  bier? 
Sain  you,  and  save  you,  be  wary  and  wise, 
Ride  back  with  the  book,  or  you'll  pay  for  your  prize. 
Back,  back, 

There's  death  in  the  track  ! 
In  the  name  of  my  master,  I  bid  thee  bear  back." 

"  In  the  name  of  my  Master, "  said  the  astonished  monk, 
"  that  name  before  which  all  things  created  tremble,  I  conjure 
thee  to  say  what  thou  art  that  hauntest  me  thus?" 

The  same  voice  replied : 

"  That  which  is  neither  ill  nor  well, 
That  which  belongs  not  to  Heaven  nor  to  hell, 
A  wreath  of  the  mist,  a  bubble  of  the  stream, 
'TwbZt  a  waking  thought  and  a  sleeping  dream ; 

A  form  that  men  spy 

With  the  half-shut  eye, 
In  the  beams  of  the  setting  sun,  am  I." 

"This  is  more  than  simple  fantasy,"  said  the  sub-prior, 
rousing  himself;  though,  notwithstanding  the  natural  hardi- 
hood of  his  temper,  the  sensible  presence-  of  a  supernatural 
being  so  near  him  failed  not  to  make  his  blood  run  cold  and 
his  hair  bristle.    "I  charge  thee,"  he  said,  aloud,  "be  thine 


138 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


errand  what  it  will,  to  depart  and  trouble  me  no  more !  Ealse 
spirit,  thou  canst  not  appal  any  save  those  who  do  the  work 
negligently. " 

The  voice  immediately  answered: 

"  Vainly,  sir,  wouldst  thou  bar  me  my  right ! 
Like  the  star  when  it  shoots,  I  can  dart  through  the  night; 
I  can  dance  on  the  torrent  and  ride  on  the  air. 
And  travel  the  world  with  the  bonny  nightmare. 

Again,  again, 

At  the  crook  of  the  glen, 
Where  bickers  the  burnie,  I'll  meet  thee  again." 

The  road  was  now  apparently  left  open;  for  the  mule  col- 
lected herself,  and  changed  from  her  posture  of  terror  to  one 
which  promised  advance,  although  a  profuse  perspiration  and 
general  trembling  of  the  joints  indicated  the  bodily  terror  she 
had  undergone. 

"  I  used  to  doubt  the  existence  of  Cabalists  and  Kosicru- 
cians,"  thought  the  sub-prior,  "but,  by  my  holy  order,  I  know 
no  longer  what  to  say !  My  pulse  beats  temperately,  my  hand 
is  cool,  I  am  fasting  from  everything  but  sin,  and  possessed 
of  my  ordinary  faculties.  Either  some  fiend  is  permitted  to 
bewilder  me,  or  the  tales  of  Cornelius  Agrippa,  Paracelsus, 
and  others  who  treat  of  occult  philosophy  art  not  without 
foundation.  At  the  crook  of  the  glen?  I  could  have  desired 
to  avoid  a  second  meeting,  but  I  am  on  the  service  of  the 
church,  and  the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  me." 

He  moved  forward  accordingly,  but  with  precaution,  and 
not  without  fear ;  for  he  neither  knew  the  manner  in  which, 
or  the  place  where,  his  journey  might  be  next  interrupted  by 
his  invisible  attendant.  He  descended  the  glen  without  inter- 
ruption for  about  a  mile  farther,  when,  just  at  the  spot  where 
the  brook  approached  the  steep  hill,  with  a  winding  so  abrupt 
as  to  leave  scarcely  room  for  a  horse  to  pass,  the  mule  was 
again  visited  with  the  same  symptoms  of  terror  which  had  be- 
fore interrupted  her  course.  Better  acquainted  than  before 
with  the  cause  of  her  restiveness,  the  priest  employed  no 
effort  to  make  her  proceed,  but  addressed  himself  to  the  ob- 
ject, which  he  doubted  not  was  the  same  that  had  formerly 


THE  MONASTERY. 


139 


interrupted  him,  in  the  words  of  solemn  exorcism  prescribed 
by  the  Church  of  Rome  on  such  occasions. 
In  reply  to  his  demand,  the  voice  again  sung : 

11  Men  of  good  are  bold  as  sackless, 
Men  of  rude  are  wild  and  reckless. 
Lie  thou  still 
In  the  nook  of  the  hill, 
For  those  be  before  thee  that  wish  thee  ill." 

While  the  sub-prior  listened,  with  his  head  turned  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  sounds  seemed  to  come,  he  felt  as  if 
something  rushed  against  him ;  and  ere  he  could  discover  the 
cause,  he  was  pushed  from  his  saddle  with  gentle  but  irresisti- 
ble force.  Before  he  reached  the  ground  his  senses  were  gone, 
and  he  lay  long  in  a  state  of  insensibility;  for  the  sunset  had 
not  ceased  to  gild  the  top  of  the  distant  hill  when  he  fell,  and 
when  he  again  became  conscious  of  existence  the  pale  moon 
was  gleaming  on  the  landscape.  He  awakened  in  a  state  of 
terror,  from  which,  for  a  few  minutes,  he  found  it  difficult  to 
shake  himself  free.  At  length  he  sate  up  on  the  grass,  and 
became  sensible,  by  repeated  exertion,  that  the  only  personal 
injury  which  he  had  sustained  was  the  numbness  arising  from 
extreme  cold.  The  motion  of  something  near  him  made  the 
blood  again  run  to  his  heart,  and  by  a  sudden  effort  he  started 
up,  and,  looking  around,  saw  to  his  relief  that  the  noise  was 
occasioned  by  the  footsteps  of  his  own  mule.  The  peaceable 
animal  had  remained  quietly  beside  her  master  during  his 
trance,  browsing  on  the  grass  which  grew  plentifully  in  that 
sequestered  nook. 

With  some  exertion  he  collected  himself,  remounted  the  an- 
imal, and,  meditating  upon  his  wild  adventure,  descended  the 
glen  till  its  junction  with  the  broader  valley  through  which 
the  Tweed  winds.  The  drawbridge  was  readily  dropped  at 
his  first  summons ;  and  so  much  had  he  won  upon  the  heart 
of  the  churlish  warden,  that  Peter  appeared  himself  with  a 
lantern  to  show  the  sub-prior  his  way  over  the  perilous  pass. 

"  By  my  sooth,  sir, "  he  said,  holding  the  light  up  to  Father 
Eustace's  face,  "you  look  sorely  travelled  and  deadly  pale; 
but  a  little  matter  serves  to  weary  out  you  men  of  the  cell.  I 


140 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


now  who  speak  to  you — I  have  ridden,  before  I  was  perched 
up  here  on  this  pillar  betwixt  wind  and  water,  it  may  be  thirty 
Scots  miles  before  I  broke  my  fast,  and  have  had  the  red  of  a 
bramble  rose  in  my  cheek  all  the  while.  But  will  you  taste 
some  food,  or  a  cup  of  distilled  waters?" 

"  I  may  not, "  said  Father  Eustace,  "  being  under  a  vow  5  but 
I  thank  you  for  your  kindness,  and  I  pray  you  to  give  what  I 
may  not  accept  to  the  next  poor  pilgrim  who  comes  hither  pale 
and  fainting,  for  so  it  shall  be  the  better  both  with  him  here 
and  with  you  hereafter. 99 

"By  my  faith,  and  I  will  do  so,"  said  Peter  Bridge-Ward, 
"even  for  thy  sake.  It  is  strange  how,  how  this  sub-prior 
gets  round  one's  heart  more  than  the  rest  of  these  cowled  gen- 
try, that  think  of  nothing  but  quaffing  and  stuffing!  Wife,  I 
say — wife,  we  will  give  a  cup  of  distilled  waters  and  a  crust 
of  bread  unto  the  next  pilgrim  that  comes  over;  and  ye  may 
keep  for  the  purpose  the  grunds  of  the  last  greybeard,  and 
the  ill-baked  bannock  which  the  bairns  couldna  eat. 99 

While  Peter  issued  these  charitable,  and  at  the  same  time 
prudent,  injunctions,  the  sub-prior,  whose  mild  interference 
had  awakened  the  bridge-ward  to  such  an  act  of  unwonted 
generosity,  was  pacing  onward  to  the  monastery.  In  the 
way,  he  had  to  commune  with  and  subdue  his  own  rebellious 
heart,  an  enemy,  he  was  sensible,  more  formidable  than  any 
which  the  external  powers  of  Satan  could  place  in  his  way. 

Father  Eustace  had  indeed  strong  temptation  to  suppress 
the  extraordinary  incident  which  had  befallen  him,  which  he 
was  the  more  reluctant  to  confess,  because  he  had  passed  so 
severe  a  judgment  upon  Father  Philip,  who,  as  he  was  now 
not  unwilling  to  allow,  had,  on  his  return  from  Glendearg, 
encountered  obstacles  somewhat  similar  to  his  own.  Of  this 
the  sub-prior  was  the  more  convinced  when,  feeling  in  his 
bosom  for  the  book  which  he  had  brought  off  from  the  Tower 
of  Glendearg,  he  found  it  was  amissing,  which  he  could  only 
account  for  by  supposing  it  had  been  stolen  from  him  during 
his  trance. 

"If  I  confess  this  strange  visitation,"  thought  the  sub- 
prior,  "  I  become  the  ridicule  of  all  my  brethren — I  whom  the 


THE  MONASTERY. 


141 


Primate  sent  hither  to  be  a  watch,  as  it  were,  and  a  check 
upon  their  follies.  I  give  the  abbot  an  advantage  over  me 
which  I  shall  never  again  recover,  and  Heaven  only  knows 
how  he  may  abuse  it,  in  his  foolish  simplicity,  to  the  dis- 
honour and  loss  of  Holy  Kirk.  But  then,  if  I  make  not  true 
confession  of  my  shame,  with  what  face  can  I  again  presume 
to  admonish  or  restrain  others?  Avow,  proud  heart,"  con- 
tinued he,  addressing  himself,  "  that  the  weal  of  Holy  Church 
interests  thee  less  in  this  matter  than  thine  own  humiliation. 
Yes,  Heaven  has  punished  thee  even  in  that  point  in  which 
thou  didst  deem  thyself  most  strong,  in  thy  spiritual  pride 
and  thy  carnal  wisdom.  Thou  hast  laughed  at  and  derided  the 
inexperience  of  thy  brethren ;  stoop  thyself  in  turn  to  their 
derision;  tell  what  they  may  not  believe;  affirm  that  which 
they  will  ascribe  to  idle  fear,  or  perhaps  to  idle  -falsehood; 
sustain  the  disgrace  of  a  silly  visionary  or  a  wilful  deceiver. 
Be  it  so;  I  will  do  my  duty,  and  make  ample  confession  to 
my  superior.  If  the  discharge  of  this  duty  destroys  my  use- 
fulness in  this  house,  God  and  Our  Lady  will  send  me  where 
I  can  better  serve  them." 

There  was  no  littl  e  merit  in  the  resolution  thus  piously  and 
generously  formed  by  Father  Eustace.  To  men  of  any  rank 
the  esteem  of  their  order  is  naturally  most  dear ;  but  in  the 
monastic  establishment,  cut  off,  as  the  brethren  are,  from 
other  objects  of  ambition,  as  well  as  from  all  exterior  friend- 
ship and  relationship,  the  place  which  they  hold  in  the  opin- 
ion of  each  other  is  all  in  all. 

But  the  consciousness  how  much  he  should  rejoice  the  abbot 
and  most  of  the  other  monks  of  St.  Mary's,  who  were  impa- 
tient of  the  unauthorised  yet  irresistible  control  which  he  was 
wont  to  exercise  in  the  affairs  of  the  convent,  by  a  confession 
which  would  put  him  in  a  ludicrous,  or  perhaps  even  in  a 
criminal,  point  of  view  could  not  weigh  with  Father  Eustace 
in  comparison  with  the  task  which  his  belief  enjoined. 

As,  strong  in  his  feelings  of  duty,  he  approached  the  exte- 
rior gate  of  the  monastery,  he  was  surprised  to  see  torches 
gleaming,  and  men  assembled  around  it,  some  on  horseback, 
some  on  foot,  while  several  of  the  monks,  distinguished 


142 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


through  the  night  by  their  white  scapularies,  were  making 
themselves  busy  among  the  crowd.  The  sub-prior  was  re- 
ceived with  a  unanimous  shout  of  joy,  which  at  once  made 
him  sensible  that  he  had  himself  been  the  object  of  their 
anxiety. 

"There  he  is! — there  he  is!  God  be  thanked — there  he 
is,  hale  and  feir!"  exclaimed  the  vassals;  while  the  monks 
exclaimed :  "  Te  Deum  laudamus  ;  the  blood  of  Thy  servants 
is  precious  in  Thy  sight!" 

"What  is  the  matter,  children? — what  is  the  matter,  my 
brethren?"  said  Father  Eustace,  dismounting  at  the  gate. 

"Nay,  brother,  if  thou  know'st  not,  we  will  not  tell  thee 
till  thou  art  in  the  refectory, "  answered  the  monks.  "  Suffice 
it  that  the  lord  abbot  had  ordered  these,  our  zealous  and  faith- 
ful vassals,  instantly  to  set  forth  to  guard  thee  from  imminent 
peril.  Ye  may  ungirth  your  horses,  children,  and  dismiss; 
and  to-morrow  each  who  was  at  this  rendezvous  may  send  to 
the  convent  kitchen  for  a  quarter  of  a  yard  of  roast-beef  1  and 
a  black-jack  full  of  double  ale." 

The  vassals  dispersed  with  joyful  acclamation,  and  the 
monks,  with  equal  jubilee,  conducted  the  sub-prior  into  the 
refectory. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Here  we  stand  .... 

Woundless  and  well,  may  Heaven's  high  name  be  bless'd  for't ! 

As  erst,  ere  treason  couch' d  a  lance  against  us. 

Decker. 

No  sooner  was  the  sub-prior  hurried  into  the  refectory  by 
his  rejoicing  companions,  than  the  first  person  on  whom  he 
fixed  his  eye  proved  to  be  Christie  of  the  Clinthill.  He  was 
seated  in  the  chimney-corner,  fettered  and  guarded,  his  fea- 
tures drawn  into  that  air  of  sulky  and  turbid  resolution  with 
which  those  hardened  in  guilt  are  accustomed  to  view  the  ap- 
proach of  punishment.    But  as  the  sub-prior  drew  near  to  him 

1  See  Note  6. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


143 


his  face  assumed  a  more  wild  and  startled  expression,  while 
he  exclaimed :  "  The  devil — the  devil  himself  brings  the  dead 
back  upon  the  living!" 

"  Nay, "  said  a  monk  to  him,  "  say  rather,  that  Our  Lady 
foils  the  attempts  of  the  wicked  on  her  faithful  servants :  our 
dear  brother  lives  and  moves." 

" Lives  and  moves!"  said  the  ruffian,  rising  and  shuffling 
towards  the  sub-prior  as  well  as  his  chains  would  permit; 
"nay,  then  I  will  never  trust  ashen  shaft  and  steel  point 
more.  It  is  even  so, "  he  added,  as  he  gazed  on  the  sub-prior 
with  astonishment;  "neither  wem  nor  wound — not  as  much 
as  a  rent  in  his  frock!" 

"And  whence  should  my  wound  have  come?"  said  Father 
Eustace. 

"From  the  good  lance  that  never  failed  me  before,"  replied 
Christie  of  the  Clinthill. 

"  Heaven  absolve  thee  for  thy  purpose!"  said  the  sub-prior; 
"wouldst  thou  have  slain  a  servant  of  the  altar?" 

"To  choose!"  answered  Christie.  "The  Fifemen  say,  an 
the  whole  pack  of  ye  were  slain,  there  were  more  lost  at 
Flodden." 

"Villain!  art  thou  heretic  as  well  as  murderer?" 

"Not  I,  by  St.  Giles,"  replied  the  rider;  "I  listened 
blythely  enough  to  the  Laird  of  Monance,  when  he  told  me 
ye  were  all  cheats  and  knaves ;  but  when  he  would  have  had 
me  go  hear  one  Wiseheart,  a  gospeller,  as  they  called  him, 
he  might  as  well  have  persuaded  the  wild  colt  that  had  flung 
one  rider  to  kneel  down  and  help  another  into  the  saddle." 

"  There  is  some  goodness  about  him  yet,  "•  said  the  sacristan 
to  the  abbot,  who  at  that  moment  entered.  "  He  refused  to 
hear  a  heretic  preacher." 

"  The  better  for  him  in  the  next  world, "  answered  the  ab- 
bot. "  Prepare  for  death,  my  son :  we  deliver  thee  over  to  the 
secular  arm  of  our  bailie,  for  execution  on  the  gallow-hill  by 
peep  of  light." 

"Amen!"  said  the  ruffian;  "'tis  the  end  I  must  have 
come  by  sooner  or  later ;  and  what  care  I  whether  I  feed  the 
crows  at  St.  Mary's  or  at  Carlisle?" 


144 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"Let  me  implore  your  reverend  patience  for  an  instant/' 
said  the  sub-prior ;  "  until  I  shall  inquire  n 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  abbot,  observing  him  for  the  first 
time.  "  Our  dear  brother  restored  to  us  when  his  life  was 
unhoped  for! — nay,  kneel  not  to  a  sinner  like  me — stand  up — 
thou  hast  my  blessing.  When  this  villain  came  to  the  gate, 
accused  by  his  own  evil  conscience,  and  crying  out  he  had 
murdered  thee,  I  thought  that  the  pillar  of  our  main  aisle  had 
fallen ;  no  more  shall  a  life  so  precious  be  exposed  to  such 
risks  as  occurred  in  this  Border  country ;  no  longer  shall  one 
beloved  and  rescued  of  Heaven  hold  so  low  a  station  in  the 
church  as  that  of  a  poor  sub-prior :  I  will  write  by  express  to 
the  Primate  for  thy  speedy  removal  and  advancement." 

"Nay,  but  let  me  understand,"  said  the  sub-prior;  "did 
this  soldier  say  that  he  had  slain  me?" 

"  That  he  had  transfixed  you,"  answered  the  abbot,  "  in  full 
career  with  his  lance;  but  it  seems  he  had  taken  an  indiffer- 
ent aim.  But  no  sooner  didst  thou  fall  to  the  ground  mor- 
tally gored,  as  he  deemed,  with  his  weapon,  than  our  blessed 
patroness  appeared  to  him,  as  he  averred  " 

"I  averred  no  such  thing,"  said  the  prisoner;  "I  said  a 
woman  in  white  interrupted  me,  as  I  was  about  to  examine 
the  priest's  cassock,  for  they  are  usually  well  lined;  she  had 
a  bulrush  in  her  hand,  with  one  touch  of  which  she  struck  me 
from  my  horse,  as  I  might  strike  down  a  child  of  four  years 
old  with  an  iron  mace ;  and  then,  like  a  singing  fiend  as  she 
was,  she  sung  to  me : 

1  Thank  the  holly-bush 
•    That  nods  on  thy  brow  ; 
Or  with  this  slender  rush 
I  had  strangled  thee  now.' 

I  gathered  myself  up  with  fear  and  difficulty,  threw  myself 
on  my  horse,  and  came  hither  like  a  fool  to  get  myself  hanged 
for  a  rogue." 

"  Thou  seest,  honoured  brother, "  said  the  abbot  to  the  sub- 
prior,  "  in  what  favour  thou  art  with  our  blessed  patroness, 
that  she  herself  becomes  the  guardian  of  thy  paths.  Not 
since  the  days  of  our  blessed  founder  hath  she  shown  such 


THE  MONASTERY. 


145 


grace  to  any  one.  All  unworthy  were  we  to  hold  spiritual 
superiority  over  thee,  and  we  pray  thee  to  prepare  for  thy 
speedy  removal  to  Aberbrothwick. 99 

"Alas!  my  lord  and  father,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "your 
words  pierce  my  very  soul.  Under  the  seal  of  confession 
will  I  presently  tell  thee  why  I  conceive  myself  rather  the 
baffled  sport  of  a  spirit  of  another  sort  than  the  protected  fa- 
vourite of  the  heavenly  powers.  But  first  let  me  ask  this 
unhappy  man  a  question  or  two." 

"  Do  as  ye  list, 99  replied  the  abbot ;  "  but  you  shall  not  con- 
vince me  that  it  is  fitting  you  remain  in  this  inferior  office  in 
the  convent  of  St.  Mary." 

"I  would  ask  of  this  poor  man,"  said  Father  Eustace,  "for 
what  purpose  he  nourished  the  thought  of  putting  to  death 
one  who  never  did  him  evil?" 

"  Ay !  but  thou  didst  menace  me  with  evil, "  said  the  ruffian, 
"  and  no  one  but  a  fool  is  menaced  twice.  Dost  thou  not  re- 
member what  you  said  touching  the  Primate  and  Lord  James, 
and  the  black  pool  of  Jed  wood?  Didst  thou  think  me  fool 
enough  to  wait  till  thou  hadst  betrayed  me  to  the  sack  and  the 
fork?  There  were  small  wisdom  in  that,  methinks — as  little 
as  in  coming  hither  to  tell  my  own  misdeeds :  I  think  the 
devil  was  in  me  when  I  took  this  road.  I  might  have  remem- 
bered the  proverb:  6 Never  friar  forgot  feud.'  " 

"  And  it  was  solely  for  that — for  that  only  hasty  word  of 
mine,  uttered  in  a  moment  of  impatience,  and  forgotten  ere  it 
was  well  spoken?"  said  Father  Eustace. 

"  Ay !  for  that,  and — for  the  love  of  thy  gold  crucifix, "  said 
Christie  of  the  Clinthill. 

"  Gracious  Heaven !  and  could  the  yellow  metal — the  glit- 
tering earth — so  far  overcome  every  sense  of  what  is  thereby 
represented?  Father  abbot,  I  pray,  as  a  dear  boon,  you  will 
deliver  this  guilty  person  to  my  mercy." 

"Nay,  brother,"  interposed  the  sacristan,  "to  your  doom 
if  you  will,  not  to  your  mercy.  Remember,  we  are  not  all 
equally  favoured  by  our  blessed  Lady,  nor  is  it  likely  that 
every  frock  in  the  convent  will  serve  as  a  coat  of  proof  when 
a  lance  is  couched  against  it. " 
10 


146  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

"  For  that  very  reason, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  I  would  not 
that  for  my  worthless  self  the  community  were  to  fall  at  feud 
with  Julian  of  Avenel,  this  man's  master." 

"Our  Lady  forbid!"  said  the  sacristan;  "he  is  a  second 
Julian  the  Apostate. " 

"  With  our  reverend  father  the  abbot's  permission,  then," 
said  Father  Eustace,  "  I  desire  this  man  may  be  freed  from 
his  chains  and  suffered  to  depart  uninjured.  And  here, 
friend,"  he  added,  giving  him  the  golden  crucifix,  "is  the 
image  for  which  thou  wert  willing  to  stain  thy  hands  with 
murder.  View  it  well,  and  may  it  inspire  thee  with  other 
and  better  thoughts  than  those  which  referred  to  it  as  a 
piece  of  bullion.  Part  with  it,  nevertheless,  if  thy  necessities 
require,  and  get  thee  one  of  such  coarse  substance  that  mammon 
shall  have  no  share  in  any  of  the  reflections  to  which  it  gives 
rise.  It  was  the  bequest  of  a  dear  friend  to  me ;  but  dearer 
service  can  it  never  do  than  that  of  winning  a  soul  to  Heaven." 

The  Borderer,  now  freed  from  his  chains,  stood  gazing  al- 
ternately on  the  sub-prior  and  on  the  golden  crucifix.  "  By 
St.  Giles, "  said  he,  "  I  understand  ye  not !  An  ye  give  me 
gold  for  couching  my  lance  at  thee,  what  would  you  give  me 
to  level  it  at  a  heretic?" 

£  The  church, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  will  try  the  effect  of 
her  spiritual  censures  to  bring  these  stray  sheep  into  the  fold 
ere  she  employ  the  edge  of  the  sword  of  St.  Peter." 

"Ay,  but,"  said  the  ruffian,  "they  say  the  Primate  recom- 
mends a  little  strangling  and  burning  in  aid  both  of  censure 
and  of  sword.  But  fare  ye  well!  I  owe  you  a  life,  and  it 
may  be  I  will  not  forget  my  debt." 

The  bailie  now  came  bustling  in,  dressed  in  his  blue  coat 
and  bandaliers,  and  attended  by  two  or  three  halberdiers.  "  I 
have  been  a  thought  too  late  in  waiting  upon  your  reverend 
lordship.  I  am  grown  somewhat  fatter  since  the  field  of 
Pinkie,  and  my  leathern  coat  slips  not  on  so  soon  as  it  was 
wont ;  but  the  dungeon  is  ready,  and  though,  as  I  said,  I  have 
been  somewhat  late  " 

Here  his  intended  prisoner  walked  gravely  up  to  the  offi- 
cer's nose,  to  his  great  amazement. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


U7 


"You  have  been  indeed  somewhat  late,  bailie/'  said  he, 
"  and  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  your  buff -coat,  and  to  the  time 
you  took  to  put  it  on.  If  the  secular  arm  had  arrived  some 
quarter  of  an  hour  sooner,  I  had  been  out  of  the  reach  of 
spiritual  grace ;  but  as  it  is,  I  wish  you  good  even,  and  a  safe 
riddance  out  of  your  garment  of  durance,  in  which  you  have 
much  the  air  of  a  hog  in  armour." 

"Wroth  was  the  bailie  with  this  comparison,  and  exclaimed 
in  ire :  "  An  it  were  not  for  the  presence  of  the  venerable  lord 
abbot,  thou  knave  " 

"Nay,  an  thou  wouldst  try  conclusions,"  said  Christie  of 
the  Clinthill,  "  I  will  meet  thee  at  daybreak  by  St.  Mary's 
well." 

"Hardened  wretch!"  said  Father  Eustace,  "art  thou  but 
this  instant  delivered  from  death,  and  dost  thou  so  soon  nurse 
thoughts  of  slaughter?" 

"  I  will  meet  with  thee  ere  it  be  long,  thou  knave, "  said  the 
bailie,  "and  teach  thee  thine  oremus." 

"  I  will  meet  thy  cattle  in  a  moonlight  night  before  that 
day, "  said  he  of  the  Clinthill. 

"I  will  have  thee  by  the  neck  one  misty  morning,  thou 
strong  thief,"  answered  the  secular  officer  of  the  church. 

"Thou  art  thyself  as  strong  a  thief  as  ever  rode,"  retorted 
Christie;  "and  if  the  worms  were  once  feasting  on  that  fat 
carcass  of  thine,  I  might  well  hope  to  have  thine  office,  by 
favour  of  these  reverend  men." 

"  A  cast  of  their  office,  and  a  cast  of  mine, "  answered  the 
bailie ;  "  a  cord  and  a  confessor,  that  is  all  thou  wilt  have 
from  us." 

"Sirs,"  said  the  sub-prior,  observing  that  his  brethren  be- 
gan to  take  more  interest  than  was  exactly  decorous  in  this 
wrangling  betwixt  justice  and  iniquity,  "  I  pray  you  both  to 
depart.  Master  bailie,  retire  with  your  halberdiers,  and 
trouble  not  the  man  whom  we  have  dismissed.  And  thou, 
Christie,  or  whatever  be  thy  name,  take  thy  departure,  and 
remember  thou  owest  thy  life  to  the  lord  abbot's  clemency." 

"Nay,  as  to  that,"  answered  Christie,  "I  judge  that  I  owe 
it  to  your  own ;  but  impute  it  to  whom  ye  list,  I  owe  a  life 


148 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


among  ye,  and  there  is  an  end. 99  And,  whistling  as  he  went, 
he  left  the  apartment,  seeming  as  if  he  held  the  life  which  he 
had  forfeited  not  worth  farther  thanks. 

"Obstinate  even  to  brutality!"  said  Father  Eustace ;  "and 
yet,  who  knows  but  some  better  ore  may  lie  under  so  rude  an 
exterior?" 

"  6  Save  a  thief  from  the  gallows, '  "  said  the  sacristan — 
"  you  know  the  rest  of  the  proverb ;  and  admitting,  as  may 
Heaven  grant,  that  our  lives  and  limbs  are  safe  from  this 
outrageous  knave,  who  shall  ensure  our  meal  and  our  malt, 
our  herds  and  our  flocks?" 

"  Marry,  that  will  I,  my  brethren, "  said  an  aged  monk. 
"  Ah,  brethren,  you  little  know  what  may  be  made  of  a  re- 
pentant robber.  In  Abbot  Ingelram's  days — ay,  and  I  remem- 
ber them  as  it  were  yesterday — the  freebooters  were  the  best 
welcome  men  that  came  to  St.  Mary's.  Ay,  they  paid  tithe 
of  every  drove  that  they  brought  over  from  the  South;  and 
because  they  were  something  lightly  come  by,  I  have  known 
them  make  the  tithe  a  seventh — that  is,  if  their  confessor 
knew  his  business.  Ay,  when  we  saw  from  the  tower  a  score 
of  fat  bullocks  or  a  drove  of  sheep  coming  down  the  valley, 
with  two  or  three  stout  men-at-arms  behind  them,  with  their 
glittering  steel  caps,  and  their  black-jacks,  and  their  long 
lances,  the  good  Lord  Abbot  Ingelram  was  wont  to  say — he 
was  a  merry  man :  "  There  come  the  tithes  of  the  spoilers  of 
the  Egyptians!"  Ay,  and  T  have  seen  the  famous  John  the 
Armstrang — a  fair  man  he  was  and  a  goodly,  the  more  pity 
that  hemp  was  ever  heckled  for  him — I  have  seen  him  come 
into  the  abbey  church  with  nine  tassels  of  gold  in  his  bonnet, 
and  every  tassel  made  of  nine  English  nobles,  and  he  would 
go  from  chapel  to  chapel,  and  from  image  to  image,  and 
from  altar  to  altar,  on  his  knees — and  leave  here  a  tassel, 
and  there  a  noble,  till  there  was  as  little  gold  on  his  bon- 
net as  on  my  hood:  you  will  find  no  such  Border  thieves 
now!" 

"  No,  truly,  Brother  Nicolas, "  answered  the  abbot ;  "  they 
are  more  apt  to  take  any  gold  the  church  has  left  than  to  be- 
queath or  bestow  any ;  and  for  cattle,  beshrew  me  if  I  think 


THE  MONASTERY. 


149 


they  care  whether  beeves  have  fed  on  the  meadows  of  Laner- 
cost  Abbey  or  of  St.  Mary's!" 

"  There  is  no  good  thing  left  in  them, "  said  Father  Nicolas ; 
"they  are  clean  naught.  Ah,  the  thieves  that  I  have  seen! — 
such  proper  men!  and  as  pitiful  as  proper,  and  as  pious  as 
pitiful!" 

"  It  skills  not  talking  of  it,  Brother  Nicolas, "  said  the  abbot ; 
"  and  I  will  now  dismiss  you,  my  brethren,  holding  your  meet- 
ing upon  this  our  inquisition  concerning  the  danger  of  our 
reverend  sub-prior  instead  of  the  attendance  on  the  lauds  this 
evening.  Yet  let  the  bells  be  duly  rung  for  the  edification  of 
the  laymen  without,  and  also  that  the  novices  may  give  due 
reverence.  And  now,  benedicite,  brethren!  The  cellarer  will 
bestow  on  each  a  grace-cup  and  a  morsel  as  ye  pass  the  but- 
tery, for  ye  have  been  turmoiled  and  anxious,  and  dangerous 
it  is  to  fall  asleep  in  such  case  with  empty  stomach." 

"  Gratias  agimus  quam  maximas,  domine  remrendissime  /" 
replied  the  brethren,  departing  in  their  due  order. 

But  the  sub-prior  remained  behind,  and  falling  on  his  knees 
before  the  abbot,  as  he  was  about  to  withdraw,  craved  him  to 
hear  under  the  seal  of  confession  the  adventures  of  the  day. 
The  reverend  lord  abbot  yawned,  and  would  have  alleged 
fatigue ;  but  to  Father  Eustace,  of  all  men,  he  was  ashamed 
to  show  indifference  in  his  religious  duties.  The  confession 
*  therefore  proceeded,  in  which  Father  Eustace  told  all  the  ex- 
traordinary circumstances  which  had  befallen  him  during  the 
journey.  And  being  questioned  by  the  abbot,  whether  he 
was  not  conscious  of  any  secret  sin,  through  which  he  might 
have  been  subjected  for  a  time  to  the  delusions  of  evil  spir- 
its, the  sub-prior  admitted  with  frank  avowal  that  he  thought 
he  might  have  deserved  such  penance  for  having  judged 
with  unfraternal  rigour  of  the  report  of  Father  Philip,  the 
sacristan. 

"Heaven,"  said  the  penitent,  "may  have  been  willing  to 
convince  me,  not  only  that  He  can  at  pleasure  open  a  commu- 
nication betwixt  us  and  beings  of  a  different  and,  as  we  word 
it,  supernatural  class,  but  also  to  punish  our  pride  of  superior 
wisdom,  or  superior  courage,  or  superior  learning." 


150 


WAYEBLEY  NOYELS. 


It  is  well  said  that  virtue  is  its  own  reward ;  and  I  question 
if  duty  was  ever  more  completely  recompensed  than  by  the 
audience  which  the  reverend  abbot  so  unwillingly  yielded  to 
the  confession  of  the  sub-prior.  To  find  the  object  of  his  fear, 
shall  we  say,  or  of  his  envy,  or  of  both,  accusing  himself  of 
the  very  error  with  which  he  had  so  tacitly  charged  him,  was 
at  once  a  corroboration  of  the  abbot's  judgment,  a  soothing  of 
his  pride,  and  an  allaying  of  his  fears.  The  sense  of  triumph, 
however,  rather  increased  than  diminished  his  natural  good- 
humour  ;  and  so  far  was  Abbot  Boniface  from  being  disposed 
to  tyrannise  over  his  sub-prior  in  consequence  of  this  discov- 
ery, that  in  his  exhortation  he  hovered  somewhat  ludicrously 
betwixt  the  natural  expression  of  his  own  gratified  vanity  and 
his  timid  reluctance  to  hurt  the  feelings  of  Father  Eustace. 

"  My,  brother, "  said  he,  ex  cathedra,  "  it  cannot  have  es- 
caped your  judicious  observation  that  we  have  often  declined 
our  own  judgment  in  favour  of  your  opinion,  even  about  those 
matters  which  most  nearly  concerned  the  community.  Never- 
theless, grieved  would  we  be  could  you  think  that  we  did  this 
either  because  we  deemed  our  own  opinion  less  pregnant,  or 
our  wit  more  shallow,  than  that  of  our  other  brethren.  For 
it  was  done  exclusively  to  give  our  younger  brethren,  such  as 
your  much-esteemed  self,  my  dearest  brother,  that  courage 
which  is  necessary  to  a  free  deliverance  of  your  opinion ;  we 
ofttimes  setting  apart  our  proper  judgment,  that  our  inferiors,* 
and  especially  our  dear  brother  the  sub-prior,  may  be  com- 
forted and  encouraged  in  proposing  valiantly  his  own  thoughts. 
Which  our  deference  and  humility  may,  in  some  sort,  have 
produced  in  your  mind,  most  reverend  brother,  that  self -opin- 
ion of  parts  and  knowledge  which  hath  led  unfortunately  to 
your  over-estimating  your  own  faculties,  and  thereby  subject- 
ing yourself,  as  is  but  too  visible,  to  the  japes  and  mockeries 
of  evil  spirits.  For  it  is  assured  that  Heaven  always  holdeth 
us  in  the  least  esteem  when  we  deem  of  ourselves  most  highly ; 
and  also,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  that  we  have  some- 
what departed  from  what  became  our  high  seat  in  this  abbey, 
in  suffering  ourselves  to  be  too  much  guided,  and  even,  as  it 
were,  controlled,  by  the  voice  of  our  inferior.  Wherefore," 


THE  MONASTERY. 


151 


continued  the  lord  abbot,  "  in  both  of  us  such  faults  shall  and 
must  be  amended — you  hereafter  presuming  less  upon  your 
gifts  and  carnal  wisdom,  and  I  taking  heed  not  so  easily  to 
relinquish  mine  own  opinion  for  that  of  one  lower  in  place 
and  in  office.  Nevertheless,  we  would  not  that  we  should 
thereby  lose  the  high  advrnt  ge  which  we  have  derived,  and 
may  yet  derive,  from  your  wise  counsel,  which  hath  been  so 
often  recommended  to  us  by  our  most  reverend  Primate. 
Wherefore,  on  affairs  of  high  moment,  we  will  call  you  to  our 
presence  in  private,  and  listen  to  your  opinion,  which,  if  it 
shall  agree  with  our  own,  we  will  deliver  to  the  chapter  as 
emanating  directly  from  ourselves ;  thus  sparing  you,  dearest 
brother,  that  seeming  victory  which  is  so  apt  to  engender 
spiritual  pride,  and  avoiding  ourselves  the  temptation  of  fall- 
ing into  that  modest  facility  of  opinion  whereby  our  office  is 
lessened  and  our  person — were  that  of  consequence — rendered 
less  important  in  the  eyes  of  the  community  over  which  we 
preside. " 

Notwithstanding  the  high  notions  which,  as  a  rigid  Cath- 
olic, Father  Eustace  entertained  of  the  sacrament  of  confes- 
sion, as  his  church  calls  it,  there  was  some  danger  that  a 
sense  of  the  ridiculous  might  have  stolen  on  him,  when  he 
heard  his  superior,  with  such  simple  cunning,  lay  out  a  little 
plan  for  availing  himself  of  the  sub-prior's  wisdom  and  ex- 
perience, while  he  should  take  the  whole  credit  to  himself. 
Yet  his  conscience  immediately  told  him  that  he  was  right. 

"  I  should  have  thought  more, "  he  reflected,  "  of  the  spiri- 
tual superior  and  less  of  the  individual.  I  should  have  spread 
my  mantle  over  the  frailties  of  my  spiritual  father,  and  done 
what  I  might  to  support  his  character,  and,  of  course,  to  ex- 
tend his  utility  among  the  brethren,  as  well  as  with  others. 
The  abbot  cannot  be  humbled  but  what  the  community  must 
be  humbled  in  his  person.  Her  boast  is,  that  all  over  her 
children,  especially  over  those  called  to  places  of  distinction, 
she  can  diffuse  those  gifts  which  are  necessary  to  render  them 
illustrious." 

Actuated  by  these  sentiments,  Father  Eustace  frankly  as- 
sented to  the  charge  which  his  superior,  even  in  that  moment 


152 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  authority,  had  rather  intimated  than  made,  and  signified 
his  humble  acquiescence  in  any  mode  of  communicating  his 
counsel  which  might  be  most  agreeable  to  the  lord  abbot,  and 
might  best  remove  from  himself  all  temptation  to  glory  in  his 
own  wisdom.  He  then  prayed  the  reverend  father  to  assign 
him  such  penance  as  might  best  suit  his  offence,  intimating, 
at  the  same  time,  that  he  had  already  fasted  the  whole  day. 

"And  it  is  that  I  complain  of,"  answered  the  abbot,  in- 
stead of  giving  him  credit  for  his  abstinence — "  it  is  these 
very  penances,  fasts,  and  vigils  of  which  we  complain,  as 
tending  only  to  generate  air  and  fumes  of  vanity,  which,  as- 
cending from  the  stomach  into  the  head,  do  but  puff  us  up 
with  vainglory  and  self -opinion.  It  is  meet  and  beseeming 
that  novices  should  undergo  fast  and  vigils ;  for  some  part  of 
every  community  must  fast,  and  young  stomachs  may  best 
endure  it.  Besides,  in  them  it  abates  wicked  thoughts,  and 
the  desire  of  worldly  delights.  But,  reverend  brother,  for 
those  to  fast  who  are  dead  and  mortified  to  the  world,  as  I 
and  thou,  is  work  of  supererogation,  and  is  but  the  matter  of 
spiritual  pride.  Wherefore,  I  enjoin  thee,  most  reverend 
brother,  go  to  the  buttery,  and  drink  two  cups  at  least  of 
good  wine,  eating  withal  a  comfortable  morsel,  such  as  may 
best  suit  thy  taste  and  stomach.  And  in  respect  that  thine 
opinion  of  thy  own  wisdom  hath  at  times  made  thee  less  con- 
formable to,  and  companionable  with,  the  weaker  and  less 
learned  brethren,  I  enjoin  thee,  during  the  said  repast,  to 
choose  for  thy  companion  our  reverend  brother  Nicolas,  and, 
without  interruption  or  impatience,  to  listen  for  a  stricken 
hour  to  his  narration  concerning  those  things  which  befell  in 
the  times  of  our  venerable  predecessor,  Abbot  Ingelram,  on 
whose  soul  may  Heaven  have  mercy !  And  for  such  holy  ex- 
ercises as  may  further  advantage  your  soul,  and  expiate  the 
faults  whereof  you  have  contritely  and  humbly  avowed  your- 
self guilty,  we  will  ponder  upon  that  matter,  and  announce 
our  will  unto  you  the  next  morning." 

It  was  remarkable  that,  after  this  memorable  evening,  the 
feelings  of  the  worthy  abbot  towards  his  adviser  were  much 
more  kindly  and  friendly  than  when  he  deemed  the  sub-prior 


THE  MONASTERY. 


153 


the  impeccable  and  infallible  person  in  whose  garment  of  vir- 
ture  and  wisdom  no  flaw  was  to  be  discerned.  It  seemed  as 
if  this  avowal  of  his  own  imperfections  had  recommended 
Father  Eustace  to  the  friendship  of  the  superior,  although  at 
the  same  time  this  increase  of  benevolence  was  attended  with 
some  circumstances,  which,  to  a  man  of  the  sub-prior's  natu- 
ral elevation  of  mind  and  temper,  were  more  grievous  than 
ever  undergoing  the  legends  of  the  dull  and  verbose  Father 
Nicolas.  For  instance,  the  abbot  seldom  mentioned  him  to 
the  other  monks  without  designing  him  "  our  beloved  Brother 
Eustace,  poor  man!"  and  now  and  then  he  used  to  warn  the 
younger  brethren  against  the  snares  of  vainglory  and  spiritual 
pride,  which  Satan  sets  for  the  more  rigidly  righteous,  with 
such  looks  and  demonstrations  as  did  all  but  expressly  desig- 
nate the  sub-prior  as  one  who  had  fallen  at  one  time  under 
such  delusions.  Upon  these  occasions  it  required  all  the  vo- 
tive obedience  of  a  monk,  all  the  philosophical  discipline  of  the 
schools,  and  all  the  patience  of  a  Christian,  to  enable  Father 
Eustace  to  endure  the  pompous  and  patronising  parade  of  his 
honest  but  somewhat  thick-headed  superior.  He  began  him- 
self to  be  desirous  of  leaving  the  monastery,  or  at  least  he 
manifestly  declined  to  interfere  with  its  affairs  in  that  marked 
and  authoritative  manner  which  he  had  at  first  practised. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

You  call  this  education,  do  you  not? 
Why,  'tis  the  forced  march  of  a  herd  of  bullocks 
Before  a  shouting  drover.   The  glad  van 
Move  on  at  ease,  and  pause  a  while  to  snatch 
A  passing  morsel  from  the  dewy  greensward  ; 
While  all  the  blows,  the  oaths,  the  indignation, 
Fall  on  the  croupe  of  the  ill-fated  laggard 
That  cripples  in  the  rear. 

Old  Play. 

Two  or  three  years  glided  on,  during  which  the  storm  of 
the  approaching  alteration  in  church  government  became  each 
day  louder  and  more  perilous.    Owing  to  the  circumstances 


154 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


which  we  have  intimated  in  the  end  of  the  last  chapter,  the 
Sub-Prior  Eustace  appeared  to  have  altered  considerably  his 
habits  of  life.  He  afforded,  on  all  extraordinary  occasions, 
to  the  abbot,  whether  privately  or  in  the  assembled  chapter, 
the  support  of  his  wisdom  and  experience ;  but  in  his  ordinary 
habits  he  seemed  now  to  live  more  for  himself,  and  less  for 
the  community,  than  had  been  his  former  practice. 

He  often  absented  himself  for  whole  days  from  the  con- 
vent ;  and  as  the  adventure  of  Glendearg  dwelt  deeply  on  his 
memory,  he  was  repeatedly  induced  to  visit  that  lonely  tower, 
and  to  take  an  interest  in  the  orphans  who  had  their  shelter 
under  its  roof.  Besides,  he  felt  a  deep  anxiety  to  know 
whether  the  volume  which  he  had  lost,  when  so  strangely  pre- 
served from  the  lance  of  the  murderer,  had  again  found  its 
way  back  to  the  Tower  of  Glendearg.  "It  was  strange,"  he 
thought,  "that  a  spirit, "  for  such  he  could  not  help  judging 
the  being  whose  voice  he  had  heard,  "  should  on  one  side  seek 
the  advancement  of  heresy,  and  on  the  other  interpose  to  save 
the  life  of  a  zealous  Catholic  priest." 

But  from  no  inquiry  which  he  made  of  the  various  inhabi- 
tants of  the  Tower  of  Glendearg  could  he  learn  that  the  copy 
of  the  translated  Scriptures  for  which  he  made  such  diligent 
inquiry  had  again  been  seen  by  any  of  them. 

In  the  mean  while,  the  good  father's  occasional  visits  were 
of  no  small  consequence  to  Edward  Glendinning  and  to  Mary 
Avenel.  The  former  displayed  a  power  of  apprehending  and 
retaining  whatever  was  taught  him  which  filled  Father  Eustace 
with  admiration.  He  was  at  once  acute  and  industrious, 
alert  and  accurate — one  of  those  rare  combinations  of  talent 
and  industry  which  are  seldom  united. 

It  was  the  earnest  desire  of  Father  Eustace  that  the  excel- 
lent qualities  thus  early  displayed  by  Edward  should  be  dedi- 
cated to  the  service  of  the  church,  to  which  he  thought  the 
youth's  own  consent  might  be  easily  obtained,  as  he  was  of 
a  calm,  contemplative,  retired  habit,  and  seemed  to  consider 
knowledge  as  the  principal  object,  and  its  enlargement  as  the 
greatest  pleasure,  in  life.  As  to  the  mother,  the  sub-prior 
had  little  doubt  that,  trained  as  she  was  to  view  the  monks 


THE  MONASTERY. 


155 


of  St.  Mary's  with  such  profound  reverence,  she  would  be  but 
too  happy  in  an  opportunity  of  enrolling  one  of  her  sons  in 
its  honoured  community.  But  the  good  father  proved  to  be 
mistaken  in  both  these  particulars. 

When  he  spoke  to  Elspeth  Glendinning  of  that  which  a 
mother  best  loves  to  hear,  the  proficiency  and  abilities  of  her 
son,  she  listened  with  a  delighted  ear.  But  when  Father 
Eustace  hinted  at  the  duty  of  dedicating  to  the  service  of  the 
church  talents  which  seemed  fitted  to  defend  and  adorn  it, 
the  dame  endeavoured  always  to  shift  the  subject;  and  when 
pressed  farther,  enlarged  on  her  own  incapacity,  as  a  lone 
woman,  to  manage  the  feu,  on  the  advantage  which  her  neigh- 
bours of  the  township  were  often  taking  of  her  unprotected 
state,  and  on  the  wish  she  had  that  Edward  might  fill  his 
father's  place,  remain  in  the  tower,  and  close  her  eyes. 

On  such  occasions  the  sub-prior  would  answer  that,  even  in 
a  worldly  point  of  view,  the  welfare  of  the  family  would  be 
best  consulted  by  one  of  the  sons  entering  into  the  community 
of  St.  Mary's,  as  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  he  would  fail 
to  afford  his  family  the  important  protection  which  he  could 
then  easily  extend  towards  them.  What  could  be  a  more 
pleasing  prospect  than  to  see  him  high  in  honour?  or  what 
more  sweet  than  to  have  the  last  duties  rendered  to  her  by  a 
son  revered  for  his  holiness  of  life  and  exemplary  manners? 
Besides,  he  endeavoured  to  impress  upon  the  dame  that  her 
eldest  son,  Halbert,  whose  bold  temper  and  headstrong  indul- 
gence of  a  wandering  humour  rendered  him  incapable  of  learn- 
ing, was,  for  that  reason,  as  well  as  that  he  was  her  eldest- 
born,'  fittest  to  bustle  through  the  affairs  of  the  world  and 
manage  the  little  fief. 

Elspeth  durst  not  directly  dissent  from  what  was  proposed, 
for  fear  of  giving  displeasure,  and  yet  she  always  had  some- 
thing to  say  against  it.  "Halbert,"  she  said,  "was  not  like 
any  of  the  neighbour  boys :  he  was  taller  by  the  head,  and 
stronger  by  the  half,  than  any  boy  of  his  years  within  the 
halidome.  But  he  was  fit  for  no  peaceful  work  that  could  be 
devised.  If  he  liked  a  book  ill,  he  liked  a  plough  or  a  pattle 
worse.    He  had  scoured  his  father's  old  broadsword,  suspend- 


156 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ed  it  by  a  belt  round  his  waist,  and  seldom  stirred  without  it. 
He  was  a  sweet  boy  and  a  gentle  if  spoken  fair,  but  cross  him 
and  he  was  a  born  devil.  In  a  word, "  she  said,  bursting  into 
tears,  "  deprive  me  of  Edward,  good  father,  and  ye  bereave 
my  house  of  prop  and  pillar;  for  my  heart  tells  me  that  Hal- 
bert  will  take  to  his  father's  gates,  and  die  his  father's  death." 

When  the  conversation  came  to  this  crisis,  the  good-hu- 
moured monk  was  always  content  to  drop  the  discussion  for 
the  time,  trusting  some  opportunity  would  occur  of  removing 
her  prejudices,  for  such  he  thought  them,  against  Edward's 
proposed  destination. 

When,  leaving  the  mother,  the  sub-prior  addressed  him- 
self to  the  son,  animating  his  zeal  for  knowledge,  and  point- 
ing out  how  amply  it  might  be  gratified  should  he  agree  to 
take  holy  orders,  he  found  the  same  repugnance  which  Dame 
Elspeth  had  exhibited.  Edward  pleaded  a  want  of  sufficient 
vocation  to  so  serious  a  profession,  his  reluctance  to  leave  his 
mother,  and  other  objections,  which  the  sub-prior  treated  as 
evasive. 

"  I  plainly  perceive, "  he  said  one  day,  in  answer  to  them, 
"that  the  devil  has  his  factors  as  well  as  Heaven,  and  that 
they  are  equally,  or,  alas!  the  former  are  perhaps  more  ac- 
tive, in  bespeaking  for  their  master  the  first  of  the  market. 
I  trust,  young  man,  that  neither  idleness,  nor  licentious  pleas- 
ure, nor  the  love  of  worldly  gain  and  worldly  grandeur,  the 
chief  baits  with  which  the  great  Fisher  of  souls  conceals  his 
hook,  are  the  causes  of  your  declining  the  career  to  which  I 
would  incite  you.  But  above  all,  I  trust — above  all,  I  hope — 
that  the  vanity  of  superior  knowledge,  a  sin  with  which  those 
who  have  made  proficiency  in  learning  are  most  frequently 
beset,  has  not  led  you  into  the  awful  hazard  of  listening  to 
the  dangerous  doctrines  which  are  now  afloat  concerning  relig- 
ion. Better  for  you  that  you  were  as  grossly  ignorant  as  the 
beasts  which  perish  than  that  the  pride  of  knowledge  should 
induce  you  to  lend  an  ear  to  the  voice  of  the  heretics."  Ed- 
ward Glendinning  listened  to  the  rebuke  with  a  downcast  look, 
and  failed  not,  when  it  was  concluded,  earnestly  to  vindicate 
himself  from  the  charge  of  having  pushed  his  studies  into  any 


THE  MONASTERY. 


157 


subjects  which  the  church  inhibited;  and  so  the  monk  was  left 
to  form  vain  conjectures  respecting  the  cause  of  his  reluctance 
to  embrace  the  monastic  state. 

It  is  an  old  proverb,  used  by  Chaucer,  and  quoted  by  Eliza- 
beth, that  "  The  greatest  clerks  are  not  the  wisest  men and 
it  is  as  true  as  if  the  poet  had  not  rhymed  or  the  queen  rea- 
soned on  it.  If  Father  Eustace  had  not  had  his  thoughts 
turned  so  much  to  the  progress  of  heresy,  and  so  little  to  what 
was  passing  in  the  tower,  he  might  have  read,  in  the  speaking 
eyes  of  Mary  Avenel,  now  a  girl  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  reasons 
which  might  disincline  her  youthful  companion  towards  the 
monastic  vows.  I  have  said,  that  she  also  was  a  promising 
pupil  of  the  good  father,  upon  whom  her  innocent  and  infan- 
tine beauty  had  an  effect  of  which  he  was  himself,  perhaps, 
unconscious.  Her  rank  and  expectations  entitled  her  to  be 
taught  the  arts  of  reading  and  writing ;  and  each  lesson  which 
the  monk  assigned  her  was  conned  over  in  company  with  Ed- 
ward, and  by  him  explained  and  re-explained,  and  again  illus- 
trated, until  she  became  perfectly  mistress  of  it. 

In  the  beginning  of  their  studies,  Halbert  had  been  their 
school  companion.  But  the  boldness  and  impatience  of  his 
disposition  soon  quarrelled  with  an  occupation  in  which,  with- 
out assiduity  and  unremitted  attention,  no  progress  was  to  be 
expected.  The  sub-prior ?s  visits  were  at  irregular  intervals, 
and  often  weeks  would  intervene  between  them,  in  which  case 
Halbert  was  sure  to  forget  all  that  had  been  prescribed  for 
him  to  learn,  and  much  which  he  had  partly  acquired  before. 
His  deficiencies  on  these  occasions  gave  him  pain,  but  it  was 
not  of  that  sort  which  produces  amendment. 

For  a  time,  like  all  who  are  fond  of  idleness,  he  endeavoured 
to  detach  the  attention  of  his  brother  and  Mary  Avenel  from 
their  task,  rather  than  to  learn  his  own,  and  such  dialogues 
as  the  following  would  ensue : 

"  Take  your  bonnet,  Edward,  and  make  haste ;  the  Laird  of 
Colmslie  is  at  the  head  of  the  glen  with  his  hounds." 

"I  care  not,  Halbert,"  answered  the  younger  brother;  "two 
brace  of  dogs  may  kill  a  deer  without  my  being  there  to  see 
them,  and  I  must  help  Mary  Avenel  with  her  lesson." 


158 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"Ay!  you  will  labour  at  the  monk's  lessons  till  you  turn 
monk  yourself, "  answered  Halbert.  "  Mary,  will  you  go  with 
me,  and  I  will  show  you  the  cushat's  nest  I  told  you  of?" 

"  I  cannot  go  with  you,  Halbert, "  answered  Mary,  "  because 
I  must  study  this  lesson ;  it  will  take  me  long  to  learn  it.  I 
am  sorry  I  am  so  dull,  for  if  I  could  get  my  task  as  fast  as 
Edward  I  should  like  to  go  with  you." 

"  Should  you,  indeed?"  said  Halbert;  "then  I  will  wait  for 
you ;  and,  what  is  more,  I  will  try  to  get  my  lesson  also. " 

With  a  smile  and  a  sigh  he  took  up  the  primer,  and  began 
heavily  to  con  over  the  task  which  had  been  assigned  him. 
As  if  banished  from  the  society  of  the  two  others,  he  sat  sad 
and  solitary  in  one  of  the  deep  window-recesses ;  and,  after  in 
in  vain  struggling  with  the  difficulties  of  his  task  and  his  dis- 
inclination to  learn  it,  he  found  himself  involuntarily  engaged 
in  watching  the  movements  of  the  other  two  students,  instead 
of  toiling  any  longer. 

The  picture  which  Halbert  looked  upon  was  delightful  in 
itself,  but  somehow  or  other  it  afforded  very  little  pleasure  to 
him.  The  beautiful  girl,  with  looks  of  simple  yet  earnest 
anxiety,  was  bent  on  disentangling  those  intricacies  which 
obstructed  her  progress  to  knowledge,  and  looking  ever  and 
anon  to  Edward  for  assistance,  while,  seated  close  by  her  side, 
and  watchful  to  remove  every  obstacle  from  her  way,  he  seemed 
at  once  to  be  proud  of  the  progress  which  his  pupil  made  and 
of  the  assistance  which  he  was  able  to  render  her.  There  was 
a  bond  betwixt  them,  a  strong  and  interesting  tie — the  desire 
of  obtaining  knowledge,  the  pride  of  surmounting  difficulties. 

Eeeling  most  acutely,  yet  ignorant  of  the  nature  and  source 
of  his  own  emotions,  Halbert  could  no  longer  endure  to  look 
upon  this  quiet  scene,  but,  starting  up,  dashed  his  book  from 
him,  and  exclaimed  aloud :  "  To  the  fiend  I  bequeath  all  books, 
and  the  dreamers  that  make  them !  I  would  a  score  of  South- 
rons would  come  up  the  glen,  and  we  should  learn  how  little 
all  this  muttering  and  scribbling  is  worth." 

Mary  Avenel  and  his  brother  started,  and  looked  at  Halbert 
with  surprise,  while  he  went  on  with  great  animation,  his  fea- 
tures swelling,  and  the  tears  starting  into  his  eyes  as  he  spoke. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


159 


"  Yes,  Mary,  I  wish  a  score  of  Southrons  came  up  the  glen  this 
very  day ;  and  you  should  see  one  good  hand,  and  one  good 
sword,  do  more  to  protect  you  than  all  the  books  that  were 
ever  opened,  and  all  the  pens  that  ever  grew  on  a  goose's 
wing. " 

Mary  looked  a  little  surprised  and  a  little  frightened  at  his 
vehemence,  but  instantly  replied  affectionately :  "  You  are 
vexed,  Halbert,  because  you  do  not  get  your  lesson  so  fast  as 
Edward  can ;  and  so  am  I,  for  I  am  as  stupid  as  you.  But 
come,  and  Edward  shall  sit  betwixt  us  and  teach  us." 

"  He  shall  not  teach  me, "  said  Halbert,  in  the  same  angry 
mood ;  "  I  never  can  teach  him  to  do  anything  that  is  honour- 
able and  manly,  and  he  shall  not  teach  me  any  of  his  monkish 
tricks.  I  hate  the  monks,  with  their  drawling  nasal  tone  like 
so  many  frogs,  and  their  long  black  petticoats  like  so  many 
women,  and  their  reverences,  and  their  lordships,  and  their 
lazy  vassals,  that  do  nothing  but  paddle  in  the  mire  with  plough 
and  harrow,  from  Yule  to  Michaelmas.  I  will  call  none  lord 
but  him  who  wears  a  sword  to  make  his  title  good ;  and  I  will 
call  none  man  but  him  that  can  bear  himself  manlike  and 
masterful." 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  peace,  brother!"  said  Edward.  "If 
such  words  were  taken  up,  and  reported  out  of  the  house,  they 
would  be  our  mother's  ruin."  - 

"  Report  them  yourself,  then,  and  they  will  be  your  making, 
and  nobody's  marring  save  mine  own.  Say  that  Halbert  Glen- 
dinning  will  never  be  vassal  to  an  old  man  with  a  cowl  and 
shaven  crown,  while  there  are  twenty  barons  who  wear  casque 
and  plume  that  lack  bold  followers.  Let  them  grant  you  these 
wretched  acres,  and  much  meal  may  they  bear  you  to  make 
your  brochan!"  He  left  the  room  hastily,  but  instantly  re- 
turned, and  continued  to  speak  with  the  same  tone  of  quick 
and  irritated  feeling.  "  And  you  need  not  think  so  much, 
neither  of  you,  and  especially  you,  Edward,  need  not  think 
so  much  of  your  parchment  book  there,  and  your  cunning  in 
reading  it.  By  my  faith,  I  will  soon  learn  to  read  as  well 
as  you ;  and — for  I  know  a  better  teacher  than  your  grim  old 
monk,  and  a  better  book  than  his  printed  breviary — and  since 


160 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


you  like  scholar-craft  so  well,  Mary  Avenel,  you  shall  see 
whether  Edward  or  I  have  most  of  it."  He  left  the  apart- 
ment, and  came  not  again. 

"  What  can  be  the  matter  with  him?"  said  Mary,  following 
Halbert  with  her  eyes  from  the  window,  as  with  hasty  and  un- 
equal steps  he  ran  up  the  wild  glen.  "  Where  can  your  brother 
be  going,  Edward?  what  book? — what  teacher  does  he  talk 
of?" 

"  It  avails  not  guessing, "  said  Edward.  "  Halbert  is  angry, 
he  knows  not  why,  and  speaks  of  he  knows  not  what;  let 
us  go  again  to  our  lessons,  and  he  will  come  home  when 
he  has  tired  himself  with  scrambling  among  the  crags  as 
usual. " 

But  Mary's  anxiety  on  account  of  Halbert  seemed  more 
deeply  rooted.    She  declined  prosecuting  the  task  in  which 
they  had  been  so  pleasingly  engaged,  under  the  excuse  of  a  , 
headache;  nor  could  Edward  prevail  upon  her  to  resume  it 
again  that  morning. 

Meanwhile  Halbert,  his  head  unbonneted,  his  features 
swelled  with  jealous  anger,  and  the  tear  still  in  his  eye,  sped 
up  the  wild  and  upper  extremity  of  the  little  valley  of  Glen- 
dearg  with  the  speed  of  a  roebuck,  choosing,  as  if  in  desperate 
defiance  of  the  difficulties  of  the  way,  the  wildest  and  most 
dangerous  paths,  and  voluntarily  exposing  himself  a  hundred 
times  to  dangers  which  he  might  have  escaped  by  turning  a 
little  aside  from  them.  It  seemed  as  if  he  wished  his  course 
to  be  as  straight  as  that  of  the  arrow  to  its  mark. 

He  arrived  at  length  in  a  narrow  and  secluded  cleuch,  or 
deep  ravine,  which  ran  down  into  the  valley,  and  contributed 
a  scanty  rivulet  to  the  supply  of  the  brook  with  which  Glen-  I 
dearg  is  watered.  Up  this  he  sped  with  the  same  precipitate 
haste  which  had  marked  his  departure  from  the  tower ;  nor 
did  he  pause  and  look  around  until  he  had  reached  the  foun- 
tain from  which  the  rivulet  had  its  rise. 

Here  Halbert  stopt  short,  and  cast  a  gloomy,  and  almost  a 
frightened,  glance  around  him.  A  huge  rock  rose  in  front, 
from  a  cleft  of  which  grew  a  wild  holly-tree,  whose  dark 
green  branches  rustled  over  the  spring  which  arose  beneath. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


161 


The  banks  on  either  hand  rose  so  high,  and  approached  each 
other  so  closely,  that  it  was  only  when  the  sun  was  at  its 
meridian  height,  and  during  the  summer  solstice,  that  its  rays 
could  reach  the  bottom  of  the  chasm  in  which  he  stood.  But 
it  was  now  summer,  and  the  hour  was  noon,  so  that  the  un- 
wonted reflection  of  the  sun  was  dancing  in  the  pellucid  foun- 
tain. 

"It  is  the  season  and  the  hour,"  said  Halbert  to  himself; 
11  and  now  I — I  might  soon  become  wiser  than  Edward  with  all 
his  pains !  Mary  should  see  whether  he  alone  is  tit  to  be  con- 
sulted, and  to  sit  by  her  side,  and  hang  over  her  as  she  reads, 
and  point  out  every  word  and  every  letter.  And  she  loves  me 
better  than  him — I  am  sure  she  does,  for  she  comes  of  noble 
blood,  and  scorns  sloth  and  cowardice.  And  do  I  myself  not 
stand  here  slothful  and  cowardly  as  any  priest  of  them  all? 
Why  should  I  fear  to  call  upon  this  form — this  shape?  Al- 
ready have  I  endured  the  vision,  and  why  not  again?  What 
can  it  do  to  me,  who  am  a  man  of  lith  and  limb,  and  and  have 
by  my  side  my  father's  sword?  Does  my  heart  beat,  do  my 
hairs  bristle,  at  the  thought  of  calling  up  a  painted  shadow, 
and  how  should  I  face  a  band  of  Southrons  in  flesh  and  blood? 
By  the  soul  of  the  first  Glendinning,  I  will  make  proof  of  the 
charm!" 

He  cast  the  leathern  brogue  or  buskin  from  his  right  foot, 
planted  himself  in  a  firm  posture,  unsheathed  his  sword,  and 
first  looking  around  to  collect  his  resolution,  he  bowed  three 
times  deliberately  towards  the  holly-tree,  and  as  often  to  the 
little  fountain,  repeating  at  the  same  time,  with  a  determined 
voice,  the  following  rhyme : 

44  Thrice  to  the  holly  brake, 
Thrice  to  the  well ; 
I  bid  thee  awake, 
White  Maid  of  Avenel ! 

Noon  gleams  on  the  lake, 

Noon  glows  on  the  fell ; 
Wake  thee,  O  wake, 

White  Maid  of  Avenel !  " 

These  lines  were  hardly  uttered,  when  there  stood  the  figure 


162  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

of  a  female  clothed  in  white,  within  three  steps  of  Halbert 
Glendinning. 

I  guess,  'twas  frightful  there  to  see 
A  lady  richly  clad  as  she — 
Beautiful  exceedingly.1 


CHAPTER  XII. 

There's  something  in  that  ancient  superstition, 

Whieh,  erring  as  it  is,  our  fancy  loves. 

The  spring  that,  with  its  thousand  crystal  bubbles, 

Bursts  from  the  bosom  of  some  desert  rock 

In  secret  solitude,  may  well  be  deem'd 

The  haunt  of  something  purer,  more  refined, 

And  mightier  than  ourselves. 

Old  Play. 

Young  Halbert  Glendinning  had  scarcely  pronounced  the 
mystical  rhymes,  when,  as  we  have  mentioned  in  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  last  chapter,  an  appearance  as  of  a  beautiful  female 
dressed  in  white  stood  within  two  yards  of  him.  His  terror 
for  the  moment  overcame  his  natural  courage,  as  well  as  the 
strong  resolution  which  he  had  formed  that  the  figure  which 
he  had  now  twice  seen  should  not  a  third  time  daunt  him. 
But  it  would  seem  there  is  something  thrilling  and  abhorrent 
to  flesh  and  blood  in  the  consciousness  that  we  stand  in  pres- 
ence of  a  being  in  form  like  to  ourselves,  but  so  different  in 
faculties  and  nature  that  we  can  neither  understand  its  pur 
poses  nor  calculate  its  means  of  pursuing  them. 

Halbert  stood  silent  and  gasped  for  breath,  his  hairs  erect- 
ing themselves  on  his  head,  his  mouth  open,  his  eyes  fixed, 
and,  as  the  sole  remaining  sign  of  his  late  determined  purpose, 
his  sword  pointed  towards  the  apparition.  At  length,  with  i 
voice  of  ineffable  sweetness,  the  White  Lady — for  by  that 
name  we  shall  distinguish  this  being — sung,  or  rather  chanted, 
the  following  lines : 


1  Coleridge's  Christabel. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


163 


11  Youth  of  the  dark  eye,  wherefore  didst  thou  call  me? 
Wherefore  art  thou  here,  if  terrors  can  appal  thee  ? 
He  that  seeks  to  deal  with  us  must  know  nor  fear  nor  failing  : 
To  coward  and  churl  our  speech  is  dark,  our  gifts  are  unavailing. 
The  breeze  that  brought  me  hither  now  must  sweep  Egyptian  ground, 
The  fleecy  cloud  on  which  I  ride  for  Araby  is  bound  ; 
The  fleecy  cloud  is  drifting  by,  the  breeze  sighs  for  my  stay, 
For  I  must  sail  a  thousand  miles  before  the  close  of  day." 

The  astonishment  of  Halbert  began  once  more  to  give  way 
to  his  resolution,  and  he  gained  voice  enough  to  say,  though 
with  a  faltering  accent,  "  In  the  name  of  God,  what  art  thou?" 

The  answer  was  in  melody  of  a  different  tone  and  meas- 
ure: 

u  What  I  am  I  must  not  show, 
What  I  am  thou  couldst  not  know. 
Something  betwixt  heaven  and  hell, 
Something  that  neither  stood  nor  fell, 
Something  that  through  thy  wit  or  will 
May  work  thee  good,  may  work  thee  ill. 
Neither  substance  quite,  nor  shadow, 
Haunting  lonely  moor  and  meadow, 
Dancing  by  the  haunted  spring, 
Riding  on  the  whirlwind's  wing ; 
Aping  in  fantastic  fashion 
Every  change  of  human  passion, 
While  o'er  our  frozen  minds  they  pass, 
Like  shadows  from  the  mirror  d  glass. 
Wayward,  fickle  is  our  mood, 
Hovering  betwixt  bad  and  good, 
Happier  than  brief-dated  man, 
Living  twenty  times  his  span  ; 
Far  less  happy,  for  we  have 
Help  nor  hope  beyond  the  grave  ! 
Man  awakes  to  joy  or  sorrow  ; 
Ours  the  sleep  that  knows  no  morrow. 
This  is  all  that  I  can  show, 
This  is  all  that  thou  mayst  know." 

The  White  Lady  paused,  and  appeared  to  await  an  answer ; 
but,  as  Halbert  hesitated  how  to  frame  his  speech,  the  vision 
seemed  gradually  to  fade,  and  become  more  and  more  incor- 
poreal. Justly  guessing  this  to  be  a  symptom  of  her  disap- 
pearance, Halbert  compelled  himself  to  say :  "  Lady,  when  I 
saw  you  in  the  glen,  and  when  you  brought  back  the  black 
book  of  Mary  of  Avenel,  thou  didst  say  I  should  one  day  learn 
to  read  it." 


164 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


The  White  Lady  replied : 

"  Ay  !  and  I  taught  thee  the  word  and  the  spell, 
To  waken  me  here  by  the  Fairies'  Well. 
But  thou  bast  loved  the  heron  and  hawk, 
More  than  to  seek  my  haunted  walk  ; 
And  thou  hast  loved  the  lance  and  the  sword, 
More  than  good  text  and  holy  word  ; 
And  thou  hast  loved  the  deer  to  track, 
More  than  the  lines  and  the  letters  black  ; 
And  thou  art  a  ranger  of  moss  and  of  wood, 
And  scornest  the  nurture  of  gentle  blood." 

"  I  will  do  so  no  longer,  fair  maiden, "  said  Halbert.  "  I 
desire  to  learn,  and  thou  didst  promise  me  th:*c,  when  I  did 
so  desire,  thou  wouldst  be  my  helper ;  I  am  no  longer  afraid 
of  thy  presence,  and  I  am  no  longer  regardless  of  instruction." 
As  he  uttered  these  words,  the  figure  of  the  White  Maiden 
grew  gradually  as  distinct  as  it  had  been  at  first;  and  what 
had  well-nigh  faded  into  an  ill-defined  and  colourless  shadow 
again  assumed  an  appearance  at  least  of  corporeal  consistency, 
although  the  hues  were  less  vivid,  and  the  outline  of  the  figure 
less  distinct  and  defined — so  at  least  it  seemed  to  Halbert — 
than  those  of  an  ordinary  inhabitant  of  the  earth.  "  Wilt 
thou  grant  my  request,"  he  said,  "fair  lady,  and  give  to  my 
keeping  the  holy  book  which  Mary  of  Avenel  has  so  often 
wept  for?" 

The  White  Lady  replied : 

11  Thy  craven  fear  my  truth  accused, 
Thine  idlehood  my  trust  abused. 
He  that  draws  to  harbour  late, 
Must  sleep  without,  or  burst  the  gate. 
There  is  a  star  for  thee  which  burn'd, 
Its  influence  wanes,  its  course  is  turn'd  ; 
Valour  and  constancy  alone 
Can  bring  thee  back  the  chance  that's  flown.'* 

"  If  I  have  been  a  loiterer,  lady, "  answered  young  Glendin- 
ning,  "  thou  shalt  now  find  me  willing  to  press  forward  with 
double  speed.  Other  thoughts  have  filled  my  mind,  other 
thoughts  have  engaged  my  heart,  within  a  brief  period — and 
by  Heaven,  other  occupations  shall  henceforward  fill  up  my 
time.  I  have  lived  in  this  day  the  space  of  years :  I  came 
hither  a  boy — I  will  return  a  man — a  man  such  as  may  con- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


165 


verse  not  only  with  his  own  kind  but  what  whatever  God  per- 
mits to  be  visible  to  him.  I  will  learn  the  contents  of  that 
mysterious  volume ;  I  will  learn  why  the  Lady  of  Avenel  loved 
it,  why  the  priests  feared,  and  would  have  stolen,  it ;  why  thou 
didst  twice  recover  it  from  their  hands.  What  mystery  is 
wrapt  in  it?  Speak,  I  conjure  thee!"  The  lady  assumed  an 
air  peculiarly  sad  and  solemn,  as,  drooping  her  head  and  fold- 
ing her  arms  on  her  bosom,  she  replied : 

"  Within  that  awful  volume  lies 
The  mystery  of  mysteries  ! 
Happiest  they  of  human  race, 
To  whom  God  has  granted  grace 
To  read,  to  fear,  to  hope,  to  pray, 
To  lift  the  latch,  and  force  the  way  ; 
And  better  had  they  ne'er  been  born, 
Who  read  to  doubt,  or  read  to  scorn." 

"Give  me  the  volume,  lady,"  said  young  Glendinning. 
"  They  call  me  idle — they  call  me  dull ;  in  this  pursuit  my 
industry  shall  not  fail,  nor,  with  God's  blessing,  shall  my  un- 
derstanding.   Give  me  the  volume." 

The  apparition  again  replied : 

"  Many  a  fathom  dark  and  deep 
I  have  laid  the  book  to  sleep  ; 
Ethereal  fires  around  it  glowing, 
Ethereal  music  ever  flowing, 

The  sacred  pledge  of  Heav'n 
All  things  revere, 
Each  in  his  sphere, 

Save  man,  for  whom  'twas  giv'n. 
Lend  thy  hand,  and  thou  shalt  spy 
Things  ne'er  seen  by  mortal  eye." 

Halbert  Glendinning  boldly  reached  his  hand  to  the  White 
Lady. 

"Fearest  thou  to  go  with  me?"  she  said,  as  his  hand  trem- 
bled at  the  soft  and  cold  touch  of  her  own : 

"  Fearest  thou  to  go  with  me  ? 
Still  it  is  free  to  thee 

A  peasant  to  dwell ; 
Thou  mayst  drive  the  dull  steer, 
And  chase  the  king's  deer, 
But  never  more  come  near 
This  haunted  well." 


166 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"If  what  thou  say  esc  be  true,"  said  the  undaunted  boy, 
"my  destinies  are  higher  than  thine  own.  There  shall  be 
neither  well  nor  wood  which  I  dare  not  visit.  No  fear  of 
aught,  natural  or  supernatural,  shall  bar  my  path  through  my 
natural  native  valley." 

He  had  scarce  uttered  the  words,  when  they  both  descended 
through  the  earth  with  a  rapidity  which  took  away  Halbert's 
breath  and  every  other  sensation,  saving  that  of  being  hurried 
on  with  the  utmost  velocity.  At  length  they  stopped  with  a 
shock  so  sudden  that  the  mortal  journeyer  through  this  un- 
known space  must  have  been  thrown  down  with  violence  had 
he  not  been  upheld  by  his  supernatural  companion. 

It  was  more  than  a  minute  ere,  looking  around  him,  he  be-  j 
held  a  grotto,  or  natural  cavern,  composed  of  the  most  splendid 
spars  and  crystals,  which  returned  in  a  thousand  prismatic 
hues  the  light  of  a  brilliant  flame  that  glowed  on  an  altar  of 
alabaster.  This  altar,  with  its  fire,  formed  the  central  point 
of  the  grotto,  which  was  of  a  round  form,  and  very  high  in  the 
roof,  resembling  in  some  respects  the  dome  of  a  cathedral.  ' 
Corresponding  to  the  four  points  of  the  compass,  there  went 
off  four  long  galleries,  or  arcades,  constructed  of  the  same 
brilliant  materials  with  the  dome  itself,  and  the  termination 
of  which  was  lost  in  darkness. 

No  human  imagination  can  conceive,  or  words  suffice  to  de- 
scribe, the  glorious  radiance  which,  shot  fiercely  forth  by  the 
flame,  was  returned  from  so  many  hundred  thousand  points  of 
reflection,  afforded  by  the  sparry  pillars  and  their  numerous 
angular  crystals.  The  fire  itself  did  not  remain  steady  and 
unmoved,  but  rose  and  fell,  sometimes  ascending  in  a  brilliant 
pyramid  of  condensed  flame  half-way  up  the  lofty  expanse,  and 
again  fading  into  a  softer  and  more  rosy  hue,  and  hovering,  as 
it  were,  on  the  surface  of  the  altar,  to  collect  its  strength  for 
another  powerful  exertion.  There  was  no  visible  fuel  by 
which  it  was  fed,  nor  did  it  emit  either  smoke  or  vapour  of 
any  kind. 

What  was  of  all  the  most  remarkable,  the  black  volume  so 
often  mentioned  lay  not  only  unconsumed,  but  untouched  in 
the  slightest  degree,  amid  this  intensity  of  fire,  which,  while 


THE  MONASTERY. 


167 


it  seemed  to  be  of  force  sufficient  to  melt  adamant,  had  no 
effect  whatever  on  the  sacred  book  thus  subjected  to  its  ut- 
most influence. 

The  White  Lady,  having  paused  long  enough  to  let  young 
Glendinning  take  a  complete  survey  of  what  was  around  him, 
now  said,  in  her  usual  chant : 

"  Here  lies  the  volume  thou  boldly  hast  sought ; 
Touch  it  and  take  it, — 'twill  dearly  be  bought !  " 

Familiarised  in  some  degree  with  marvels,  and  desperately 
desirous  of  showing  the  courage  he  had  boasted,  Halbert 
plunged  his  hand  without  hesitation  into  the  name,  trust- 
ing to  the  rapidity  of  the  motion  to  snatch  out  the  volume 
before  the  fire  could  greatly  affect  it.  But  he  was  much 
disappointed.  The  flame  instantly  caught  upon  his  sleeve, 
and  though  he  withdrew  his  hand  immediately,  yet  his  arm 
was  so  dreadfully  scorched  that  he  had  wellnigh  screamed 
with  pain.  He  suppressed  the  natural  expression  of  anguish, 
however,  and  only  intimated  the  agony  which  he  felt  by  a 
contortion  and  a  muttered  groan.  The  White  Lady  passed 
her  cold  hand  over  his  arm,  and  ere  she  had  finished  the  fol- 
lowing metrical  chant  his  pain  had  entirely  gone,  and  no  mark 
of  the  scorching  was  visible : 

11  Rash  thy  deed, 
Mortal  weed 
To  immortal  flames  applying ; 
Rasher  trust 
Has  thing  of  dust, 
On  his  own  weak  worth  relying. 
Strip  thee  of  such  fences  vain, 
Strip,  and  prove  thy  luck  again." 

Obedient  to  what  he  understood  to  be  the  meaning  of  his 
conductress,  Halbert  bared  his  arm  to  the  shoulder,  throwing 
down  the  remains  of  his  sleeve,  which  no  sooner  touched  the 
floor  on  which  he  stood  than  it  collected  itself  together, 
shrivelled  itself  up,  and  was  without  any  visible  fire  reduced 
to  light  tinder,  which  a  sudden  breath  of  wind  dispersed  into 
empty  space.  The  White  Lady,  observing  the  surprise  of  the 
youth,  immediately  repeated : 


168 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Mortal  warp  and  mortal  woof 
Cannot  brook  this  charmed  roof : 
All  that  mortal  art  hath  wrought, 
In  our  cell  returns  to  nought. 
The  molten  gold  returns  to  clay, 
The  polish' d  diamond  melts  away  ; 
All  is  alter' d,  all  is  flown, 
Nought  stands  fast  but  truth  alone. 
Not  for  that  thy  quest  give  o'er ; 
Courage  !  prove  thy  chance  once  more." 

Emboldened  by  her  words,  Halbert  Glendinning  made  a 
second  effort,  and,  plunging  his  bare  arm  into  the  flame,  took 
out  the  sacred  volume  without  feeling  either  heat  or  inconven- 
ience of  any  kind.  Astonished,  and  almost  terrified,  at  his 
own  success,  he  beheld  the  flame  collect  itself  and  shoot  up 
into  one  long  and  final  stream,  which  seemed  as  if  it  would 
ascend  to  the  very  roof  of  the  cavern,  and  then,  sinking  as 
suddenly,  became  totally  extinguished.  The  deepest  dark- 
ness ensued ;  but  Halbert  had  no  time  to  consider  his  situa- 
tion, for  the  White  Lady  had  already  caught  his  hand,  and 
they  ascended  to  upper  air  with  the  same  velocity  with  which 
they  had  sunk  into  the  earth. 

They  stood  by  the  fountain  in  the  Corrie-nan-Shian  when 
they  emerged  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth ;  but,  on  casting  a 
bewildered  glance  around  him,  the  youth  was  surprised  to  ob- 
serve that  the  shadows  had  fallen  far  to  the  east,  and  that  the 
day  was  wellnigh  spent.  He  gazed  on  his  conductress  for 
explanation ;  but  her  figure  began  to  fade  before  his  eyes  :  her 
cheeks  grew  paler,  her  features  less  distinct,  her  form  became 
shadowy,  and  blended  itself  with  the  mist  which  was  ascend- 
ing the  hollow  ravine.  What  had  late  the  symmetry  of  form, 
and  the  delicate  yet  clear  hues  of  feminine  beauty,  now  re- 
sembled the  flitting  and  pale  ghost  of  some  maiden  who  has 
died  for  love,  as  it  is  seen,  indistinctly  and  by  moonlight,  by 
her  perjured  lover. 

"Stay,  spirit!"  said  the  youth,  emboldened  by  his  success 
in  the  subterraneous  dome,  "  thy  kindness  must  not  leave  me, 
as  one  encumbered  with  a  weapon  he  knows  not  how  to  wield. 
Thou  must  teach  me  the  art  to  read  and  to  understand  this 
volume;  else,  what  avails  it  me  that  I  possess  it?" 


THE  MONASTERY. 


169 


But  the  figure  of  the  White  Lady  still  waned  before  his 
eye,  until  it  became  an  outline  as  pale  and  indistinct  as  that 
of  the  moon,  when  the  winter  morning  is  afar  advanced ;  and 
ere  she  had  ended  the  following  chant,  she  was  entirely  in- 
visible : 

44  Alas  !  alas  ! 
Not  ours  the  grace 
These  holy  characters  to  trace : 

Idle  forms  of  painted  air, 

Not  to  us  is  given  to  share 
The  boon  bestow'd  on  Adam's  race ! 

With  patience  bide, 

Heaven  will  provide 
The  fitting  time,  the  fitting  guide." 

The  form  was  already  gone,  and  now  the  voice  itself  had 
melted  away  in  melancholy  cadence,  softening,  as  if  the  being 
who  spoke  had  been  slowly  wafted  from  the  spot  where  she 
had  commenced  her  melody. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Halbert  felt  the  extremity  of 
the  terror  which  he  had  hitherto  so  manfully  suppressed. 
The  very  necessity  of  exertion  had  given  him  spirit  to  make 
it,  and  the  presence  of  the  mysterious  being,  while  it  was  a 
subject  of  fear  in  itself,  had  nevertheless  given  him  the  sense 
of  protection  being  near  to  him.  It  was  when  he  could  reflect 
with  composure  on  what  had  passed,  that  a  cold  tremor  shot 
across  his  limbs,  his  hair  bristled,  and  he  was  afraid  to  look 
around,  Lest  he  should  find  at  his  elbow  something  more  fright- 
ful than  the  first  vision.  A  breeze  arising  suddenly  realised 
the  beautiful  and  wild  idea  of  the  most  imaginative  of  our 
modern  bards : 1 

It  fann'd  his  cheek,  it  raised  his  hair, 

Like  a  meadow  gale  in  spring ; 
It  mingled  strangely  with  his  fears, 

Yet  it  felt  like  a  welcoming. 

The  youth  stood  silent  and  astonished  for  a  few  minutes. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  the  extraordinary  being  he  had  seen, 
half  his  terror,  half  his  protectress,  was  still  hovering  on  the 
gale  which  swept  past  him,  and  that  she  might  again  make 
herself  sensible  to  his  organs  of  sight.    "  Speak!"  he  said, 

»  Coleridge. 


170 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


wildly  tossing  his  arms — "speak  yet  again:  be  once  more 
present,  lovely  vision !  Thrice  have  I  now  seen  thee,  yet  the 
idea  of  thy  invisible  presence  around  or  beside  me  makes  my 
heart  beat  faster  than  if  the  earth  yawned  and  gave  up  a  de- 
mon." But  neither  sound  nor  appearance  indicated  the  pres- 
ence of  the  White  Lady,  and  nothing  preternatural  beyond 
what  he  had  already  witnessed  was  again  audible  or  visible. 
Halbert,  in  the  mean  while,  by  the  very  exertion  of  again  in- 
viting the  presence  of  this  mysterious  being,  had  recovered 
his  natural  audacity.  He  looked  around  once  more,  and  re- 
sumed his  solitary  path  down  the  valley  into  whose  recesses 
he  had  penetrated. 

Nothing  could  be  more  strongly  contrasted  than  the  storm 
of  passion  with  which  he  had  bounded  over  stock  and  crag,  in 
order  to  plunge  himself  into  the  Corrie-nan-Shian,  and  the 
sobered  mood  in  which  he  now  returned  homeward,  industri- 
ously seeking  out  the  most  practicable  path,  not  for  a  wish  to 
avoid  danger,  but  that  he  might  not  by  personal  toil  distract 
his  attention,  deeply  fixed  on  the  extraordinary  scene  which 
he  had  witnessed.  In  the  former  case  he  had  sought  by  hazard 
and  bodily  exertion  to  indulge  at  once  the  fiery  excitation  of 
passion  and  to  banish  the  cause  of  the  excitement  from  his 
recollection ;  while  now  he  studiously  avoided  all  interruption 
to  his  contemplative  walk,  lest  the  difficulty  of  the  way  should 
interfere  with  or  disturb  his  own  deep  reflections.  Thus 
slowly  pacing  forth  his  course,  with  the  air  of  a  pilgrim  rather 
than  of  a  deer  hunter,  Halbert  about  the  close  of  the  evening 
regained  his  paternal  tower. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


171 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  miller  was  of  manly  make, 

To  meet  him  was  na  mows  ; 
There  durst  na  ten  come  him  to  take, 

Sae  noited  he  their  pows. 

Christ's  Kirk  on  the  Green.1 

It  was  after  sunset,  as  we  have  already  stated,  when  Hal- 
bert  Glendinning  returned  to  the  abode  of  his  father.  The 
hour  of  dinner  was  at  noon,  and  that  of  supper  about  an  hour 
after  sunset  at  this  period  of  the  year.  The  former  had  passed 
without  Halbert's  appearing;  but  this  was  no  uncommon  cir- 
cumstance, for  the  chase,  or  any  other  pastime  which  oc- 
curred, made  Halbert  a  frequent  neglecter  of  hours ;  and  his 
mother,  though  angry  and  disappointed  when  she  saw  him  not 
at  table,  was  so  much  accustomed  to  his  occasional  absence, 
and  knew  so  little  how  to  teach  him  more  regularity,  that  a 
testy  observation  was  almost  all  the  censure  with  which  such 
omissions  were  visited. 

On  the  present  occasion,  however,  the  wrath  of  good  Dame 
Elspeth  soared  higher  than  usual.  It  was  not  merely  on  ac- 
count of  the  special  tupVhead  and  trotters,  the  haggis  and 
the  side  of  mutton,  with  which  her  table  was  set  forth,  but 
also  because  of  the  arrival  of  no  less  a  person  than  Hob  Miller, 
as  he  was  universally  termed,  through  the  man's  name  was 
Happer. 

The  object  of  the  miller's  visit  to  the  Tower  of  Glendearg 
was,  like  the  purpose  of  those  embassies  which  potentates 
send  to  each  other's  courts,  partly  ostensible,  partly  politic. 
In  outward  show,  Hob  came  to  visit  his  friends  of  the  hali- 
dome,  and  share  the  festivity  common  among  country  folk 
after  the  barnyard  has  been  rilled,  and  to  renew  old  intimacies 
by  new  conviviality.  But  in  very  truth  he  also  came  to  have 
an  eye  upon  the  contents  of  each  stack,  and  to  obtain  such  in- 
formation respecting  the  extent  of  the  crop  reaped  and  gathered 
in  by  each  feuar  as  might  prevent  the  possibility  of  abstracted 
multures. 

h       i  See  Motto  to  Chap.  xiii.   Note  7. 


172 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


All  the  world  knows  that  the  cultivators  of  each  barony  01 
regality,  temporal  or  spiritual,  in  Scotland,  are  obliged  to 
bring  their  corn  to  be  grinded  at  the  mill  of  the  territory,  for 
which  they  pay  a  heavy  charge,  called  the  "  intown  multures." 
I  could  speak  to  the  thirlage  of  invecta  et  illata  too,  but  let 
that  pass.  I  have  said  enough  to  intimate  that  I  talk  not 
without  book.  Those  of  the  "  sucken,"  or  enthralled  ground, 
were  liable  in  penalties  if,  deviating  from  this  thirlage  (or 
thraldom),  they  carried  their  grain  to  another  mill.  Now  such 
another  mill,  erected  on  the  lands  of  a  lay  baron,  lay  within 
a  tempting  and  convenient  distance  of  Glendearg;  and  the 
miller  was  so  obliging,  and  his  charges  so  moderate,  that  it 
required  Hob  Miller's  utmost  vigilance  to  prevent  evasions  of 
his  right  of  monopoly. 

The  most  effectual  means  he  could  devise  was  this  show  of 
good  fellowship  and  neighbourly  friendship ;  under  colour  of 
which  he  made  his  annual  cruise  through  the  barony,  num- 
bered every  cornstack,  and  computed  its  contents  by  the  boll, 
so  that  he  could  give  a  shrewd  hint  afterwards  whether  or  not 
the  grist  came  to  the  right  mill. 

Dame  Elspeth,  like  her  compeers,  was  obliged  to  take  these 
domiciliary  visits  in  the  sense  of  politeness ;  but  in  her  case 
they  had  not  occurred  since  her  husband's  death,  probably  be- 
cause the  Tower  of  Glendearg  was  distant,  and  there  was  but 
a  trifling  quantity  of  arable  or  infield  land  attached  to  it. 
This  year  there  had  been,  upon  some  speculation  of  Old  Mar- 
tin's, several  bolls  sown  in  the  outfield,  which,  the  season  be- 
ing fine,  had  ripened  remarkably  well.  Perhaps  this  circum- 
stance occasioned  the  honest  miller's  including  Glendearg,  on 
this  occasion,  in  his  annual  round. 

Dame  Glendinning  received  with  pleasure  a  visit  which  she 
used  formerly  only  to  endure  with  patience;  and  she  had 
changed  her  view  of  the  matter  chiefly,  if  not  entirely,  be- 
cause Hob  had  brought  with  him  his  daughter  Mysie,  of 
whose  features  she  could  give  so  slight  an  account,  but  whose 
dress  she  had  described  so  accurately,  to  the  sub-prior. 

Hitherto  this  girl  had  been  an  object  of  very  trifling  con- 
sideration in  the  eyes  of  the  good  widow;  but  t'r*  sub-prior's 


THE  MONASTERY. 


173 


particular  and  somewhat  mysterious  inquiries  had  set  her 
brains  to  work  on  the  subject  of  Mysie  of  the  Mill;  and  she 
had  here  asked  a  broad  question,  and  there  she  had  thrown  out 
an  innuendo,  and  there  again  she  had  gradually  led  on  to  a  con- 
versation on  the  subject  of  poor  Mysie.  And  from  all  inquiries 
and  investigations,  she  had  collected  that  Mysie  was  a  dark- 
eyed,  laughter-loving  wench,  with  cherry-cheeks,  and  a  skin 
as  white  as  her  father's  finest  bolted  flour,  out  of  which  was 
made  the  abbot's  own  wastel-bread.  For  her  temper,  she 
sung  and  laughed  from  morning  to  night ;  and  for  her  fortune, 
a  material  article,  besides  that  which  the  miller  might  have 
amassed  by  means  of  his  proverbial  golden  thumb,  Mysie  was 
to  inherit  a  good  handsome  lump  of  land,  with  a  prospect  of 
the  mill  and  mill-acres  descending  to  her  husband  on  an  easy 
lease,  if  a  fair  word  were  spoken  in  season  to  the  abbot,  and 
to  the  prior,  and  to  the  sub-prior,  and  to  the  sacristan,  and  so 
forth. 

By  turning  and  again  turning  these  advantages  over  in  her 
own  mind,  Elspeth  at  length  came  to  be  of  opinion  that  the 
only  way  to  save  her  son  Halbert  from  a  life  of  "  spur,  spear, 
and  snaffle, "  as  they  called  that  of  the  Border  riders,  from  the 
dint  of  a  cloth-yard  shaft,  or  the  loop  of  an  inch-cord,  was, 
that  he  should  marry  and  settle,  and  that  Mysie  Happer 
should  be  his  destined  bride. 

As  if  to  her  wish,  Hob  Miller  arrived  on  his  strong-built 
mare,  bearing  on  a  pillion  behind  him  the  lovely  Mysie,  with 
cheeks  like  a  peony-rose  (if  Dame  Glendinning  had  ever  seen 
one),  spirits  all  afloat  with  rustic  coquetry,  and  a  profusion 
of  hair  as  black  as  ebony.  The  beau-ideal  which  Dame  Glen- 
dinning had  been  bodying  forth  in  her  imagination  became 
unexpectedly  realised  in  the  buxom  form  of  Mysie  Happer, 
whom,  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour,  she  settled  upon  as  the 
maiden  who  was  to  fix  the  restless  and  untutored  Halbert. 
True,  Mysie,  as  the  dame  soon  saw,  was  likely  to  love  danc- 
ing round  a  May-pole  as  well  as  managing  a  domestic  concern, 
and  Halbert  was  likely  to  break  more  heads  than  he  would 
grind  stacks  of  corn.  But  then  a  miller  should  always  be 
of  manly  make,  and  has  been  described  so  since  the  days  of 


174 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Chaucer  and  James  I.  Indeed,  to  be  able  to  outdo  and  bully 
the  whole  sucken  (once  more  we  use  this  barbarous  phrase)  in 
all  athletic  exercises  was  one  way  to  render  easy  the  collection 
of  dues  which  men  would  have  disputed  with  a  less  formidable 
champion.  Then,  as  to  the  deficiencies  of  the  miller's  wife, 
the  dame  was  of  opinion  that  they  might  be  supplied  by  the 
activity  of  the  miller's  mother.  "  I  will  keep  house  for  the 
young  folk  myself,  for  the  tower  is  grown  very  lonely," 
thought  Dame  Glendinning,  "  and  to  live  near  the  kirk  will  be 
mair  comfortable  in  my  auld  age ;  and  then  Edward  may  agree 
with  his  brother  about  the  feu,  more  especially  as  he  is  a  fa- 
vourite with  the  sub-prior,  and  then  he  may  live  in  the  auld 
tower  like  his  worthy  father  before  him;  and  wha  kens  but 
Mary  Avenel,  high-blooded  as  she  is,  may  e'en  draw  in  her 
stool  to  the  chimney-nook,  and  sit  down  here  for  good  and  a'? 
It's  true  she  has  no  tocher,  but  the  like  of  her  for  beauty  and 
sense  ne'er  crossed  my  een,  and  I  have  kenn'd  every  wench 
in  the  halidome  of  St.  Mary's — ay,  and  their  mothers  that 
bore  them ;  ay,  she  is  a  sweet  and  a  lovely  creature  as  ever 
tied  snood  over  brown  hair;  ay,  and  then,  though  her  uncle 
keeps  her  out  of  her  ain  for  the  present  time,  yet  it  is  to  be 
thought  the  grey-goose  shaft  will  find  a  hole  in  his  coat  of 
proof,  as  God  help  us!  it  has  done  in  any  a  better  man's. 
And,  moreover,  if  they  should  stand  on  their  pedigree  and 
gentle  race,  Edward  might  say  to  them,  that  is,  to  her  gentle 
kith  and  kin,  'Whilk  o'  ye  was  her  best  friend  when  she  came 
down  the  glen  to  Glendearg  in  a  misty  evening,  on  a  beast 
mair  like  a  cuddie  than  aught  else?'  And  if  they  tax  him 
with  churl's  blood,  Edward  might  say  that,  forbye  the  old 
proverb,  how 

Gentle  deed 
Makes  gentle  bleid ; 

yet,  moreover,  there  comes  no  churl's  blood  from  Glendinning 

or  Brydone ;  for,  says  Edward  " 

The  hoarse  voice  of  the  miller  at  this  moment  recalled  the 
dame  from  her  reverie,  and  compelled  her  to  remember  that, 
if  she  meant  to  realise  her  airy  castle,  she  must  begin  by  laying 
the  foundation  in  civility  to  her  guest  and  his  daughter,  whom 


THE  MONASTERY. 


175 


she  was  at  that  moment  most  strangely  neglecting,  though  her 
whole  plan  turned  on  conciliating  their  favour  and  good  opin- 
ion, and  that,  in  fact,  while  arranging  matters  for  so  intimate 
a  union  with  her  company,  she  was  suffering  them  to  sit  un- 
noticed, and  in  their  riding-gear,  as  if  about  to  resume  their 
journey.  "And  so  I  say,  dame,"  concluded  the  miller,  for 
she  had  not  marked  the  beginning  of  his  speech,  "  an  ye  be 
so  busied  with  your  housewifeskep,  or  aught  else,  why  Mysie 
and  I  will  trot  our  way  down  the  glen  again  to  Johnnie  Brox- 
mouth's,  who  pressed  us  right  kindly  to  bide  with  him." 

Starting  at  once  from  her  dream  of  marriages  and  inter- 
marriages, mills,  mill-lands,  and  baronies,  Dame  Elspeth  felt 
for  a  moment  like  the  milkmaid  in  the  fable,  when  she  over- 
set the  pitcher  on  the  contents  of  which  so  many  golden 
dreams  were  founded.  But  the  foundation  of  Dame  Glendin- 
ning's  hopes  was  only  tottering,  not  overthrown,  and  she  hast- 
ened to  restore  its  equilibrium.  Instead  of  attempting  to 
account  for  her  absence  of  mind  and  want  of  attention  to  her 
guests,  which  she  might  ha  ye  found  something  difficult,  she 
assumed  the  offensive,  like  an  able  general  when  he  finds  it 
necessary,  by  a  bold  attack,  to  disguise  his  weakness. 

A  loud  exclamation  she  made,  and  a  passionate  complaint 
she  set  up  against  the  unkindness  of  her  old  friend,  "  who 
could  for  an  instant  doubt  the  heartiness  of  her  welcome  to 
him  and  to  his  hopeful  daughter ;  and  then  to  think  of  his  go- 
ing back  to  John  Broxmouth's,  when  the  auld  tower  stood 
where  it  did,  and  had  room  in  it  for  a  friend  or  two  in  the  worst 
of  times ;  and  he  too  a  neighbour  that  his  umquhile  gossip 
Simon,  blessed  be  his  cast!  used  to  think  the  best  friend  he 
had  in  the  halidome."  And  on  she  went,  urging  her  com- 
plaint with  so  much  seriousness  that  she  had  wellnigh  im- 
posed on  herself  as  well  as  upon  Hob  Miller,  who  had  no 
mind  to  take  anything  in  dudgeon,  and,  as  it  suited  his  plans 
to  pass  the  night  at  Glendearg,  would  have  been  equally  con- 
tented to  do  so  even  had  his  reception  been  less  vehemently 
hospitable. 

To  all  Elspeth' s  expostulations  on  the  unkindness  of  his 
proposal  to  leave  her  dwelling  he  answered  composedly :  "  Nay, 


176 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


dame,  what  could  I  tell?  ye  might  have  had  other  grist  to  grind, 
for  ye  looked  as  if  ye  scarce  saw  us ;  or  what  know  I?  ye  might 
bear  in  mind  the  words  Martin  and  I  had  about  the  last  barley 
ye  sawed,  for  I  ken  dry  multures  will  sometimes  stick  in  the 
throat.  A  man  seeks  but  his  awn,  and  yet  folk  shall  hold  him 
for  both  miller  and  miller's  man,  that  is,  miller  and  knave,  1 
all  the  country  over." 

"  Alas,  that  you  will  say  so,  neighbour  Hob,"  said  Dame 
Elspeth,  "  or  that  Martin  should  have  had  any  words  with  you 
about  the  mill-dues !  I  will  chide  him  roundly  for  it,  I  prom- 
ise you,  on  the  faith  of  a  true  widow.  You  know  full  well 
that  a  lone  woman  is  sore  put  upon  by  her  servants. " 

"Nay,  dame,"  said  the  miller,  unbuckling  the  broad  belt 
which  made  fast  his  cloak,  and  served,  at  the  same  time,  to 
suspend  by  his  side  a  swinging  Andrew  Ferrara,  "bear  no 
grudge  at  Martin,  for  I  bear  none.  I  take  it  on  me  as  a 
thing  of  mine  office  to  maintain  my  right  of  multure,  lock, 
and  goupen.2    And  reason  good,  for,  as  the  old  song  says, 

I  live  by  my  mill,  God  bless  her, 
She's  parent,  child,  and  wife. 

The  poor  old  slut,  I  am  beholden  to  her  for  my  living,  and 
bound  to  stand  by  her,  as  I  say  to  my  mill-knaves,  in  right 
and  in  wrong.  And  so  should  every  honest  fellow  stand  by 
his  bread-winner.  And  so,  Mysie,  ye  may  doff  your  cloak 
since  our  neighbour  is  so  kindly  glad  to  see  us ;  why,  I  think, 
we  are  as  blythe  to  see  her :  not  one  in  the  halidome  pays 
their  multures  more  duly,  sequels,  arriage  and  carriage,  and 
mill-service,  used  and  wont. " 

With  that  the  miller  hung  his  ample  cloak  without  further 
ceremony  upon  a  huge  pair  of  stag's  antlers,  which  adorned  at 
once  the  naked  walls  of  the  tower  and  served  for  what  we 
vulgarly  call  cloak-pins. 

In  the  mean  time,  Dame  Elspeth  assisted  to  disembarrass 
the  damsel  whom  she  destined  for  her  future  daughter-in-law 
of  her  hood,  mantle,  and  the  rest  of  her  riding-gear,  giving 
her  to  appear  as  beseemed  the  buxom  daughter  of  the  wealthy 


1  See  Note  8. 


2  See  The  Sequels.   Note  9. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


177 


miller,  gay  and  goodly,  in  a  white  kirtle,  the  seams  of  which 
were  embroidered  with  green  silken  lace  or  fringe,  entwined 
with  some  silver  thread.  An  anxious  glance  did  Elspeth  cast 
upon  the  good-humoured  face,  which  was  now  more  fully 
shown  to  her,  and  was  only  obscured  by  a  quantity  of  raven- 
black  hair,  which  the  maid  of  the  mill  had  restrained  by  a 
snood  of  green  silk,  embroidered  with  silver,  corresponding 
to  the  trimmings  of  her  kirtle.  The  countenance  itself  was 
exceedingly  comely — the  eyes  black,  large,  and  roguishly 
good-humoured,  the  mouth  was  small,  the  lips  well  formed, 
though  somewhat  full,  the  teeth  were  pearly  white,  and  the 
chin  had  a  very  seducing  dimple  in  it.  The  form  belonging 
to  this  joyous  face  was  full  and  round,  and  firm  and  fair.  It 
might  become  coarse  and  masculine  some  years  hence,  which 
is  the  common  fault  of  Scottish  beauty;  but  in  Mysie's  six- 
teenth year  she  had  the  shape  of  an  Hebe.  The  anxious  Els- 
peth, with  all  her  maternal  partiality,  could  not  help  admit- 
ting within  herself  that  a  better  man  than  Halbert  might  go 
farther  and  fare  worse.  She  looked  a  little  giddy,  and  Hal- 
bert was  not  nineteen ;  still  it  was  time  he  should  be  settled — 
for  to  that  point  the  dame  always  returned — and  here  was  an 
excellent  opportunity. 

The  simple  cunning  of  Dame  Elspeth  now  exhausted  itself 
in  commendations  of  her  fair  guest,  from  the  snood,  as  they 
say,  to  the  single-soled  shoe.  Mysie  listened  and  blushed 
with  pleasure  for  the  first  five  minutes;  but  ere  ten  had 
elapsed  she  began  to  view  the  old  lady's  compliments  rather 
as  subjects  of  mirth  than  of  vanity,  and  was  much  more  dis- 
posed to  laugh  at  than  to  be  nattered  with  them,  for  nature 
had  mingled  the  good-humour  with  which  she  had  endowed 
the  damsel  with  no  small  portion  of  shrewdness.  Even  Hob 
himself  began  to  tire  of  hearing  his  daughter's  praises,  and 
broke  in  with:  "Ay,  ay,  she  is  a  clever  quean  enough;  and, 
were  she  five  years  older,  she  shall  lay  a  loaded  sack  on  an 
aver  with  e'er  a  lass  in  the  halidome.  But  I  have  been  look- 
ing for  your  two  sons,  dame.  Men  say  down-bye  that  Hal- 
bert's  turned  a  wild  springald,  and  that  we  may  have  word 
of  him  from  Westmoreland  one  moonlight  night  or  another. " 
12 


178 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  God  forbid,  my  good  neighbour — God,  in  His  mercy,  for- 
bid!'^ said  Dame  Glen  dinning,  earnestly;  for  it  was  touching 
the  very  key-note  of  her  apprehensions  to  hint  any  probabil- 
ity that  Halbert  might  become  one  of  the  marauders  so  common 
in  the  age  and  country.  But,  fearful  of  having  betrayed  too 
much  alarm  on  the  subject,  she  immediately  added,  "  That 
though,  since  the  last  rout  at  Pinkie  Cleuch,  she  had  been  all 
of  a  tremble  when  a  gun  or  a '  spear  was  named,  or  when  men 
spoke  of  fighting,  yet,  thanks  to  God  and  Our  Lady,  her  sons 
were  like  to  live  and  die  honest  and  peaceful  tenants  to  the 
abbey,  as  their  father  might  have  done,  but  for  that  awful 
hosting  which  he  went  forth  to,  with  mony  a  brave  man  that 
never  returned. " 

"  Ye  need  not  tell  me  of  it,  dame/'  said  the  miller,  "since 
I  was  there  myself,  and  made  two  pair  of  legs — and  these 
were  not  mine,  but  my  mare's — worth  one  pair  of  hands.  I 
judged  how  it  would  be,  when  I  saw  our  host  break  ranks, 
with  rushing  on  through  that  broken  ploughed  field,  and  so, 
as  they  had  made  a  pricker  of  me,  I  e'en  pricked  off  with 
myself  while  the  play  was  good." 

"  Ay,  ay,  neighbour, 99  said  the  dame,  "  ye  were  aye  a  wise 
and  a  wary  man.  If  my  Simon  had  had  your  wit,  he  might 
have  been  here  to  speak  about  it  this  day ;  but  he  was  aye 
cracking  of  his  good  blood  and  his  high  kindred,  and  less 
would  not  serve  him  than  to  bide  the  bang  to  the  last,  with 
the  earls,  and  knights,  and  squires,  that  had  no  wives  to  greet 
for  them,  or  else  had  wives  that  cared  not  how  soon  they  were 
widows ;  but  that  is  not  for  the  like  of  us.  But  touching  my 
son  Halbert,  there  is  no  fear  of  him ;  for  if  it  should  be  his 
misfortune  to  be  in  the  like  case,  he  has  the  best  pair  of  heels 
in  the  halidome,  and  could  run  almost  as  fast  as  your  mare 
herself. " 

"Is  this  he,  neighbour?"  quoth  the  miller. 

"Eo,??  replied  the  mother;  "that  is  my  youngest  son,  Ed- 
ward, who  can  read  and  write  like  the  lord  abbot  himself,  if 
it  were  not  a  sin  to  say  so. " 

"  Ay, 99  said  the  miller ;  "  and  is  that  the  young  clerk  the 
sub-prior  thinks  so  much  of?    They  say  he  will  come  far  ben, 


THE  MONASTERY. 


179 


that  lad;  wha  kens  but  he  may  come  to  be  sub-prior  himself? 
As  broken  a  ship  has  come  to  land." 

"To  be  a  prior,  neighbour  miller/'  said  Edward,  "a  man 
must  first  be  a  priest,  and  for  that  I  judge  I  have  little  voca- 
tion." 

"He  will  take  to  the  pleugh-pettle,  neighbour,"  said  the 
good  dame ;  "  and  so  will  Halbert  too,  I  trust.  I  wish  you 
saw  Halbert.    Edward,  where  is  your  brother?" 

"Hunting,  I  think,"  replied  Edward;  "at  least  he  left  us 
this  morning  to  join  the  Laird  of  Colmslie  and  his  hounds.  I 
have  heard  them  baying  in  the  glen  all  day." 

"  And  if  I  had  heard  that  music, "  said  the  miller,  "  it  would 
have  done  my  heart  good,  ay,  and  maybe  taken  me  two  or  three 
miles  out  of  my  road.  When  I  was  the  miller  of  Morebattle's 
knave,  I  have  followed  the  hounds  from  Eckford  to  the  foot 
of  Hounam  Law — followed  them  on  foot,  Dame  Glendinning, 
ay,  and  led  the  chase  when  the  Laird  of  Cessford  and  his  gay 
riders  were  all  thrown  out  by  the  mosses  and  gills.  I  brought 
the  stag  on  my  back  to  Hounam  Cross,  when  the  dogs  had 
pulled  him  down.  I  think  I  see  the  old  grey  knight,  as  he 
sate  so  upright  on  his  strong  war-horse,  all  white  with  foam ; 
and  6 Miller/  said  he  to  me,  'an  thou  wilt  turn  thy  back  on 
the  mill,  and  wend  with  me,  I  will  make  a  man  of  thee.' 
But  I  chose  rather  to  abide  by  clap  and  happer,  and  the  better 
luck  was  mine ;  for  the  proud  Percy  caused  hang  five  of  the 
laird's  henchmen  at  Alnwick  for  burning  a  rickle  of  houses 
some  gate  beyond  Fowberry,  and  it  might  have  been  my  luck 
as  well  as  another  man's." 

"  Ah,  neighbour,  neighbour, "  said  Dame  Glendinning,  "  you 
were  aye  wise  and  wary ;  but  if  you  like  hunting,  I  must  say 
Halbert' s  the  lad  to  please  you.  He  hath  all  those  fair  holi- 
day terms  of  hawk  and  hound  as  ready  in  his  mouth  as  Tom 
with  the  tod's-tail,  that  is,  the  lord  abbot's  ranger." 

"  Ranges  he  not  homeward  at  dinner-time,  dame, "  demanded 
the  miller ;  "  for  we  call  noon  the  dinner-hour  at  Kennaquhair?" 

The  widow  was  forced  to  admit  that,  even  at  this  important 
period  of  the  day,  Halbert  was  frequently  absent ;  at  which 
the  miller  shook  his  head,  intimating,  at  the  same  time,  some 


180 


WAVEKLEY  NOVELS. 


allusion  to  the  proverb  of  MacFarlane's  geese,1  which  "liked 
their  play  better  than  their  meat. 99 

That  the  delay  of  dinner  might  not  increase  the  miller's 
disposition  to  prejudge  Halbert,  Dame  Glendinning  called 
hastily  on  Mary  Avenel  to  take  the  task  of  entertaining  Mysie 
Happer,  while  she  herself  rushed  to  the  kitchen,  and,  enter- 
ing at  once  into  the  province  of  Tibb  Tacket,  rummaged 
among  trenchers  and  dishes,  snatched  pots  from  the  fire,  and 
placed  pans  and  gridirons  on  it,  accompanying  her  own  feats  of 
personal  activity  with  such  a  continued  list  of  injunctions  to 
Tibb  that  Tibb  at  length  lost  patience,  and  said,  "  Here  was 
as  muckle  wark  about  meating  an  auld  miller  as  if  they  had 
been  to  banquet  the  blood  of  Bruce."  But  this,  as  it  was 
supposed  to  be  spoken  aside,  Dame  Glendinning  did  not  think 
it  convenient  to  hear. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Nay,  let  me  have  the  friends  who  eat  my  victuals 
As  various  as  my  dishes.   The  feast's  naught 
Where  one  huge  plate  prodominates.   John  Plaintext, 
He  shall  be  mighty  beef,  our  English  staple ; 
The  worthy  alderman,  a  butter' d  dumpling  ; 
Yon  pair  of  whisker' d  cornets,  ruffs  and  rees  ; 
Their  friend  the  dandy,  a  green  goose  in  sippets. 
And  so  the  board  is  spread  at  once  and  fill'd 
On  the  same  principle — variety. 

New  Play. 

66  And  what  brave  lass  is  this?"  said  Hob  Miller,  as  Mary 
Avenel  entered  the  apartment  to  supply  the  absence  of  Dame 
Elspeth  Glendinning. 

"  The  young  Lady  of  Avenel,  father, 99  said  the  Maid  of  the 
Mill,  dropping  as  low  a  courtesy  as  her  rustic  manners  en- 
abled her  to  make.  The  miller,  her  father,  doffed  his  bonnet 
and  made  his  reverence,  not  altogether  so  low  perhaps  as  if 
the  young  lady  had  appeared  in  the  pride  of  rank  and  riches, 
yet  so  as  to  give  high  birth  the  due  homage  which  the  Scotch 
for  a  length  of  time  scrupulously  rendered  to  it. 

1  See  Note  10. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


181 


Indeed,  from  having  had  her  mother's  example  before  her 
for  so  many  years,  and  from  a  native  sense  of  propriety  and 
even  of  dignity,  Mary  Avenel  had  acquired  a  demeanour 
which  marked  her  title  to  consideration,  and  effectually 
checked  any  attempt  at  familiarity  on  the  part  of  those  who 
might  be  her  associates  in  her  present  situation,  but  could 
not  be  well  termed  her  equals.  She  was  by  nature  mild,  pen- 
sive, and  contemplative,  gentle  in  disposition,  and  most  plac- 
able when  accidentally  offended ;  but  still  she  was  of  a  retired 
and  reserved  habit,  and  shunned  to  mix  in  ordinary  sports, 
even  when  the  rare  occurrence  of  a  fair  or  wake  gave  her  an 
opportunity  of  mingling  with  companions  of  her  own  age.  If 
at  such  scenes  she  was  seen  for  an  instant,  she  appeared  to 
behold  them  with  the  composed  indifference  of  one  to  whom 
their  gaiety  was  a  matter  of  no  interest,  and  who  seemed  only 
desirous  to  glide  away  from  the  scene  as  soon  as  she  possibly 
could.  Something  also  had  transpired  concerning  her  being 
born  on  All-Hallow  Eve,  and  the  powers  with  which  that  cir- 
cumstances was  supposed  to  invest  her  over  the  invisible  world. 
And  from  all  these  particulars  combined,  the  young  men  and 
women  of  the  halidome  used  to  distinguish  Mary  among  them- 
selves by  the  name  of  the  Spirit  of  Avenel,  as  if  the  fair  but 
fragile  form,  the  beautiful  but  rather  colourless  cheek,  the 
dark  blue  eye,  and  the  shady  hair,  had  belonged  rather  to  the 
immaterial  than  the  substantial  world.  The  general  tradition 
of  the  White  Lady,  who  was  supposed  to  wait  on  the  fortunes 
of  the  family  of  Avenel,  gave  a  sort  of  zest  to  this  piece  of 
rural  wit.  It  gave  great  offence,  however,  to  the  two  sons  of 
Simon  Glendinning;  and  when  the  expression  was  in  their 
presence  applied  to  the  young  lady,  Edward  was  wont  to 
check  the  petulance  of  those  who  used  it  by  strength  of  argu- 
ment, and  Halbert  by  strength  of  arm.  In  such  cases  Halbert 
had  this  advantage,  that,  although  he  could  render  no  aid  to 
his  brother's  argument,  yet,  when  circumstances  required  it, 
he  was  sure  to  have  that  of  Edward,  who  never  indeed  him- 
self commenced  a  fray,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  did  not  testify 
any  reluctance  to  enter  into  combat  in  Halbert' s  behalf,  or  in 
his  rescue. 


182 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


But  the  zealous  attachment  of  the  two  youths,  being  them- 
selves, from  the  retired  situation  in  which  they  dwelt,  com- 
parative strangers  in  the  halidome,  did  not  serve  in  any  degree 
to  alter  the  feelings  of  the  inhabitants  towards  the  young  lady, 
who  seemed  to  have  dropped  amongst  them  from  another 
sphere  of  life.  Still,  however,  she  was  regarded  with  re- 
spect, if  not  with  fondness  j  and  the  attention  of  the  sub-prior 
to  the  family,  not  to  mention  the  formidable  name  of  Julian 
Avenel,  which  every  new  incident  of  those  tumultuous  times 
tended  to  render  more  famous,  attached  to  his  niece  a  certain 
importance.  Thus  some  aspired  to  her  acquaintance  out  of 
pride,  while  the  more  timid  of  the  feuars  were  anxious  to  in- 
culcate upon  their  children  the  necessity  of  being  respectful 
to  the  noble  orphan.  So  that  Mary  Avenel,  little  loved  be- 
cause little  known,  was  regarded  with  a  mysterous  awe,  partly 
derived  from  fear  of  her  uncle's  moss-troopers,  and  partly 
from  her  own  retired  and  distant  habits,  enhanced  by  the 
superstitious  opinions  of  the  time  and  country. 

It  was  not  without  some  portion  of  this  awe  that  Mysie  felt 
herself  left  alone  in  company  with  a  young  person  so  distant 
in  rank,  and  so  different  in  bearing,  from  herself;  for  her 
worthy  father  had  taken  the  first  opportunity  to  step  out  un- 
observed, in  order  to  mark  how  the  barn-yard  was  filled,  and 
what  prospect  it  afforded  of  grist  to  the  mill.  In  youth,  how- 
ever, there  is  a  sort  of  freemasonry,  which,  without  much  con- 
versation, teaches  young  persons  to  estimate  each  other's  char- 
acter, and  places  them  at  ease  on  the  shortest  acquaintance. 
It  is  only  when  taught  deceit  by  the  commerce  of  the  world 
that  we  learn  to  shroud  our  character  from  observation,  and 
to  disguise  our  real  sentiments  from  those  with  whom  we  are 
placed  in  communion. 

Accordingly,  the  two  young  women  were  soon  engaged  in 
such  objects  of  interest  as  best  became  their  age.  They  vis- 
ited Mary  Avenel's  pigeons,  which  she  nursed  with  the  ten- 
derness of  a  mother ;  they  turned  over  her  slender  stores  of 
finery,  which  yet  contained  some  articles  that  excited  the  re^ 
spect  of  her  companion,  though  Mysie  was  too  good-humoured 
to  nourish  envy.    A  golden  rosary,  and  some  female  orna- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


183 


ments  marking  superior  rank,  had  been  rescued  in  the  mo- 
ment of  their  utmost  adversity,  more  by  Tibb  Tacket's  pres- 
ence of  mind  than  by  the  care  of  their  owner,  who  was  at  that 
sad  period  too  much  sunk  in  grief  to  pay  any  attention  to  such 
circumstances.  They  struck  Mysie  with  a  deep  impression  of 
veneration;  for,  excepting  what  the  lord  abbot  and  the  con- 
vent might  possess,  she  did  not  believe  there  was  so  much  real 
gold  in  the  world  as  was  exhibited  in  these  few  trinkets,  and 
Mary,  however  sage  and  serious,  was  not  above  being  pleased 
with  the  admiration  of  her  rustic  companion. 

Nothing,  indeed,  could  exhibit  a  stronger  contrast  than  the 
appearance  of  the  two  girls — the  good-humoured,  laughter- 
loving  countenance  of  the  Maid  of  the  Mill,  who  stood  gazing 
with  unrepressed  astonishment  on  whatever  was  in  her  unex- 
perienced eye  rare  and  costly,  and  with  a  humble,  and  at  the 
same  time  cheerful,  acquiescence  in  her  inferiority,  asking  all 
the  little  queries  about  the  use  and  value  of  the  ornaments, 
while  Mary  Avenel,  with  her  quiet,  composed  dignity  and 
placidity  of  manner,  produced  them  one  after  another  for  the 
amusement  of  her  companion. 

As  they  became  gradually  more  familiar,  Mysie  of  the  Mill 
was  just  venturing  to  ask  why  Mary  Avenel  never  appeared 
at  the  May-pole,  and  to  express  her  wonder  when  the  young 
lady  said  she  disliked  dancing,  when  a  trampling  of  horses  at 
the  gate  of  the  tower  interrupted  their  conversation. 

Mysie  flew  to  the  shot-window  in  the  full  ardour  of  unre- 
strained female  curiosity.  "  St.  Mary !  sweet  lady,  here  come 
two  well-mounted  gallants ;  will  you  step  this  way  to  look  at 
them?" 

"  No, "  said  Mary  Avenel,  "  you  shall  tell  me  who  they  are. " 

"  Well,  if  you  like  it  better, "  said  Mysie ;  "  but  how  shall 
I  know  them?  Stay,  I  do  know  one  of  them,  and  so  do  you, 
lady;  he  is  a  blythe  man,  somewhat  light  of  hand  they  say, 
but  the  gallants  of  these  days  think  no  great  harm  of  that. 
He  is  your  uncle's  henchman,  that  they  call  Christie  of  the 
Clinthill;  and  he  has  not  his  old  green  jerkin  and  the  rusty 
black-jack  over  it,  but  a  scarlet  cloak,  laid  down  with  silver 
lace  three  inches  broad,  and  a  breastplate  you  might  see  to 


184 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


dress  your  hair  in,  as  well  as  in  that  keeking-glass  in  the 
ivory  frame  that  you  showed  me  even  now.  Come,  dear  lady 
— come  to  the  shot-window  and  see  him. " 

"If  it  be  the  man  you  mean,  Mysie,"  replied  the  orphan 
of  Avenel,  "  I  shall  see  him  soon  enough,  considering  either 
the  pleasure  or  comfort  the  sight  will  give  me." 

"  Nay,  but  if  you  will  not  come  to  see  gay  Christie,"  replied 
the  Maid  of  the  Mill,  her  face  flushed  with  eager  curiosity, 
"  come  and  tell  me  who  the  gallant  is  that  is  with  him,  the 
handsomest,  the  very  lovesomest  young  man  I  ever  saw  with 
sight." 

"  It  is  my  foster-brother,  Halbert  Glendinning, "  said  Mary, 
with  apparent  indifference;  for  she  had  been  accustomed  to 
call  the  sons  of  Elspeth  her  foster-brethren,  and  to  live  with 
them  as  if  they  had  been  her  brothers  in  earnest. 

"  Nay,  by  Our  Lady,  that  it  is  not, "  said  Mysie ;  "  I  know 
the  favour  of  both  the  Glendinnings  well,  and  I  think  this 
rider  be  not  of  our  country.  He  has  a  crimson  velvet  bonnet, 
and  long  brown  hair  falling  down  under  it,  and  a  beard  on 
his  upper  lip,  and  his  chin  clean  and  close  shaved,  save  a 
small  patch  on  the  point  of  it,  and  a  sky-blue  jerkin,  slashed 
and  lined  with  white  satin,  and  trunk-hose  to  suit,  and  no 
weapon  but  a  rapier  and  dagger.  Well,  if  I  was  a  man,  I 
would  never  wear  weapon  but  the  rapier!  it  is  so  slender  and 
becoming,  instead  of  having  a  cart-load  of  iron  at  my  back, 
like  my  father's  broadsword,  with  its  great  rusty  basket-hilt. 
Do  you  not  delight  in  the  rapier  and  poniard,  lady?" 

"  The  best  sword,"  answered  Mary,  "  if  I  must  needs  answer 
a  question  of  the  sort,  is  that  which  is  drawn  in  the  best  cause, 
and  which  is  best  used  when  it  is  out  of  the  scabbard. " 

"  But  can  you  not  guess  who  this  stranger  should  be?"  said 
Mysie. 

"Indeed,  !  cannot  even  attempt  it;  but,  to  judge  by  his 
companion,  it  is  no  matter  how  little  he  is  known, "  replied 
Mary. 

"  My  benison  on  his  bonny  face,"  said  Mysie,  "  if  he  is  not 
going  to  alight  here!  Now,  I  am  as  much  pleased  as  if  my 
father  had  given  me  the  silver  ear-rings  he  has  promised  me 


THE  MONASTERY. 


185 


so  often ;  nay,  you  had  as  well  come  to  the  window,  for  you 
must  see  him  by  and  by,  whether  you  will  or  not." 

I  do  not  know  how  much  sooner  Mary  Avenel  might  have 
sought  the  point  of  observation,  if  she  had  not  been  scared 
from  it  by  the  unrestrained  curiosity  expressed  by  her  buxom 
friend ;  but  at  length  the  same  feeling  prevailed  over  her  sense 
of  dignity,  and  satisfied  with  having  displayed  all  the  indif- 
ference that  was  necessary  in  point  of  decorum,  she  no  longer 
thought  herself  bound  to  restrain  her  curiosity. 

From  the  out- shot  or  projecting  window  she  could  perceive 
that  Christie  of  the  Clinthill  was  attended  on  the  present  occa- 
sion by  a  very  gay  and  gallant  cavalier,  who,  from  the  noble- 
ness of  his  countenance  and  manner,  his  rich  and  handsome 
dress,  and  the  showy  appearance  of  his  horse  and  furniture, 
must,  she  agreed  with  her  new  friend,  be  a  person  of  some 
consequence. 

Christie  also  seemed  conscious  of  something,  which  made 
him  call  out  with  more  than  his  usual  insolence  of  manner : 
"What,  ho!  so  ho!  the  house!  Churl  peasants,  will  no  one 
answer  when  I  call?  Ho!  Martin — Tibb — Dame  Glendin- 
ning! — a  murrain  on  you,  must  we  stand  keeping  our  horses 
in  the  cold  here,  and  they  steaming  with  heat,  when  we  have 
ridden  so  sharply?" 

At  length  he  was  obeyed,  and  Old  Martin  made  his  appear- 
ance. "'Ha!?"  said  Christie,  "'art  thou  there,  old  true- 
penny?'  Here,  stable  me  these  steeds,  and  see  them  well 
bedded,  and  stretch  thine  old  limbs  by  rubbing  them  down; 
and  see  thou  quit  not  the  stable  till  there  is  not  a  turned  hair 
on  either  of  them." 

Martin  took  the  horses  to  the  stable  as  commanded,  but 
suppressed  not  his  indignation  a  moment  after  he  could  vent 
it  with  safety.  "  Would  not  any  one  think, "  he  said  to  Jas- 
per, an  old  ploughman,  who,  in  coming  to  his  assistance,  had 
heard  Christie's  imperious  injunctions,  "that  this  loon,  this 
Christie  of  the  Clinthill,  was  laird  or  lord  at  least  of  him? 
No  such  thing,  man!  I  remember  him  a  little  dirty  turnspit 
boy  in  the  house  of  Avenel,  that  everybody  in  a  frosty  morn- 
ing like  this  warmed  his  fingers  by  kicking  or  cuffing!  and 


186 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


now  he  is  a  gentleman,  and  swears,  '& — n  hhn'  and  denounce 
him, '  as  if  the  gentlemen  could  not  so  much  as  keep  their  own 
wickedness  to  themselves,  without  the  like  of  him  going  to 
hell  in  their  very  company,  and  by  the  same  road.  I  have 
as  much  a  mind  as  ever  I  had  to  my  dinner  to  go  back  and 
tell  him  to  sort  his  horse  himself,  since  he  is  as  able  as 
I  am." 

"Hout  tout,  man!"  answered  Jasper,  "keep  a  calm  sough; 
better  to  fleech  a  fool  than  fight  with  him. " 

Martin  acknowledged  the  truth  of  the  proverb,  and,  much 
comforted  therewith,  betook  himself  to  cleaning  the  stran- 
ger's horse  with  great  assiduity,  remarking,  it  was  a  pleas- 
ure to  handle  a  handsome  nag,  and  turned  over  the  other  to 
the  charge  of  Jasper.  Nor  was  it  until  Christie's  commands 
were  literally  complied  with,  that  he  deemed  it  proper,  after 
fitting  ablutions,  to  join  the  party  in  the  spence;  not  for  the 
purpose  of  waiting  upon  them,  as  a  mere  modern  reader  might 
possibly  expect,  but  that  he  might  have  his  share  of  dinner 
in  their  company. 

In  the  mean  while,  Christie  had  presented  his  companion  to 
Dame  Glendinning  as  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  a  friend  of  his  and 
of  his  master,  come  to  spend  three  or  four  days  with  little  din 
in  the  tower.  The  good  dame  could  not  conceive  how  she  was 
entitled  to  such  an  honour,  and  would  fain  have  pleaded  her 
want  of  every  sort  of  convenience  to  entertain  a  guest  of  that 
quality.  But,  indeed,  the  visitor,  when  he  cast  his  eyes  round 
the  bare  walls,  eyed  the  huge  black  chimney,  scrutinised  the 
meagre  and  broken  furniture  of  the  apartment,  and  beheld 
the  embarrassment  of  the  mistress  of  the  family,  intimated 
great  reluctance  to  intrude  upon  Dame  Glendinning  a  visit 
which  could  scarce,  from  all  appearances,  prove  otherwise 
than  an  inconvenience  to  her  and  a  penance  to  himself. 

But  the  reluctant  hostess  and  her  guest  had  to  do  with  an 
inexorable  man,  who  silenced  all  expostulation  with,  "  Such 
was  his  master's  pleasure.  And,  moreover,"  he  continued, 
"  though  the  Baron  of  Avenel's  will  must  and  ought  to  prove 
law  to  all  within  ten  miles  around  him,  yet  here,  dame,"  he 
said,  "  is  a  letter  from  your  petticoated  baron,  the  lord-priest 


THE  MONASTERY. 


187 


yonder,  who  enjoins  you,  as  you  regard  his  pleasure,  that  you 
afford  to  this  good  knight  such  decent  accommodation  as  is  in 
your  power,  suffering  him  to  live  as  privately  as  he  shall  de- 
sire. And  for  you,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,"  continued  Christie, 
"you  will  judge  for  yourself  whether  secrecy  and  safety  is  not 
more  your  object  even  now  than  soft  beds  and  high  cheer. 
And  do  not  judge  of  the  dame's  goods  by  the  semblance  of 
her  cottage ;  for  you  will  see  by  the  dinner  she  is  about  to 
spread  for  us  that  the  vassal  of  the  kirk  is  seldom  found  with 
her  basket  bare."  To  Mary  Avenel  Christie  presented  the 
stranger,  after  fche  best  fashion  he  could,  as  to  the  niece  of 
his  master  the  baron. 

While  he  thus  laboured  to  reconcile  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  to 
his  fate,  the  widow,  having  consulted  her  son  Edward  on  the 
real  import  of  the  lord  abbot's  injunction,  and  having  found 
that  Christie  had  given  a  true  exposition,  saw  nothing  else 
left  for  her  but  to  make  that  fate  as  easy  as  she  could  to  the 
stranger.  He  himself  also  seemed  reconciled  to  his  lot,  by 
some  feeling  probably  of  strong  necessity,  and  accepted  with 
a  good  grace  the  hospitality  which  the  dame  offered  with  a 
very  indifferent  one. 

In  fact,  the  dinner,  which  soon  smoked  before  the  assem- 
bled guests,  was  of  that  substantial  kind  which  warrants 
plenty  and  comfort.  Dame  Glendinning  had  cooked  it  after 
her  best  manner ;  and,  delighted  with  the  handsome  appear- 
ance which  her  good  cheer  made  when  placed  on  the  table, 
forgot  both  her  plans  and  the  vexations  which  interrupted 
them,  in  the  hospitable  duty  of  pressing  her  assembled  visi- 
tors to  eat  and  drink,  watching  every  trencher  as  it  waxed 
empty,  and  loading  it  with  fresh  supplies  ere  the  guest  could 
utter  a  negative. 

In  the  mean  while,  the  company  attentively  regarded  each 
other's  motions,  and  seemed  endeavouring  to  form  a  judgment 
of  each  other's  character.  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  condescended 
to  speak  to  no  one  but  to  Mary  Avenel,  and  on  her  he  con- 
ferred exactly  the  same  familiar  and  compassionate,  though 
somewhat  scornful,  sort  of  attention  which,  a  pretty  fellow  of 
these  days  will  sometimes  condescend  to  bestow  on  a  country 


188 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


miss  when  there  is  no  prettier  or  more  fashionable  woman 
present.  The  manner,  indeed,  was  different,  for  the  eti- 
quette of  those  times  did  not  permit  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  to 
pick  his  teeth,  or  to  yawn,  or  to  gabble  like  the  beggar  whose 
tongue  (as  he  says)  was  cut  out  by  the  Turks,  or  to  affect 
deafness  or  blindness,  or  any  other  infirmity  of  the  organs. 
But  though  the  embroidery  of  his  conversation  was  different, 
the  groundwork  was  the  same,  and  the  high-flown  and  ornate 
compliments  with  which  the  gallant  knight  of  the  sixteenth 
century  interlarded  his  conversation  were  as  much  the  off- 
spring of  egotism  and  self-conceit  as  the  jargon  of  the  cox- 
combs of  our  own  days. 

The  English  knight  was,  however,  something  daunted  at 
finding  that  Mary  Avenel  listened  with  an  air  of  indifference, 
and  answered  with  wonderful  brevity,  to  all  the  fine  things 
which  ought,  as  he  conceived,  to  have  dazzled  her  with  their 
brilliancy,  and  puzzled  her  by  their  obscurity.  But  if  he  was 
disappointed  in  making  the  desired,  or  rather  the  expected, 
impression  upon  her  whom  he  addressed,  Sir  Piercie  Shaf- 
ton's  discourse  was  marvellous  in  the  ears  of  Mysie,  the  mil- 
ler's daughter,  and  not  the  less  so  that  she  did  not  compre- 
hend the  meaning  of  a  single  word  which  he  uttered.  Indeed, 
the  gallant  knight's  language  was  far  too  courtly  to  be  under- 
stood by  persons  of  much  greater  acuteness  than  Mysie' s. 

It  was  about  this  period  that  the  "  only  rare  poet  of  his 
time,  the  witty,  comical,  facetiously  quick,  and  quickly  face- 
tious John  Lyly — he  that  sate  at  Apollo's  table,  and  to  whom 
Phoebus  gave  a  wreath  of  his  own  bays  without  snatching" 1 
— he,  in  short,  who  wrote  that  singularly  coxcomical  work, 
called  Euphues  and  his  England,  was  in  the  very  zenith  of 
his  absurdity  and  reputation.  The  quaint,  forced,  and  un- 
natural style  which  he  introduced  by  his  Anatomy  of  Wit 
had  a  fashion  as  rapid  as  it  was  momentary :  all  the  court 
ladies  were  his  scholars,  and  to  parler  Euphuisme  was  as 
necessary  a  qualification  to  a  courtly  gallant  as  those  of  un- 
derstanding how  to  use  his  rapier  or  to  dance  a  measure. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  the  Maid  of  the  Mill  was  soon  as 

1  See  John  Lyly.   Note  11. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


189 


effectually  blinded  by  the  intricacies  of  this  erudite  and  court- 
ly style  of  conversation  as  she  had  ever  been  by  the  dust  of 
her  father's  own  meal-sacks.  But  there  she  sate  with  her 
mouth  and  eyes  as  open  as  the  mill-door  and  the  two  win- 
dow s,  showing  teeth  as  white  as  her  father's  bolted  flour,  and 
endeavouring  to  secure  a  word  or  two  for  her  own  future  use 
out  of  the  pearls  of  rhetoric  which  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  scat- 
tered around  him  with  such  bounteous  profusion. 

Tor  the  male  part  of  the  company,  Edward  felt  ashamed 
of  his  own  manner  and  slowness  of  speech,  when  he  observed 
the  handsome  young  courtier,  with  an  ease  and  volubility  of 
which  he  had  no  conception,  run  over  all  the  commonplace 
topics  of  high-flown  gallantry.  It  is  true,  the  good  sense  and 
natural  taste  of  young  Glendinning  soon  informed  him  that 
the  gallant  cavalier  was  speaking  nonsense.  But,  alas !  where 
is  the  man  of  modest  merit  and  real  talent  who  has  not  suf- 
fered from  being  outshone  in  conversation,  and  outstripped 
in  the  race  of  life,  by  men  of  less  reserve,  and  of  qualities 
more  showy,  though  less  substantial?  And  well  constituted 
must  the  mind  be  that  can  yield  up  the  prize  without  envy 
to  competitors  more  worthy  than  himself. 

Edward  Glendinning  had  no  such  philosophy.  While  he 
despised  the  jargon  of  the  gay  cavalier,  he  envied  the  facility 
with  which  he  could  run  on,  as  well  as  the  courtly  grace  of 
his  tone  and  expression,  and  the  perfect  ease  and  elegance  with 
which  he  offered  all  the  little  acts  of  politeness  to  which  the 
duties  of  the  table  gave  opportunity.  And  if  I  am  to  speak 
truth,  I  must  own  that  he  envied  those  qualities  the  more  as 
they  were  all  exercised  in  Mary  Avenel's  service,  and  although 
only  so  far  accepted  as  they  could  not  be  refused,  intimated  a 
wish  on  the  stranger's  part  to  place  himself  in  her  good  graces, 
as  the  only  person  in  the  room  to  whom  he  thought  it  worth 
while  to  recommend  himself.  His  title,  rank,  and  very  hand- 
some figure,  together  with  some  sparks  of  wit  and  spirit  which 
flashed  across  the  cloud  of  nonsense  which  he  uttered,  ren- 
dered him,  as  the  words  of  the  old  song  say,  "  a  lad  for  a 
lady's  viewing" ;  so  that  poor  Edward,  with  all  his  real  worth 
and  acquired  knowledge,  in  his  homespun  doublet,  blue  cap, 


190 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  deerskin  trowsers,  looked  like  a  clown  beside  the  courtier, 
and,  feeling  the  full  inferiority,  nourished  no  good-will  to  him 
by  whom  he  was  eclipsed. 

Christie,  on  the  other  hand,  so  soon  as  he  had  satisfied  to 
the  full  a  commodious  appetite,  by  means  of  which  persons  of 
his  profession  could,  like  the  wolf  and  eagle,  gorge  themselves 
with  as  much  food  at  one  meal  as  might  serve  them  for  sev- 
eral days,  began  also  to  feel  himself  more  in  the  background 
than  he  liked  to  be.  This  worthy  had,  amongst  his  other 
good  qualities,  an  excellent  opinion  of  himself;  and,  being  of 
a  bold  and  forward  disposition,  had  no  mind  to  be  thrown  into 
the  shade  by  any  one.  With  that  impudent  familiarity  which 
such  persons  mistake  for  graceful  ease,  he  broke  in  upon  the 
knight's  finest  speeches  with  as  little  remorse  as  he  would 
have  driven  the  point  of  his  lance  through  a  laced  doublet. 

Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  a  man  of  rank  and  high  birth,  by  no 
means  encouraged  or  endured  this  familiarity,  and  requited 
the  intruder  either  with  total  neglect  or  such  laconic  replies 
as  intimated  a  sovereign  contempt  for  the  rude  spearman  who 
affected  to  converse  with  him  upon  terms  of  equality. 

The  miller  held  his  peace;  for,  as  his  usual  conversation 
turned  chiefly  on  his  clapper  and  toll-dish,  he  had  no  mind 
to  brag  of  his  wealth  in  presence  of  Christie  of  the  Clinthill, 
or  to  intrude  his  discourse  on  the  English  cavalier. 

A  little  specimen  of  the  conversation  may  not  be  out  of 
place,  were  it  but  to  show  young  ladies  what  fine  things  they 
have  lost  by  living  when  Euphuism  is  out  of  fashion. 

"  Credit  me,  fairest  lady, "  said  the  knight,  "  that  such  is 
the  cunning  of  our  English  courtiers  of  the  hodiernal  strain, 
that,  as  they  have  infinitely  refined  upon  the  plain  and  rus- 
ticial  discourse  of  our  fathers,  which,  as  I  may  say,  more  be- 
seemed the  mouths  of  country  roisterers  in  a  May-game  than 
that  of  courtly  gallants  in  a  galliard,  so  I  hold  it  ineffably 
and  unutterably  impossible  that  those  who  may  succeed  us  in 
that  garden  of  wit  and  courtesy  shall  alter  or  amend  it.  Venus 
delighteth  but  in  the  language  of  Mercury,  Bucephalus  will 
stoop  to  no  one  but  Alexander,  none  can  sound  Apollo's  pipe 
but  Orpheus." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


191 


"  Valiant  sir, "  said  Mary,  who  could  scarce  help  laughing, 
"  we  have  but  to  rejoice  in  the  chance  which  hath  honoured 
this  solitude  with  a  glimpse  of  the  sun  of  courtesy,  though  it 
rather  blinds  than  enlightens  us." 

"  Pretty  and  quaint,  fairest  lady, "  answered  the  Euphuist. 
"  Ah,  that  I  had  with  me  my  Anatomy  of  Wit — that  all-to-be- 
unparalleled  volume — that  quintessence  of  human  wit — that 
treasury  of  quaint  invention — that  exquisitely -pleasant-to- 
read,  and  inevitably-necessary-to-be-remembered  manual  of 
all  that  is  worthy  to  be  known — which  indoctrines  the  rude 
in  civility,  the  dull  in  intellectuality,  the  heavy  in  jocosity, 
the  blunt  in  gentility,  the  vulgar  in  nobility,  and  all  of  them 
in  that  unutterable  perfection  of  human  utterance,  that  elo- 
quence which  no  other  eloquence  is  sufficient  to  praise,  that 
art  which,  when  we  call  it  by  its  own  name  of  Euphuism,  we 
bestow  on  it  its  richest  panegyric. " 

"  By  St.  Mary, 99  said  Christie  of  the  Clin  thill,  "  if  your  wor- 
ship had  told  me  that  you  had  left  such  stores  of  wealth  as 
you  talk  of  at  Prudhoe  Castle,  Long  Dickie  and  I  would  have 
had  them  off  with  us  if  man  and  horse  could  have  carried 
them ;  but  you  told  us  of  no  treasure  I  wot  of,  save  the  silver 
tongs  for  turning  up  your  mustachios." 

The  knight  treated  this  intruder's  mistake — for  certainly 
Christie  had  no  idea  that  all  these  epithets,  which  sounded 
so  rich  and  splendid,  were  lavished  upon  a  small  quarto  vol- 
ume— with  a  stare,  and  then  turning  again  to  Mary  Avenel, 
the  only  person  whom  he  thought  worthy  to  address,  he  pro- 
ceeded in  his  strain  of  high-flown  oratory.  "Even  thus," 
said  he,  "  do  hogs  contemn  the  splendour  of  Oriental  pearls ; 
even  thus  are  the  delicacies  of  a  choice  repast  in  vain  offered 
to  the  long-eared  grazer  of  the  common,  who  turneth  from 
them  to  devour  a  thistle.  Surely  as  idle  is  it  to  pour  forth 
the  treasures  of  oratory  before  the  eyes  of  the  ignorant,  and 
to  spread  the  dainties  of  the  intellectual  banquet  before  those 
who  are,  morally  and  metaphysically  speaking,  no  better  than 
asses." 

"Sir  knight,  since  that  is  your  quality,"  said  Edward,  "we 
cannot  strive  with  you  in  loftiness  of  language;  but  I  pray 


192 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


you  in  fair  courtesy,  while  you  honour  my  father's  house  with 
your  presence,  to  spare  us  such  vile  comparisons." 

"  Peace,  good  villagio, 99  said  the  knight,  gracefully  waving 
his  hand — "I  prithee  peace,  kind  rustic;  and  you,  my  guide,, 
whom  I  may  scarce  call  honest,  let  me  prevail  upon  you  to> 
imitate  the  laudable  taciturnity  of  that  honest  yeoman,  who 
sits  as  mute  as  a  mill-post,  and  of  that  comely  damsel,  who 
seems  as  with  her  ears  she  drank  in  what  she  did  not  alto- 
gether comprehend,  even  as  a  palfrey  listeneth  to  a  lute, 
whereof,  howsoever,  he  knoweth  not  the  gamut." 

"  Marvellous  fine  words, "  at  length  said  Dame  Glen  dinning, 
who  began  to  be  tired  of  sitting  so  long  silent — "  marvellous 
fine  words,  neighbour  Happer,  are  they  not?" 

"Brave  words — very  brave  words — very  exceeding  pyefc 
words,"  answered  the  miller;  "nevertheless,  to  speak  my 
mind,  a  lippy  of  bran  were  worth  a  bushel  o'  them." 

"I  think  so  too,  under  his  worship's  favour,"  answered 
Christie  of  the  Clinthill.  "  I  well  remember  that  at  the  race 
of  Morham,  as  we  called  it,  near  Berwick,  I  took  a  young 
Southern  fellow  out  of  saddle  with  my  lance,  and  cast  him, 
it  might  be,  a  gad's  length  from  his  nag;  and  so,  as  he  had 
some  gold  on  his  laced-  doublet,  I  deemed  he  might  ha'  the 
like  on  it  in  his  pocket  too,  though  that  is  a  rule  that  does 
not  aye  hold  gopd.  So  I  was  speaking  to  him  of  ransom,  and 
out  he  comes  with  a  handful  of  such  terms  as  his  honour  there 
hath  gleaned  up,  and  craved  me  for  mercy,  as  I  was  a  true 
son  of  Mars,  and  such-like." 

"  And  obtained  no  mercy  at  thy  hand,  I  dare  be  sworn, ;; 
said  the  knight,  who  deigned  not  to  speak  Euphuism  except- 
ing to  the  fair  sex. 

"  By  my  troggs, "  replied  Christie,  "  I  would  have  thrust  my 
lance  down  his  throat,  but  just  then  they  flung  open  that  ac- 
cursed postern  gate,  and  forth  pricked  old  Hunsdon,  and  Henry 
Carey,  and  as  many  fellows  at  their  heels  as  turned  the  chase 
northward  again.  So  I  e'en  pricked  Bayard  with  the  spur, 
and  went  off  with  the  rest;  for  a  man  should  ride  when  he 
may  not  wresiie,  as  they  say  in  Tynedale." 

"  Trust  me, "  said  the  knight,  again  turning  to  Mary  Av- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


193 


enel,  "  if  I  do  not  pity  you,  lady,  who,  being  of  noble  blood, 
are  thus  in  a  manner  compelled  to  abide  in  the  cottage  of  the 
ignorant,  like  the  precious  stone  in  the  head  of  a  toad,  or 
like  a  precious  garland  on  the  brow  of  an  ass.  But  soft,  what 
gallant  have  we  here,  whose  garb  savoureth  more  of  the  rustic 
than  doth  his  demeanour,  and  whose  looks  seem  more  lofty 
than  his  habit,  even  as  ?" 

"I  pray  you,  sir  knight, 99  said  Mary,  "to  spare  your  courtly 
similitudes  for  refined  ears,  and  give  me  leave  to  name  unto 
you  my  foster-brother,  Halbert  Glendinning. 99 

"  The  son  of  the  good  dame  of  the  cottage,  as  I  opine, "  an- 
swered the  English  knight ;  "  for  by  some  such  name  did  my 
guide  discriminate  the  mistress  of  this  mansion,  which  you, 
madam,  enrich  with  your  presence.  And  yet,  touching  this 
juvenal,  he  hath  that  about  him  which  belongeth  to  higher 
birth,  for  all  are  not  black  who  dig  coals  " 

"  Nor  all  white  who  are  millers, "  said  honest  Happer,  glad 
to  get  in  a  word,  as  they  say,  edgeways. 

Halbert,  who  had  sustained  the  glance  of  the  Englishman 
with  some  impatience,  and  knew  not  what  to  make  of  his 
manner  and  language,  replied  with  some  asperity :  "  Sir  knight, 
we  have  in  this  land  of  Scotland  an  ancient  saying,  '  Scorn 
not  the  bush  that  bields  you? :  you  are  a  guest  in  my  father's 
house  to  shelter  you  from  danger,  if  I  am  rightly  informed  by 
the  domestics.  Scoff  not  its  homeliness  or  that  of  its  inmates ; 
ye  might  long  have  bidden  at  the  court  of  England  ere  we  had 
sought  your  favour  or  cumbered  you  with  our  society.  Since 
your  fate  has  sent  you  hither  amongst  us,  be  contented  with 
such  fare  and  such  converse  as  we  can  afford  you,  and  scorn 
us  not  for  our  kindness ;  for  the  Scots  wear  short  patience 
and  long  daggers." 

All  eyes  were  turned  on  Halbert  while  he  was  thus  speak- 
ing, and  there  was  a  general  feeling  that  his  countenance  had 
an  expression  of  intelligence,  and  his  person  an  air  of  dignity, 
which  they  had  never  before  observed.  Whether  it  were  that 
the  wonderful  being  with  whom  he  had  so  lately  held  commu- 
nication had  bestowed  on  him  a  grace  and  dignity  of  look  and 
bearing  which  he  had  not  before,  or  whether  the  being  con- 


194 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


versant  in  high  matters,  and  called  to  a  destiny  beyond  that 
of  other  men,  had  a  natural  effect  in  giving  becoming  confi- 
dence to  his  language  and  manner,  we  pretend  not  to  deter- 
mine. But  it  was  evident  to  all  that,  from  this  day,  young 
Halbert  was  an  altered  man ;  that  he  acted  with  the  steadi- 
ness, promptitude,  and  determination  which  belonged  to  riper 
years,  and  bore  himself  with  a  manner  which  appertained  to 
higher  rank. 

The  knight  took  the  rebuke  with  good-humour.  "By 
mine  honour,"  he  said,  "thou  hast  reason  on  thy  side,  good 
juvenal;  nevertheless,  I  spoke  not  as  in  ridicule  of  the  roof 
which  relieves  me,  but  rather  in  your  own  praise,  to  whom,  if 
this  roof  be  native,  thou  mayest  nevertheless  rise  from  its 
lowliness;  even  as  the  lark,  which  maketh  its  humble  nest 
in  the  furrow,  ascendeth  towards  the  sun,  as  well  as  the  eagle 
which  buildeth  her  eyrie  in  the  cliff." 

This  high-flown  discourse  was  interrupted  by  Dame  Glen- 
dinning,  who,  with  all  the  busy  anxiety  of  a  mother,  was 
loading  her  son's  trencher  with  food,  and  dinning  in  his  ear 
her  reproaches  on  account  of  his  prolonged  absence.  "  And 
see, 99  she  said,  "  that  you  do  not  one  day  get  such  a  sight, 
while  you  are  walking  about  among  the  haunts  of  them  that 
are  not  of  our  flesh  and  bone,  as  befell  Mungo  Murray  when 
he  slept  on  the  greensward  ring  of  the  Auld  Kirkhill  at  sun- 
set, and  wakened  at  daybreak  in  the  wild  hills  of  Breadal- 
bane.  And  see  that,  when  you  are  looking  for  deer,  the  red 
stag  does  not  gaul  you  as  he  did  Diccon  Thorburn,  who  never 
overcast  the  wound  that  he  took  from  a  buck's  horn.  And 
see,  when  you  go  swaggering  about  with  a  long  broadsword 
by  your  side,  whilk  it  becomes  no  peaceful  man  to  do,  that 
you  dinna  meet  with  them  that  have  broadsword  and  lance 
both :  there  are  enow  of  rank  riders  in  this  land,  that  neither 
fear  God  nor  regard  man." 

Here  her  eye,  "  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling,"  fell  full  upon  that 
of  Christie  of  the  Clinthill,  and  at  once  her  fears  for  hav- 
ing given  offence  interrupted  the  current  of  maternal  rebuke, 
which,  like  rebuke  matrimonial,  may  be  often  better  meant 
than  timed.    There  was  something  of  sly  and  watchful  sig- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


195 


nificance  in  Christie's  eye — an  eye  grey,  keen,  fierce,  yet  wily, 
formed  to  express  at  once  cunning  and  malice — which  made 
the  dame  instantly  conjecture  she  had  said  too  much,  while 
she  saw  in  imagination  her  twelve  goodly  cows  go  lowing 
down  the  glen  in  a  moonlight  night,  with  half  a  score  of  Bor- 
der spearmen  at  their  heels. 

Her  voice,  therefore,  sunk  from  the  elevated  tone  of  mater- 
nal authority  into  a  whimpering,  apologetic  sort  of  strain,  and 
she  proceeded  to  say :  "  It  is  no  that  I  have  ony  ill  thoughts 
of  the  Border  riders,  for  Tibb  Tacket  there  has  often  heard 
me  say  that  I  thought  spear  and  bridle  as  natural  to  a  Border 
man  as  a  pen  to  a  priest,  or  a  feather-fan  to  a  lady ;  and — 
have  you  not  heard  me  say  it,  Tibb?" 

Tibb  showed  something  less  than  her  expected  alacrity  in 
attesting  her  mistress's  deep  respect  for  the  freebooters  of 
the  southland  hills;  but,  thus  conjured,  did  at  length  reply: 
"Hout  ay,  mistress,  Fse  warrant  I  have  heard  you  say  some- 
thing like  that. " 

"Mother!"  said  Halbert,  in  a  firm  and  commanding  tone 
of  voice,  "what or  whom  is  it  that  you  fear  under  my  father's 
roof?  I  well  hope  that  it  harbours  not  a  guest  in  whose  pres- 
ence you  are  afraid  to  say  your  pleasure  to  me  or  my  broth- 
er? I  am  sorry  I  have  been  detained  so  late,  being  ignorant 
of  the  fair  company  which  I  should  encounter  on  my  return. 
I  pray  you,  let  this  excuse  suffice;  and  what  satisfies  you 
will,  I  trust,  be  nothing  less  than  acceptable  to  your  guests." 

An  answer  calculated  so  justly  betwixt  the  submission  due 
to  his  parent,  and  the  natural  feeling  of  dignity  in  one  who 
was  by  birth  master  of  the  mansion,  excited  universal  satis- 
faction. And  as  Elspeth  herself  confessed  to  Tibl?  on  the 
same' evening :  "  She  did  not  think  it  had  been  in  the  callant. 
Till  that  night,  he  took  pets  and  passions  if  he  was  spoke 
to,  and  lap  through  the  house  like  a  four-year-auld  at  the 
least  word  of  advice  that  was  minted  at  him,  but  now  he  spoke 
as  grave  and  as  douce  as  the  lord  abbot  himself.  She  kendna, 99 
she  said,  "  what  might  be  the  upshot  of  it,  but  it  was  like  he 
was  a  wonderfu'  callant  even  now." 

The  party  then  separated,  the  young  men  retiring  to  their 


196 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


apartments,  the  elder  to  their  household  cares.  While  Chris- 
tie went  to  see  his  horse  properly  accommodated,  Edward  be- 
took himself  to  his  book,  and  Halbert,  who  was  as  ingenious 
in  employing  his  hands  as  he  had  hitherto  appeared  imperfect 
in  mental  exertion,  applied  himself  to  constructing  a  place  of 
concealment  in  the  floor  of  his  apartment  by  raising  a  plank, 
beneath  which  he  resolved  to  deposit  that  copy  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures  which  had  been  so  strangely  regained  from  the  pos- 
session of  men  and  spirits. 

In  the  mean  while,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  sate  still  as  a  stone, 
in  the  chair  in  which  he  had  deposited  himself,  his  hands 
folded  on  his  breast,  his  legs  stretched  straight  out  before  him 
and  resting  upon  the  heels,  his  eyes  cast  up  to  the  ceiling  as 
if  he  had  meant  to  count  every  mesh  of  every  cobweb  with 
which  the  arched  roof  was  canopied,  wearing  at  the  same  time 
a  face  of  as  solemn  and  imperturbable  gravity  as  if  his  exist- 
ence had  depended  on  the  accuracy  of  his  calculation. 

He  could  scarce  be  roused  from  his  listless  state  of  contem- 
plative absorption  so  as  to  take  some  supper,  a  meal  at  which 
the  younger  females  appeared  not.  Sir  Piercie  stared  around 
twice  or  thrice  as  if  he  missed  something ;  but  he  asked  not 
for  them,  and  only  evinced  his  sense  of  a  proper  audience 
being  wanting  by  his  abstraction  and  absence  of  mind,  seldom 
speaking  until  he  was  twice  addressed,  and  then  replying, 
without  trope  or  figure,  in  that  plain  English  which  nobody 
could  speak  better  when  he  had  a  mind. 

Christie,  finding  himself  in  undisturbed  possession  of  the 
conversation,  indulged  all  who  chose  to  listen  with  details  of 
his  own  wild  and  inglorious  warfare,  while  Dame  Elspeth's 
curch  bristled  with  horror,  and  Tibb  Tacket,  rejoiced  to  find 
herself  once  more  in  the  company  of  a  jack-man,  listened  to 
his  tales,  like  Desdemona  to  Othello's,  with  undisguised  de- 
light. Meantime,  the  two  young  Glendinnings  were  each 
wrapped  up  in  his  own  reflections,  and  only  interrupted  in 
them  by  the  signal  to  move  bedward. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


197 


CHAPTER  XV. 

He  strikes  no  coin  'tis  true,  but  coins  new  phrases, 
And  vends  them  forth  as  knaves  vend  gilded  counters, 
Which  wise  men  scorn,  and  fools  accept  in  payment. 

Old  Play. 

In  the  morning  Christie  of  the  Clinthill  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  As  this  worthy  personage  did  seldom  pique  himself  on 
sounding  a  trumpet  before  his  movements,  no  one  was  sur- 
prised at  his  moonlight  departure,  though  some  alarm  was 
excited  lest  he  had  not  made  it  empty-handed.  So,  in  the 
language  of  the  national  ballad, 

Some  ran  to  cupboard,  and  some  to  kist, 
But  nought  was  gone  that  could  be  mist. 

All  was  in  order,  the  key  of  the  stable  left  above  the  door, 
and  that  of  the  iron  grate  in  the  inside  of  the  lock.  In  short, 
the  retreat  had  been  made  with  scrupulous  attention  to  the 
security  of  the  garrison,  and  so  far  Christie  left  them  nothing 
to  complain  of. 

The  safety  of  the  premises  was  ascertained  by  Halbert, 
who,  instead  of  catching  up  a  gun  or  a  cross-bow,  and  sally- 
ing out  for  the  day  as  had  been  his  frequent  custom,  now, 
with  a  gravity  beyond  his  years,  took  a  survey  of  all  around 
the  tower,  and  then  returned  to  the  spence,  or  public  apart- 
ment, in  which,  at  the  early  hour  of  seven,  the  morning  meal 
was  prepared. 

There  he  found  the  Euphuist  in  the  same  elegant  posture 
of  abstruse  calculation  which  he  had  exhibited  on  the  preced- 
ing evening,  his  arms  folded  in  the  same  angle,  his  eyes  turned 
up  to  the  same  cobwebs,  and  his  heels  resting  on  the  ground 
as  before.  Tired  of  this  affectation  of  indolent  importance, 
and  not  much  flattered  with  his  guest's  persevering  in  it  to 
the  last,  Halbert  resolved  at  once  to  break  the  ice,  being  de- 
termined to  know  what  circumstances  had  brought  to  the 
Tower  of  Glendinning  [Glendearg]  a  guest  at  once  so  super- 
cilious and  so  silent. 


198 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"Sir  knight,"  he  said  with  some  firmness,  "I  have  twice 
given  you  good  morning,  to  which  the  absence  of  your  mind 
hath,  I  presume,  prevented  you  from  yielding  attention,  or 
from  making  return.  This  exchange  of  courtesy  is  at  your 
pleasure  to  give  or  withhold ;  but,  as  what  I  have  farther  to 
say  concerns  your  comfort  and  your  motions  in  an  especial 
manner,  I  will  entreat  you  to  give  me  some  signs  of  attention, 
that  I  may  be  sure  I  am  not  wasting  my  words  on  a  monu- 
mental image." 

At  this  unexpected  address,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  opened  his 
eyes,  and  afforded  the  speaker  a  broad  stare;  but,  as  Halbert 
returned  the  glance  without  either  confusion  or  dismay,  the 
knight  thought  proper  to  change  his  posture,  draw  in  his  legs, 
raise  his  eyes,  fix  them  on  young  Glendinning,  and  assume 
the  appearance  of  one  who  listens  to  what  is  said  to  him. 
Nay,  to  make  his  purpose  more  evident,  he  gave  voice  to  his 
resolution  in  these  words :  "  Speak!  we  do  hear." 

"  Sir  knight, "  said  the  youth,  "  it  is  the  custom  of  this 
halidome,  or  patrimony,  of  St.  Mary's  to  trouble  with  in- 
quiries no  guests  who  receive  our  hospitality,  providing  they 
tarry  in  our  house  only  for  a  single  revolution  of  the  sun. 
We  know  that  both  criminals  and  debtors  come  hither  for 
sanctuary,  and  we  scorn  to  extort  from  the  pilgrim,  whom 
chance  may  make  our  guest,  an  avowal  of  the  cause  of  his  pil- 
grimage and  penance.  But  when  one  so  high  above  our  rank 
as  yourself,  sir  knight,  and  especially  one  to  whom  the  pos- 
session of  such  pre-eminence  is  not  indifferent,  shows  his  de- 
termination to  be  our  guest  for  a  longer  time,  it  is  our  usage 
to  inquire  of  him  whence  he  comes,  and  what  is  the  cause  of 
his  journey." 

The  English  knight  gaped  twice  or  thrice  before  he  an- 
swered, and  then  replied  in  a  bantering  tone :  "  Truly,  good 
villagio,  your  question  hath  in  it  somewhat  of  embarrass- 
ment, for  you  ask  me  of  things  concerning  which  I  am  not  as 
yet  altogether  determined  what  answer  I  may  find  it  conven- 
ient to  make.  Let  it  suffice  fchee^  kind  ju venal,  that  thou 
hast  the  lord  abbots  authority  for  treating  me  to  the  best 
of  that  power  of  thine,  which,  indeed,  may  not  always 


THE  MONASTERY. 


199 


so  well  suffice  for  my  accommodation  as  either  of  us  would 
desire." 

"  I  must  have  a  more  precise  answer  than  this,  sir  knight, " 
said  the  young  Glen  dinning. 

"Friend,"  said  the  knight,  "be  not  outrageous.  It  may 
suit  your  northern  manners  thus  to  press  harshly  upon  the 
secrets  of  thy  betters ;  but  believe  me  that,  even  as  the  lute, 
struck  by  an  unskilful  hand,  doth  produce  discords,  so  " 

At  this  moment  the  door  of  the  apartment  opened,  and 
Mary  Avenel  presented  herself.  "  But  who  can  talk  of  dis- 
cords," said  the  knight,  assuming  his  complimentary  vein  and 
humour,  "  when  the  soul  of  harmony  descends  upon  us  in  the 
presence  of  surpassing  beauty?  For  even  as  foxes,  wolves, 
and  other  animals  void  of  sense  and  reason  do  fly  from  the 
presence  of  the  resplendent  sun  of  heaven  when  he  arises  in 
his  glory,  so  do  strife,  wrath,  and  all  ireful  passions  retreat, 
and,  as  it  were,  scud  away,  from  the  face  which  now  beams 
upon  us,  with  power  to  compose  our  angry  passions,  illumi- 
nate our  errors  and  difficulties,  soothe  our  wounded  minds,  and 
lull  to  rest  our  disorderly  apprehensions;  for  as  the  heat  and 
warmth  of  the  eye  of  day  is  to  the  material  and  physical  world, 
so  is  the  eye  which  I  now  bow  down  before  to  that  of  the 
intellectual  microcosm. 99 

He  concluded  with  a  profound  bow;  and  Mary  Avenel,  gaz- 
ing from  one  to  the  other,  and  plainly  seeing  that  something 
was  amiss,  could  only  say:  "For  Heaven's  sake,  what  is  the 
meaning  of  this?" 

The  newly-acquired  tact  and  intelligence  of  her  foster- 
brother  was  as  yet  insufficient  to  enable  him  to  give  an  an- 
swer. He  was  quite  uncertain  how  he  ought  to  deal  with  a 
guest  who,  preserving  a  singularly  high  tone  of  assumed  su- 
periority and  importance,  seemed  nevertheless  so  little  serious 
in  what  he  said  that  it  was  quite  impossible  to  discern  with 
accuracy  whether  he  was  in  jest  or  earnest. 

Forming,  however,  the  internal  resolution  to  bring  Sir 
Piercie  Shafton  to  a  reckoning  at  a  more  fit  place  and  season, 
ha  resolved  to  prosecute  the  matter  no  farther  at  present ;  and 
the  entrance  of  his  mother  with  the  damsel  of  the  mill,  and 


200 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  return  of  the  honest  miller  from  the  stack-yard,  where  he 
had  been  numbering  and  calculating  the  probable  amount  of 
the  season's  grist,  rendered  further  discussion  impossible  for 
the  moment. 

In  the  course  of  the  calculation,  it  could  not  but  strike  the 
man  of  meal  and  grindstones  that,  after  the  church's  dues 
were  paid,  and  after  all  which  he  himself  could  by  any  means 
deduct  from  the  crop,  still  the  residue  which  must  revert  to 
Dame  Glendinning  could  not  be  less  than  considerable.  I 
wot  not  if  this  led  the  honest  miller  to  nourish  any  plans 
similar  to  those  adopted  by  Elspeth ;  but  it  is  certain  that  he 
accepted  with  grateful  alacrity  an  invitation  which  the  dame 
gave  to  his  daughter  to  remain  a  week  or  two  as  her  guest  at 
Glendearg. 

The  principal  persons  being  thus  in  high  good-humour  with 
each  other,  all  business  gave  place  to  the  hilarity  of  the  morn- 
ing repast ;  and  so  much  did  Sir  Piercie  appear  gratified  by 
the  attention  which  was  paid  to  every  word  that  he  uttered 
by  the  nut-brown  Mysie,  that,  notwithstanding  his  high  birth 
and  distinguished  quality,  he  bestowed  on  her  some  of  the 
more  ordinary  and  second-rate  tropes  of  his  elocution. 

Mary  Avenel,  when  relieved  from  the  awkwardness  of  feel- 
ing the  full  weight  of  his  conversation  addressed  to  herself, 
enjoyed  it  much  more;  and  the  good  knight,  encouraged  by 
those  conciliating  marks  of  approbation  from  the  sex  for 
whose  sake  he  cultivated  his  oratorical  talents,  made  speedy 
intimation  of  his  purpose  to  be  more  communicative  than  he  had 
shown  himself  in  his  conversation  with  Halbert  Glendinning, 
and  gave  them  to  understand  that  it  was  in  consequence  of  some 
pressing  danger  that  he  was  at  present  their  involuntary  guest. 

The  conclusion  of  the  breakfast  was  a  signal  for  the  separa- 
tion of  the  company.  The  miller  went  to  prepare  for  his  de- 
parture; his  daughter  to  arrange  matters  for  her  unexpected 
stay ;  Edward  was  summoned  to  consultation  by  Martin  con- 
cerning some  agricultural  matter,  in  which  Halbert  could  not 
be  brought  to  interest  himself;  the  dame  left  the  room  upon 
her  household  concerns ;  and  Mary  was  in  the  act  of  follow- 
ing her,  when  she  suddenly  recollected  that,  if  she  did  so,  the 


THE  MONASTERY. 


201 


strange  knight  and  Halbert  must  be  left  alone  together,  at  the 
risk  of  another  quarrel. 

The  maiden  no  sooner  observed  this  circumstance  than  she 
instantly  returned  from  the  door  of  the  apartment,  and,  seat- 
ing herself  in  a  small  stone  window-seat,  resolved  to  maintain 
that  curb  which  she  was  sensible  her  presence  imposed  on 
Halbert  Glendinning,  of  whose  quick  temper  she  had  some 
apprehensions. 

The  stranger  marked  her  motions,  and,  either  interpreting 
them  as  inviting  his  society,  or  obedient  to  those  laws  of  gal- 
lantry which  permitted  him  not  to  leave  a  lady  in  silence  and 
solitude,  he  instantly  placed  himself  near  to  her  side,  and 
opened  the  conversation  as  follows : 

"  Credit  me,  fair  lady, "  he  said,  addressing  Mary  Avenel, 
"  it  much  rejoiceth  me,  being,  as  I  am,  a  banished  man  from 
the  delights  of  mine  own  country,  that  I  shall  find  here,  in 
this  obscure  and  silvan  cottage  of  the  north,  a  fair  form  and 
a  candid  soul,  with  whom  I  may  explain  my  mutual  senti- 
ments. And  let  me  pray  you  in  particular,  lovely  lady,  that, 
according  to  the  universal  custom  now  predominant  in  our 
court,  the  garden  of  superior  wits,  you  will  exchange  with 
me  some  epithet  whereby  you  may  mark  my  devotion  to  your 
service.  Be  henceforward  named,  for  example,  my  Protec- 
tion, and  let  me  be  your  Affability. "  1 

"Our  northern  and  country  manners,  sir  knight,  do  not 
permit  us  to  exchange  epithets  with  those  to  whom  we  are 
strangers,"  replied  Mary  Avenel. 

"  Nay,  but  see  now, "  said  the  knight,  "  how  you  are  startled ! 
even  as  the  unbroken  steed,  which  swerves  aside  from  the 
shaking  of  a  handkerchief,  though  he  must  in  time  encounter 
the  waving  of  a  pennon.  This  courtly  exchange  of  epithets 
of  honour  is  no  more  than  the  compliments  which  pass  be- 
tween valour  and  beauty,  wherever  they  meet,  and  under 
whatever  circumstances.  Elizabeth  of  England  herself  calls 
Philip  Sidney  her  Courage,  and  he  in  return  calls  that  prin- 
cess his  Inspiration.    Wherefore,  my  fair  Protection,  for  by 

such  epithet  it  shall  be  mine  to  denominate  you  " 

1  See  Usage  of  Epithets.   Note  12. 


202 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"Not  without  the  young  lady's  consent,  sir,"  interrupted 
Halbert.  "Most  truly  do  I  hope  your  courtly  and  quaint 
breeding  will  not  so  far  prevail  over  the  more  ordinary  rules 
of  civil  behaviour." 

"Fair  tenant  of  an  indifferent  copyhold,"  replied  the 
knight,  with  the  same  coolness  and  civility  of  mien,  but  in 
a  tone  somewhat  more  lofty  than  he  used  to  the  young  lady, 
"we  do  not,  in  the  southern  parts,  much  intermingle  dis- 
course, save  with  those  with  whom  we  may  stand  on  some 
footing  of  equality ;  and  I  must,  in  all  discretion,  remind  you 
that  the  necessity  which  makes  us  inhabitants  of  the  same 
cabin  doth  not  place  us  otherwise  on  a  level  with  each  other." 

"By  St.  Mary,"  replied  young  Glendinning,  "it  is  my 
thought  that  it  does ;  for  plain  men  hold  that  he  who  asks 
the  shelter  is  indebted  to  him  who  gives  it ;  and  so  far,  there- 
fore, is  our  rank  equalised  while  this  roof  covers  us  both." 

"  Thou  art  altogether  deceived,"  answered  Sir  Piercie;  "  and 
that  thou  mayst  fully  adapt  thyself  to  our  relative  condition, 
know  that  I  account  not  myself  thy  guest,  but  that  of  thy 
master,  the  Lord  Abbot  of  St.  Mary's,  who,  for  reasons  best 
known  to  himself  and  me,  chooseth  to  administer  his  hospi- 
tality to  me  through  the  means  of  thee,  his  servant  and  vas- 
sal, who  art,  therefore,  in  good  truth,  as  passive  an  instrument 
of  my  accommodation  as  this  ill-made  and  rugged  joint-stool 
on  which  I  sit,  or  as  the  wooden  trencher  from  which  I  eat 
my  coarse  commons.  Wherefore,"  he  added,  turning  to  Mary, 
"fairest  mistress,  or  rather,  as  I  said  before,  most  lovely 
Protection  " 

Mary  Avenel  was  about  to  reply  to  him,  when  the  stern, 
fierce,  and  resentful  expression  of  voice  and  countenance  with 
which  Halbert  exclaimed,  "  Not  from  the  King  of  Scotland, 
did  he  live,  would  I  brook  such  terms!"  induced  her  to  throw 
herself  between  him  and  the  stranger,  exclaiming :  "  For  God's 
sake,  Halbert,  beware  what  you  do!" 

"Fear  not,  fairest  Protection,"  replied  Sir  Piercie,  with  the 
utmost  serenity,  "  that  I  can  be  provoked  by  this  rustical  and 
mistaught  juvenal  to  do  aught  misbecoming  your  presence  or 
mine  own  dignity;  for  as  soon  shall  the  gunner's  linstock  give 


THE  MONASTERY. 


203 


fire  unto  the  icicle,  as  the  spark  of  passion  inflame  my  blood, 
tempered  as  it  is  to  serenity  by  the  respect  due  to  the  pres- 
ence of  my  gracious  Protection." 

"You  may  well  call  her  your  protection,  sir  knight,"  said 
Halbert ;  "  by  St.  Andrew,  it  is  the  only  sensible  word  I  have 
heard  you  speak!  But  we  may  meet  where  her  protection 
shall  no  longer  afford  you  shelter." 

"  Fairest  Protection, "  continued  the  courtier,  not  even  hon- 
ouring with  a  look,  far  less  with  a  direct  reply,  the  threat  of 
the  incensed  Halbert,  "  doubt  not  that  thy  faithful  Affability 
will  be  more  commoved  by  the  speech  of  this  rudesby  than  the 
bright  and  serene  moon  is  perturbed  by  the  baying  of  the 
cottage  cur,  proud  of  the  height  of  his  own  dunghill,  which, 
in  his  conceit,  lifteth  him  nearer  unto  the  majestic  luminary." 

To  what  lengths  so  unsavoury  a  simile  might  have  driven 
Halbert' s  indignation  is  left  uncertain;  for  at  that  moment 
Edward  rushed  into  the  apartment  with  the  intelligence  that 
two  most  important  officers  of  the  convent,  the  kitchener  and 
refectioner,  were  just  arrived  with  a  sumpter  mule,  loaded 
with  provisions,  announcing  that  the  lord  abbot,  the  sub- 
prior,  and  the  sacristan  were  on  their  way  thither.  A  cir- 
cumstance so  very  extraordinary  had  never  been  recorded  in 
the  annals  of  St.  Mary's,  or  in  the  traditions  of  Glendearg, 
though  there  was  a  faint  legendary  report  that  a  certain  ab- 
bot had  dined  there  in  old  days,  after  having  been  bewildered 
in  a  hunting  expedition  amongst  the  wilds  which  lie  to  the 
northward.  But  that  the  present  lord  abbot  should  have 
taken  a  voluntary  journey  to  so  wild  and  dreary  a  spot,  the 
very  Kamtschatka  of  the  halidome,  was  a  thing  never  dreamt 
of ;  and  the  news  excited  the  greatest  surprise  in  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  family,  saving  Halbert  alone. 

This  fiery  youth  was  too  full  of  the  insult  he  had  received 
to  think  of  anything  as  unconnected  with  it.  "  I  am  glad  of 
it, "  he  exclaimed — "  I  am  glad  the  abbot  comes  hither.  I  will 
know  of  him  by  what  right  this  stranger  is  sent  hither  to 
domineer  over  us  under  our  father's  roof,  as  if  we  were 
slaves  and  not  freemen.  I  will  tell  the  proud  priest  to  his 
beard  " 


204 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Alas !  alas !  my  brother, 99  said  Edward,  "  think  what  these 
words  may  cost  thee!" 

"  And  what  will,  or  what  can,  they  cost  me,"  said  Halbert, 
"that  1  should  sacrifice  my  human  feelings  and  my  justifiable 
resentment  to  the  fear  of  what  the  abbot  can  do?" 

"Our  mother — our  mother!"  exclaimed  Edward;  "think, 
if  she  is  deprived  of  her  home,  expelled  from  her  property, 
how  can  you  amend  what  your  rashness  may  ruin?" 

"It  is  too  true,  by  Heaven!"  said  Halbert,  striking  his 
forehead.  Them  stamping  his  foot  against  the  floor  to  ex- 
press the  full  energy  of  the  passion  tG  which,  he  dared  no 
longer  give  vent,  he  turned  round  and  left  the  apartment. 

Mary  Avenel  looked  at  the  stranger  knight,  while  she  was 
endeavouring  to  frame  a  request  that  he  would  not  report  the 
intemperate  violence  of  her  foster-brother,  to  the  prejudice  of 
his  family  in  the  mind  of  the  abbot.  But  Sir  Piercie,  the 
very  pink  of  courtesy,  conjectured  her  meaning  from  her  em- 
barrassment, and  waited  not  to  be  entreated. 

"  Credit  me,  fairest  Protection, "  said  he,  "  your  Affability 
is  less  than  capable  of  seeing  or  hearing,  far  less  of  reciting 
or  reiterating,  aught  of  an  unseemly  nature  which  may  have 
chanced  while  I  enjoyed  the  Elysium  of  your  presence.  The 
winds  of  idle  passion  may  indeed  rudely  agitate  the  bosom  of 
the  rude;  but  the  heart  of  the  courtier  is  polished  to  resist 
them.  As  the  frozen  lake  receives  not  the  influence  of  the 
breeze,  even  so  " 

The  voice  of  Dame  Glendinning,  in  shrill  summons,  here 
demanded  Mary  AvenePs  attendance,  who  instantly  obeyed, 
not  a  little  glad  to  escape  from  the  compliments  and  similes 
of  this  courtlike  gallant.  Nor  was  it  apparently  less  a  relief 
on  his  part ;  for  no  sooner  was  she  past  the  threshold  jof  the 
room  than  he  exchanged  the  look  of  formal  and  elaborate  po- 
liteness which  had  accompanied  each  word  he  had  uttered 
hitherto  for  an  expression  of  the  utmost  lassitude  and  ennui; 
and  after  indulging  in  one  or  two  portentous  yawns,  broke 
forth  into  a  soliloquy. 

"What  the  foul  fiend  sent  this  wench  hither?  As  if  it 
were  not  sufficient  plague  to  be  harboured  in  a  hovel  that 


THE  MONASTERY. 


205 


would  hardly  serve  for  a  dog's  kennel  in  England,  baited  by 
a  rude  peasant-boy,  and  dependent  on  the  faith  of  a  mercenary 
ruffian,  but  I  cannot  even  have  time  to  muse  over  my  own 
mishap,  but  must  como  aloft,  frisk,  fidget,  and  make  speeches 
to  please  this  pale  hectic  phantom,  because  she  has  gentle 
blood  in  her  veins !  By  mine  honour,  setting  prejudice  aside, 
the  mill-wench  is  the  more  attractive  of  the  two.  But  pa- 
tienza,  Piercie  Shaf ton ;  thou  most  not  lose  thy  well-earned 
claim  to  be  accounted  a  devout  servant  of  the  fair  sex,  a  witty- 
brained,  prompt,  and  accomplished  courtier.  Eather  thank 
Heaven,  Piercie  Shaf  ton,  which  hath  sent  thee  a  subject, 
wherein,  without  derogating  from  thy  rank — since  the  hon- 
ours of  the  Avenel  family  are  beyond  dispute — thou  mayst 
find  a  whetstone  for  thy  witty  compliments,  a  strop  whereon 
to  sharpen  thine  acute  ingine,  a  butt  whereat  to  shoot  the  ar- 
rows of  thy  gallantry.    For  even  as  a  Bilboa  blade,  the  more 

it  is  rubbed  the  brighter  and  the  sharper  will  it  prove,  so  

But  what  need  I  waste  my  stock  of  similitudes  in  holding  con- 
verse with  myself?  Yonder  comes  the  monkish  retinue,  like 
some  half-score  of  crows  winging  their  way  slowly  up  the  val- 
ley. I  hope,  a' gad,  they  have  not  forgotten  my  trunk-mails 
of  apparel  amid  the  ample  provision  they  have  made  for  their 
own  belly-timber.  Mercy,  a' gad,  I  were  finely  holped  up  if 
the  vesture  has  miscarried  among  the  thievish  Borderers!" 

Stung  by  this  reflection,  he  ran  hastily  downstairs,  and 
caused  his  horse  to  be  saddled,  that  he  might,  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, ascertain  this  important  point,  by  meeting  the  lord  ab- 
bot and  his  retinue  as  they  came  up  the  glen.  He  had  not 
ridden  a  mile  before  he  met  them  advancing  with  the  slowness 
and  decorum  which  became  persons  of  their  dignity  and  pro- 
fession. The  knight  failed  not  to  greet  the  lord  abbot  with 
all  the  formal  compliments  with  which  men  of  rank  at  that 
period  exchanged  courtesies.  He  had  the  good  fortune  to 
find  that  his  mails  were  numbered  among  the  train  of  baggage 
which  attended  upon  the  party ;  and,  satisfied  in  that  partic- 
ular, he  turned  his  horse's  head  and  accompanied  the  abbot 
to  the  Tower  of  Glendearg. 

Great,  in  the  mean  while,  had  been  the  turmoil  of  the  good 


206 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Danie  Elspeth  and  her  coadjutors -to  prepare  for  the  fitting 
reception  of  the  father  lord  abbot  and  his  retinue.  The  monks 
had  indeed  taken  care  not  to  trust  too  much  to  the  state  of 
her  pantry ;  but  she  was  not  the  less  anxious  to  make  such 
additions  as  might  enable  her  to  claim  the  thanks  of  her  feu- 
dal lord  and  spiritual  father.  Meeting  Halbert,  as,  with  his 
blood  on  fire,  he  returned  from  his  altercation  with  her  guest, 
she  commanded  him  instantly  to  go  forth  to  the  hill,  and  not 
to  return  without  venison ;  reminding  him  that  he  was  apt 
enough  to  go  thither  for  his  own  pleasure,  and  must  now  do 
so  for  the  credit  of  the  house. 

The  miller,  who  was  now  hastening  his  journey  homewards, 
promised  to  send  up  some  salmon  by  his  own  servant.  Dame 
Elspeth,  who  by  this  time  thought  she  had  guests  enough, 
had  begun  to  repent  of  her  invitation  to  poor  Mysie,  and  was 
just  considering  by  what  means,  short  of  giving  offence,  she 
could  send  off  the  Maid  of  the  Mill  behind  her  father,  and 
adjourn  all  her  own  aerial  architecture  till  some  future  oppor- 
tunity, when  this  unexpected  generosity  on  the  part  of  the 
sire  rendered  any  present  attempt  to  return  his  daughter  on 
his  hands  too  highly  ungracious  to  be  further  thought  on.  So 
the  miller  departed  alone  on  his  homeward  journey. 

Dame  Elspeth' s  sense  of  hospitality  proved  in  this  instance 
its  own  reward;  for  Mysie  had  dwelt  too  near  the  convent  to 
be  altogether  ignorant  of  the  noble  art  of  cookery,  which  her 
father  patronised  to  the  extent  of  consuming  on  festival  days 
such  dainties  as  his  daughter  could  prepare  in  emulation  of 
the  luxuries  of  the  abbot's  kitchen.  Laying  aside,  therefore, 
her  holiday  kirtle,  and  adopting  a  dress  more  suitable  to  the 
occasion,  the  good-humoured  maiden  bared  her  snowy  arms 
above  the  elbows ;  and,  as  Elspeth  acknowledged,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  time  and  country,  took  "  entire  and  aef auld  part 
with  her"  in  the  labours  of  the  day ;  showing  unparalleled 
talent,  and  indefatigable  industry,  in  the  preparation  of  mor- 
treuxy  blanc-manger,  and  Heaven  knows  what  delicacies  be- 
sides, which  Dame  Glendinning,  unassisted  by  her  skill,  dared 
not  even  have  dreamt  of  presenting. 

Leaving  this  able  substitute  in  the  kitchen,  and  regretting 


THE  MONASTERY. 


207 


that  Mary  Avenel  was  so  brought  up  that  she  could  entrust 
uothing  to  her  care,  unless  it  might  be  seeing  the  great  cham- 
ber strewed  with  rushes,  and  ornamented  with  such  flowers  and 
branches  as  the  season  afforded,  Dame  Elspeth  hastily  donned 
her  best  attire,  and  with  a  beating  heart  presented  herself  at 
the  door  of  her  little  tower,  to  make  her  obeisance  to  the  lord 
abbot  as  he  crossed  her  humble  threshold.  Edward  stood  by 
his  mother,  and  felt  the  same  rjalpitation,  which  his  philos- 
ophy was  at  a  loss  to  account  for.  He  was  yet  to  learn  how 
long  it  is  ere  our  reason  is  enabled  to  triumph  over  the  force 
of  external  circumstances,  and  how  much  our  feelings  are  af- 
fected by  novelty,  and  blunted  by  use  and  habit. 

On  the  present  occasion,  he  witnessed  with  wonder  and  awe 
the  approach  of  some  half-score  of  riders,  sober  men  upon 
sober  palfreys,  muffled  in  their  long  black  garments,  and  only 
relieved  by  their  white  scapularies,  showing  more  like  a  fu- 
neral procession  than  aught  else,  and  not  quickening  their 
pace  beyond  that  which  permitted  easy  conversation  and  easy 
digestion.  The  sobriety  of  the  scene  was  indeed  somewhat 
enlivened  by  the  presence  of  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  who,  to  show 
that  his  skill  in  the  manege  was  not  inferior  to  his  other  ac- 
complishments, kept  alternately  pressing  and  checking  his  gay 
courser,  forcing  him  to  piaffe,  to  caracole,  to  passage,  and  to 
do  all  the  other  feats  of  the  school,  to  the  great  annoyance  of 
the  lord  abbot,  the  wonted  sobriety  of  whose  palfrey  became  at 
length  discomposed  by  the  vivacity  of  its  companion,  while 
the  dignitary  kept  crying  out  in  bodily  alarm,  "I  do  pray 

you,  sir — sir  knight — good  now,  Sir  Piercie  Be  quiet, 

Benedict,  there  is  a  good  steed — soh,  poor  fellow !"  and  ut- 
tering all  the  other  precatory  and  soothing  exclamations  by 
which  a  timid  horseman  usually  bespeaks  the  favour  of  a 
frisky  companion,  or  of  his  own  unquiet  nag,  and  concluding 
the  bead-roll  with  a  sincere  Deo  gratias  so  soon  as  he  alighted 
in  the  courtyard  of  the  Tower  of  Glendearg. 

The  inhabitants  unanimously  knelt  down  to  kiss  the  hand 
of  the  lord  abbot,  a  ceremony  which  even  the  monks  were 
often  condemned  to.  Good  Abbot  Boniface  was  too  much 
fluttered  by  the  incidents  of  the  latter  part  of  his  journey  to 


208 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


go  through  this  ceremony  with  much  solemnity,  or  indeed 
with  much  patience.  He  kept  wiping  his  brow  with  a  snow- 
white  handkerchief  with  one  hand,  while  another  was  aban- 
doned to  the  homage  of  his  vassals;  and  then  signing  the 
cross  with  his  outstretched  arm,  and  exclaiming,  "  Bless  ye— 
bless  ye,  my  children!"  he  hastened  into  the  house,  and  mur- 
mured not  a  little  at  the  darkness  and  steepness  of  the  rugged 
winding  stair,  whereby  he  at  length  scaled  the  spence  destined 
for  his  entertainment,  and,  overcome  with  fatigue,  threw  him- 
self, I  do  not  say  into  an  easy  chair,  but  into  the  easiest  the 
apartment  afforded. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  courtier  extraordinary,  who  by  diet 

Of  meats  and  drinks,  his  temperate  exercise, 

Choice  music,  frequent  bath,  his  horary  shifts 

Of  shirts  and  waistcoats,  means  to  immortalise 

Mortality  itself,  and  makes  the  essence 

Of  his  whole  happiness  the  trim  of  court. 

Magnetic  Lady. 

When  the  lord  abbot  had  suddenly  and  superciliously  van- 
ished from  the  eyes  of  his  expectant  vassals,  the  sub-prior 
made  amends  for  the  negligence  of  his  principal  by  the  kind 
and  affectionate  greeting  wThich  he  gave  to  all  the  members  of 
the  family,  but  especially  to  Dame  Elspeth,  her  foster-daugh- 
ter, and  her  son  Edward.  "Where,"  he  even  condescended  to 
inquire,  "  is  that  naughty  Mmrod,  Halbert?  He  hath  not  yet, 
I  trust,  turned,  like  his  great  prototype,  his  hunting-spear 
against  man?" 

"  Oh  no,  an  it  please  your  reverence, "  said  Dame  Glendin- 
ning ;  "  Halbert  is  up  the  glen  to  get  some  venison,  or  surely 
he  would  not  have  been  absent  when  such  a  day  of  honour 
dawned  upon  me  and  mine." 

"  Oh,  to  get  savoury  meat,  such  as  our  soul  loveth, "  muttered 
the  sub-prior ;  "  it  has  been  at  times  an  acceptable  gift.  I 
bid  you  good  morrow,  my  good  dame,  as  I  must  attend  upon 
his  lordship  the  father  abbot." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


209 


"And  oh,  reverend  sir,"  said  the  good  widow,  detaining 
him,  "  if  it  might  be  yonr  pleasure  to  take  part  with  us  if 
there  is  anything  wrong ;  and  if  there  is  anything  wanted,  to 
say  that  it  is  just  coming,  or  to  make  some  excuses  your  learn- 
ing best  knows  how.  Every  bit  of  vassail  and  silver  work 
have  we  been  spoiled  of  since  Pinkie  Cleuch,  when  I  lost  poor 
Simon  Glendinning,  that  was  the  warst  of  a\" 

"Never  mind — never  fear,"  said  the  sub-prior,  gently  ex- 
tricating his  garment  from  the  anxious  grasp  of  Dame  Els- 
peth,  "the  refectioner  has  with  him  the  abbot's  plate  and 
drinking-cups ;  and  I  pray  you  to  believe  that  whatever  is 
short  in  your  entertainment  will  be  deemed  amply  made  up 
in  your  good-will." 

So  saying,  he  escaped  from  her  and  went  into  the  spence, 
where  such  preparations  as  haste  permitted  were  making  for 
the  noon  collation  of  the  abbot  and  the  English  knight.  Here 
he  found  the  lord  abbot,  for  whom  a  cushion,  composed  of  all 
the  plaids  in  the  house,  had  been  unable  to  render  Simon's 
huge  elbow-chair  a  soft  or  comfortable  place  of  rest. 

"  Benedicite  /"  said  Abbot  Boniface,  "now  marry  fie  upon 
these  hard  benches  with  all  my  heart;  they  are  as  uneasy  as 
the  scabella  of  our  novices.  St.  Jude  be  with  us,  sir  knight, 
how  have  you  contrived  to  pass  over  the  night  in  this  dun- 
geon? An  your  bed  was  no  softer  than  your  seat,  you  might 
as  well  have  slept  on  the  stone  couch  of  St.  Pacomius.  After 
trotting  a  full  ten  miles,  a  man  needs  a  softer  seat  than  has 
fallen  to  my  hard  lot." 

With  sympathising  faces,  the  sacristan  and  the  refectioner 
ran  to  raise  the  lord  abbot,  and  to  adjust  his  seat  to  his  mind, 
which  was  at  length  accomplished  in  some  sort,  although  he 
continued  alternately  to  bewail  his  fatigue  and  to  exult  in 
the  conscious  sense  of  having  discharged  an  arduous  duty. 
"You  errant  cavaliers,"  said  he,  addressing  the  knight,  "may 
now  perceive  that  others  have  their  travail  and  their  toils  to 
undergo  as  well  as  your  honoured  faculty.  And  this  I  will 
say  for  myself  and  the  soldiers  of  St.  Mary,  among  whom  I 
may  be  termed  captain,  that  it  is  not  our  wont  to  flinch  from 
the  heat  of  the  service,  or  to  withdraw  from  the  good  fight. 
14 


210 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


No,  by  St.  Mary !  — no  sooner  did  I  learn  that  you  were  here, 
and  dared  not  for  certain  reasons  come  to  the  monastery, 
where  with  as  good  will,  and  with  more  convenience,  we 
might  have  given  you  a  better  reception,  than,  striking  the 
table  with  my  hammer,  I  called  a  brother.  'Timothy, '  said 
I,  'let  them  saddle  Benedict — let  them  saddle  my  black  pal- 
frey, and  bid  the  sub-prior  and  some  half -score  of  attendants 
be  in  readiness  to-morrow  after  matins;  we  would  ride  to 
Glendearg.'  Brother  Timothy  stared,  thinking,  I  imagine, 
that  his  ears  had  scarce  done  him  justice;  but  I  repeated  my 
commands,  and  said:  'Let  the  kitchener  and  refectioner  go 
before  to  aid  the  poor  vassals  to  whom  the  place  belongs  in 
making  a  suitable  collation. '  So  that  you  will  consider,  good 
Sir  Piercie,  our  mutual  incommodities,  and  forgive  whatever 
you  may  find  amiss. " 

"  By  my  faith, "  said  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  "  there  is  nothing 
to  forgive.  If  you  spiritual  warriors  have  to  submit  to  the 
grievous  incommodities  which  your  lordship  narrates,  it  would 
ill  become  me,  a  sinful  and  secular  man,  to  complain  of  a  bed 
as  hard  as  a  board,  of  broth  which  relished  as  if  made  of 
burnt  wool,  of  flesh  which,  in  its  sable  and  singed  shape, 
seemed  to  put  me  on  a  level  with  Richard  Coeur-de-Lion, 
when  he  ate  up  the  head  of  a  Moor  carbonadoed,  and  of  oth- 
er viands  savouring  rather  of  the  rusticity  of  this  northern 
region. " 

"  By  the  good  saints,  sir, "  said  the  abbot,  somewhat  touched 
in  point  of  his  character  for  hospitality,  of  which  he  was  in 
truth  a  most  faithful  and  zealous  professor,  "  it  grieves  me  to 
the  heart  that  you  have  found  our  vassals  no  better  provided 
for  your  reception.  Yet  I  crave  leave  to  observe  that,  if  Sir 
Piercie  Shafton' s  affairs  had  permitted  him  to  honour  with 
his  company  our  poor  house  of  St.  Mary's,  he  might  have  had 
less  to  complain  of  in  respect  of  easements." 

"  To  give  your  lordship  the  reasons, "  said  Sir  Piercie  Shaf- 
ton, "why  I  could  not  at  this  present  time  approach  your 
dwelling,  or  avail  myself  of  its  well-known  and  undoubted 
hospitality,  craves  either  some  delay  or  (looking  around  him) 
a  limited  audience." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


211 


The  lord  abbot  immediately  issued  his  mandate  to  the  re- 
f  ectioner :  "  Hie  thee  to  the  kitchen,  Brother  Hilarius,  and 
there  make  inquiry  of  our  brother  the  kitchener  within  what 
time  he  opines  that  our  collation  may  be  prepared,  since  sin 
and  sorrow  it  were,  considering  the  hardships  of  this  noble  and 
gallant  knight,  no  whit  mentioning  or  weighing  those  we  our- 
selves have  endured,  if  we  were  now  either  to  advance  or  re- 
tard the  hour  of  refection  beyond  the  time  when  the  viands  are 
fit  to  be  set  before  us." 

Brother  Hilarius  parted  with  an  eager  alertness  to  execute 
the  will  of  his  superior,  and  returned  with  the  assurance  that 
punctually  at  one  after  noon  would  the  collation  be  ready. 

" Before  that  time,"  said  the  accurate  ref ectioner,  "the 
wafers,  flams,  and  pastry-meat  will  scarce  have  had  the  just 
degree  of  fire  which  learned  pottingers  prescribe  as  fittest  for 
the  body;  and  if  it  should  be  past  one  o'clock,  were  it  but 
ten  minutes,  our  brother  the  kitchener  opines  that  the  haunch 
of  venison  would  surfer,  in  spite  of  the  skill  of  the  little  turn- 
broche  whom  he  has  recommended  to  your  holiness  by  his 
praises." 

"How!"  said  the  abbot,  "a  haunch  of  venison!  From 
whence  comes  that  dainty?  I  remember  not  thou  didst  inti- 
mate its  presence  in  thy  hamper  of  vivers." 

"  So  please  your  holiness  and  lordship, "  said  the  ref  ectioner, 
"  he  is  a  son  of  the  woman  of  the  house  who  hath  shot  it  and 
sent  it  in — killed  but  now ;  yet,  as  the  animal  heat  hath  not 
left  the  body,  the  kitchener  undertakes  it  shall  eat  as  tender 
as  a  young  chicken;  and  this  youth  hath  a  special  gift  in 
shooting  deer,  and  never  misses  the  heart  or  the  brain;  so 
that  the  blood  is  not  driven  through  the  flesh,  as  happens 
too  often  with  us.  It  is  a  hart  of  grease;  your  holiness  has 
seldom  seen  such  a  haunch. " 

"  Silence,  Brother  Hilarius, "  said  the  abbot,  wiping  his 
mouth ;  "  it  is  not  beseeming  our  order  to  talk  of  food  so  ear- 
nestly, especially  as  we  must  oft  have  our  animal  powers 
exhausted  by  fasting,  and  be  accessible,  as  being  ever  mere 
mortals,  to  those  signs  of  longing  (he  again  wiped  his  mouth) 
which  arise  on  the  mention  of  victuals  to  an  hungry  man. 


212 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Minute  down,  however,  the  name  of  that  youth;  it  is  fitting 
merit  should  be  rewarded,  and  he  shall  hereafter  be  a  frater 
ad  succurrendum  in  the  kitchen  an  d  buttery. " 

"  Alas !  reverend  father  and  my  good  lord, 99  replied  the  re- 
f ectioner,  "  I  did  inquire  after  the  youth,  and  I  learn  he  is 
one  who  prefers  the  casque  to  the  cowl,  and  the  sword  of  the 
flesh  to  the  weapons  of  the  spirit." 

"  And  if  it  be  so, "  said  the  abbot,  "  see  that  thou  retain  him 
as  a  deputy -keeper  and  man-at-arms,  and  not  as  a  lay  brother 
of  the  monastery;  for  old  Tallboy,  our  forester,  waxes  dim- 
eyed,  and  hath  twice  spoiled  a  noble  buck  by  hitting  him  un- 
warily on  the  haunch.  Ah !  'tis  a  foul  fault,  the  abusing  by 
evil-killing,  evil-dressing,  evil  appetite,  or  otherwise,  the  good 
creatures  indulged  to  us  for  our  use.  Wherefore,  secure  us  the 
service  of  this  youth,  Brother  Hilarius,  in  the  way  that  may 
best  suit  him.  And  now,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  since  the  fates 
have  assigned  us  a  space  of  wellnigh  an  hour  ere  we  dare  hope 
to  enjoy  more  than  the  vapour  or  savour  of  our  repast,  may  I 
pray  you,  of  your  courtesy,  to  tell  me  the  cause  of  this  visit; 
and,  above  all,  to  inform  us  why  you  will  not  approach  our 
more  pleasant  and  better  furnished  hospitium  ?" 

"Keverend  father  and  my  very  good  lord,"  said  Sir  Piercie 
Shafton,  "it  is  well  known  to  your  wisdom  that  there  are 
stone  walls  which  have  ears,  and  that  secrecy  is  to  be  looked 
to  in  matters  which  concern  a  man's  head." 

The  abbot  signed  to  his  attendants,  excepting  the  sub-prior, 
to  leave  the  room,  and  then  said :  "  Your  valour,  Sir  Piercie, 
may  freely  unburden  yourself  before  our  faithful  friend  and 
counsellor  Father  Eustace,  the  benefits  of  whose  advice  we 
may  too  soon  lose,  inasmuch  as  his  merits  will  speedily  rec- 
ommend him  to  an  higher  station,  in  which,  we  trust,  he 
may  find  the  blessing  of  a  friend  and  adviser  as  valuable  as 
himself,  since  I  may  say  of  him,  as  our  claustral  rhyme  goeth, 1 

Dixit  Abbas  ad  prioris, 
Tu  es  homo  boni  moris, 
Quia  semper  sanioris 
Mihi  das  concilia. 


1  The  rest  of  this  doggerel  rhyme  may  be  found  in  Fosbrooke's  learned 
work  on  British  Monarchism. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


213 


Indeed, "  he  added,  "  the  office  of  sub-prior  is  altogether  be- 
neath our  dear  brother;  nor  can  we  elevate  him  unto  that  of 
prior,  which,  for  certain  reasons,  is  at  present  kept  vacant 
amongst  us.  Howbeit,  Father  Eustace  is  fully  possessed  of 
my  confidence,  and  worthy  of  yours,  and  well  may  it  be  said 
of  him,  lntravit  in  secretis  nostris." 

Sir  Piercie  Shafton  bowed  to  the  reverend  brethren,  and, 
heaving  a  sigh,  as  if  he  would  have  burst  his  steel  cuirass,  he 
thus  commenced  his  speech : 

"  Certes,  reverend  sirs,  I  may  well  heave  such  a  suspiration, 
who  have,  as  it  were,  exchanged  heaven  for  purgatory,  leaving 
the  lightsome  sphere  of  the  royal  court  of  England  for  a  remote 
nook  in  this  inaccessible  desert ;  quitting  the  tiltyard,  where 
I  was  ever  ready  among  my  compeers  to  splinter  a  lance, 
either  for  the  love  of  honour  or  for  the  honour  of  love,  in 
order  to  couch  my  knightly  spear  against  base  and  pilfering 
besognios  and  marauders ;  exchanging  the  lighted  halls,  where- 
in I  used  nimbly  to  pace  the  swift  coranto,  or  to  move  with  a 
loftier  grace  in  the  stately  galliard,  for  this  rugged  and  decayed 
dungeon  of  rusty-coloured  stone ;  quitting  the  gay  theatre  for 
the  solitary  chimney -nook  of  a  Scottish  dog-house;  bartering 
the  sounds  of  the  soul-ravishing  lute  and  the  love-awakening 
viol-de-gamba  for  the  discordant  squeak  of  a  northern  bagpipe ; 
above  all,  exchanging  the  smiles  of  those  beauties  who  form 
a  galaxy  around  the  throne  of  England  for  the  cold  courtesy 
of  an  untaught  damsel  and  the  bewildered  stare  of  a  miller's 
maiden.  More  might  I  say,  of  the  exchange  of  the  conversa- 
tion of  gallant  knights  and  gay  courtiers  of  mine  own  order 
and  capacity,  whose  conceits  are  bright  and  vivid  as  the  light- 
ning, for  that  of  monks  and  churchmen — but  it  were  discour- 
teous to  urge  that  topic." 

The  abbot  listened  to  this  list  of  complaints  with  great  round 
eyes,  which  evinced  no  exact  intelligence  of  the  orator's  mean- 
ing; and  when  the  knight  paused  to  take  breath,  he  looked 
with  a  doubtful  and  inquiring  eye  at  the  sub-prior,  not  well 
knowing  in  what  tone  he  should  reply  to  an  exordium  so  extra- 
ordinary. The  sub-prior  accordingly  stepped  in  to  the  relief 
of  his  principal. 


214 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  We  deeply  sympathise  with  you,  sir  knight,  in  the  several 
mortifications  and  hardships  to  which  fate  has  subjected  you, 
particularly  in  that  which  has  thrown  you  into  the  society  of 
those  who,  as  they  were  conscious  they  deserved  not  such  an 
honour,  so  neither  did  they  at  all  desire  it.  But  all  this  goes 
little  way  to  expound  the  cause  of  this  train  of  disasters,  or, 
in  plainer  words,  the  reason  which  has  compelled  you  into  a 
situation  having  so  few  charms  for  you." 

" Gentle  and  reverend  sir,"  replied  the  knight,  "forgive  an 
unhappy  person  who,  in  giving  a  history  of  his  miseries,  dilat- 
eth  upon  them  extremely,  even  as  he  who,  having  fallen  from 
a  precipice,  looketh  upward  to  measure  the  height  from  which 
he  hath  been  precipitated. " 

"Yea,  but,"  said  Father  Eustace,  "methinks  it  were  wiser 
in  him  to  tell  those  who  come  to  lift  him  up  which  of  his 
bones  have  been  broken." 

"You,  reverend  sir,"  said  the  knight,  "have,  in  the  en- 
counter of  our  wits,  made  a  fair  attaint;  whereas  I  may  be  in 
some  sort  said  to  have  broken  my  staff  across. 1  Pardon  me, 
grave  sir,  that  I  speak  the  language  of  the  tiltyard,  which  -is 
doubtless  strange  to  your  reverend  ears.  Ah!  brave  resort  of 
the  noble,  the  fair,  and  the  gay!  Ah!  throne  of  love,  and 
citadel  of  honour!  Ah!  celestial  beauties,  by  whose  bright 
eyes  it  is  graced!  Never  more  shall  Piercie  Shafton  advance, 
as  the  centre  of  your  radiant  glances,  couch  his  lance,  and  spur 
his  horse  at  the  sound  of  the  spirit-stirring  trumpets,  nobly 
called  the  voice  of  war ;  never  more  shall  he  baffle  his  adver- 
sary's encounter  boldly,  break  his  spear  dexterously,  and,  am- 
bling around  the  lovely  circle,  receive  the  rewards  with  which 
beauty  honours  chivalry!" 

Here  he  paused,  wrung  his  hands,  looked  upwards,  and 
seemed  lost  in  contemplation  of  his  own  fallen  fortunes. 

"  Mad — very  mad, "  whispered  the  abbot  to  the  sub-prior ; 
"  I  would  we  were  fairly  rid  of  him ;  for,  of  a  truth,  I  expect 
he  will  proceed  from  raving  to  mischief.  Were  it  not  better 
to  call  up  the  rest  of  the  brethren?" 

But  the  sub-prior  knew  better  than  his  superior  how  to  dis- 
i  See  Attaint.   Note  13. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


215 


tinguish  the  jargon  of  affectation  from  the  ravings  of  insanity, 
and  although  the  extremity  of  the  knight's  passion  seemed 
altogether  fantastic,  yet  he  was  not  ignorant  to  what  extrava- 
gancies the  fashion  of  the  day  can  conduct  its  votaries. 

Allowing,  therefore,  two  minutes '  space  to  permit  the 
knight's  enthusiastic  feelings  to  exhaust  themselves,  he  again 
gravely  reminded  him  that  the  lord  abbot  had  taken  a  journey, 
unwonted  to  his  age  and  habits,  solely  to  learn  in  what  he  could 
serve  Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton ;  that  it  was  altogether  impossible 
he  could  do  so  without  his  receiving  distinct  information  of 
the  situation  in  which  he  had  now  sought  refuge  in  Scotland. 
"The  day  wore  on,"  he  observed,  looking  at  the  window; 
"  and  if  the  abbot  should  be  obliged  to  return  to  the  monas- 
tery without  obtaining  the  necessary  intelligence,  the  regret 
might  be  mutual,  but  the  inconvenience  was  like  to  be  all  on 
Sir  Piercie' s  own  side." 

The  hint  was  not  thrown  away. 

"0  goddess  of  courtesy!"  said  the  knight,  "can  I  have  so 
far  forgotten  thy  behests  as  to  make  this  good  prelate's  ease 
and  time  a  sacrifice  to  my  vain  complaints!  Know,  then, 
most  worthy,  and  not  less  worshipful,  that  I,  your  poor  visitor 
and  guest,  am  by  birth  nearly  bound  to  the  Piercie  of  North- 
umberland whose  fame  is  so  widely  blown  through  all  parts 
of  the  world  where  English  worth  hath  been  known.  Now, 
this  present  Earl  of  Northumberland,  of  whom  I  propose  to 
give  you  the  brief  history  " 

"It  is  altogether  unnecessary,"  said  the  abbot;  "we  know 
him  to  be  a  good  and  true  nobleman,  and  a  sworn  upholder  of 
our  Catholic  faith,  in  the  spite  of  the  heretical  woman  who 
now  sits  upon  the  throne  of  England.  And  it  is  specially  as 
his  kinsman,  and  as  knowing  that  ye  partake  with  him  in 
such  devout  and  faithful  belief  and  adherence  to  our  holy 
Mother  Church,  that  we  say  to  you,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  that 
ye  be  heartily  welcome  to  us,  and  that,  an  we  wist  how,  we 
would  labour  to  do  you  good  service  in  your  extremity." 

"  For  such  kind  offer  I  rest  your  most  humble  debtor, "  said 
Sir  Piercie ;  "  nor  need  I  at  this  moment  say  more  than  that 
my  right  honourable  cousin  of  Northumberland,  having  de- 


216 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


vised  with  me  and  some  others,  the  choice  and  picked  spirits 
of  the  age,  how  and  by  what  means  the  worship  of  God,  ac- 
cording to  the  Catholic  Church,  might  be  again  introduced 
into  this  distracted  kingdom  of  England — even  as  one  devis- 
eth,  by  the  assistance  of  his  friend,  to  catch  and  to  bridle  a 
runaway  steed — it  pleased  him  so  deeply  to  entrust  me  in 
those  communications  that  my  personal  safety  becomes,  as  it 
were,  entwined  or  complicated  therewith.  Natheless,  as  we 
have  had  sudden  reason  to  believe,  this  Princess  Elizabeth, 
who  maintaineth  around  her  a  sort  of  counsellors  skilful  in 
tracking  whatever  schemes  may  be  pursued  for  bringing  her 
title  into  challenge,  or  for  erecting  again  the  discipline  of 
the  Catholic  Church,  has  obtained  certain  knowledge  of  the 
trains  which  we  had  laid  before  we  could  give  fire  unto  them. 
Wherefore,  my  right  honourable  cousin  of  Northumberland, 
thinking  it  best  belike  that  one  man  should  take  both  blame 
and  shame  for  the  whole,  did  lay  the  burden  of  all  this  traffick- 
ing upon  my  back ;  which  load  I  am  the  rather  content  to  bear, 
in  that  he  hath  always  shown  himself  my  kind  and  honourable 
kinsman,  as  well  as  that  my  estate,  I  wot  not  how,  hath  of 
late  been  somewhat  insufficient  to  maintain  the  expense  of 
those  braveries  wherewith  it  is  incumbent  on  us,  who  are  chosen 
and  selected  spirits,  to  distinguish  ourselves  from  the  vulgar. 99 

"  So  that  possibly, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  your  private  affairs 
rendered  a  foreign  journey  less  incommodious  to  you  than  it 
might  have  been  to  the  noble  earl,  your  right  worthy  cousin?" 

"  You  are  right,  reverend  sir, "  answered  the  courtier ;  "  rem 
acu — you  have  touched  the  point  with  a  needle.  My  cost  and 
expenses  had  been  indeed  somewhat  lavish  at  the  late  triumphs 
and  tourneys,  and  the  flat-capp'd  citizens  had  shown  themselves 
unwilling  to  furnish  my  pocket  for  new  gallantries  for  the 
honour  of  the  nation,  as  well  as  for  mine  own  peculiar  glory ; 
and,  to  speak  truth,  it  was  in  some  part  the  hope  of  seeing 
these  matters  amended  that  led  me  to  desire  a  new  world  in 
England." 

"  So  that  the  miscarriage  of  your  public  enterprise,  with  the 
derangement  of  your  own  private  affairs, 99  said  the  sub-prior, 
"have  induced  you  to  seek  Scotland  as  a  place  of  refuge?" 


THE  MONASTERY. 


217 


"Rem  acu,  once  again,"  said  Sir  Piercie;  "and  not  without 
good  cause,  since  my  neck,  if  I  remained,  might  have  been 
brought  within  the  circumstances  of  an  halter ;  and  so  speedy 
was  my  journey  northward,  that  I  had  but  time  to  exchange 
my  peach-coloured  doublet  of  Genoa  velvet,  thickly  laid  over 
with  goldsmith's  work,  for  this  cuirass,  which  was  made  by 
Bonamico  of  Milan,  and  travelled  northward  with  all  speed, 
judging  that  I  might  do  well  to  visit  my  right  honourable 
cousin  of  Northumberland  at  one  of  his  numerous  castles. 
But  as  I  posted  towards  Alnwick,  even  with  the  speed  of  a 
star  which,  darting  from  its  native  sphere,  shoots  wildly  down- 
wards, I  was  met  at  Northallerton  by  one  Henry  Vaughan, 
a  servant  of  my  right  honourable  kinsman,  who  showed  me 
that  as  then  I  might  not  with  safety  come  to  his  presence, 
seeing  that,  in  obedience  to  orders  from  his  court,  he  was 
obliged  to  issue  out  letters  for  my  incarceration." 

"  This, 99  said  the  abbot,  "  seems  but  hard  measure  on  the 
part  of  your  honourable  kinsman." 

"It  might  be  so  judged,  my  lord,"  replied  Sir  Piercie; 
"nevertheless,  I  will  stand  to  the  death  for  the  honour  of 
my  right  honourable  cousin  of  Northumberland.  Also,  Henry 
Vaughan  gave  me,  from  my  said  cousin,  a  good  horse,  and 
a  purse  of  gold,  with  two  Border  prickers,  as  they  are  called, 
for  my  guides,  who  conducted  me,  by  such  roads  and  bye-paths 
as  have  never  been  seen  since  the  days  of  Sir  Lancelot  and  Sir 
Tristrem,  into  this  kingdom  of  Scotland,  and  to  the  house  of 
a  certain  baron,  or  one  who  holds  the  style  of  such,  called 
Julian  Avenel,  with  whom  I  found  such  reception  as  the  place 
and  party  could  afford." 

"  And  that, 99  said  the  abbot,  "  must  have  been  right  wretch- 
ed; for,  to  judge  from  the  appetite  which  Julian  showeth 
when  abroad,  he  hath  not/ 1  judge,  over-abundant  provision 
at  home." 

"You  are  right,  sir — voir  reverence  is  in  the  right,"  con- 
tinued Sir  Piercie:  "we  had  but  lenten  fare,  and,  what  was 
worse,  a  score  to  clear  at  the  departure ;  for  though  this  Jul- 
ian Avenel  called  us  to  t  o  reckoning,  yet  he  did  so  extrava- 
gantly admire  the  fashion  of  my  poniard — the  poignet  being 


218 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  silver  exquisitely  hatched,  and  indeed  the  weapon  being 
altogether  a  piece  of  exceeding  rare  device  and  beauty — that 
in  faith  I  could  not  for  very  shame's  sake  but  pray  his  accept- 
ance of  it;  words  which  he  gave  me  not  the  trouble  of  repeat- 
ing twice,  before  he  had  stuck  it  into  his  greasy  buff-belt, 
where,  credit  me,  reverend  sir,  it  showed  more  like  a  butcher's 
knife  than  a  gentleman's  dagger." 

"  So  goodly  a  gift  might  at  least  have  purchased  you  a  few 
days'  hospitality,"  said  Father  Eustace. 

"  Reverend  sir,"  said  Sir  Piercie,  "  had  I  abidden  with  him, 
I  should  have  been  complimented  out  of  every  remnant  of  my 
wardrobe — acutally  flayed,  by  the  hospitable  gods  I  swear  it! 
Sir,  he  secured  my  spare  doublet,  and  had  a  pluck  at  my  gal- 
ligaskins; I  was  enforced  to  beat  a  retreat  before  I  was  al- 
together unrigged.  That  Border  knave,  his  serving-man,  had 
a  pluck  at  me  too,  and  usurped  a  scarlet  cassock  and  steel 
cuirass  belonging  to  the  page  of  my  body,  whom  I  was  fain 
to  leave  behind  me.  In  good  time  I  received  a  letter  from 
my  right  honourable  cousin,  showing  me  that  he  had  written 
to  you  in  my  behalf,  and  sent  to  your  charge  two  mails  filled 
with  wearing  apparel — namely,  my  rich  crimson  silk  doublet, 
slashed  out  and  lined  with  cloth  of  gold,  and  which  I  wore 
at  the  last  revels,  with  baldric  and  trimmings  to  correspond; 
also  two  pair  black  silk  slops,  with  hanging  garters  of  car- 
nation silk;  also  the  flesh-coloured  silken  doublet,  with  the 
trimmings  of  fur,  in  which  I  danced  the  salvage  man  at  the 
Gray's  Inn  mummery;  also  " 

"  Sir  knight, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  I  pray  you  to  spare  the 
further  inventory  of  your  wardrobe.  The  monks  of  St.  Mary's 
are  no  free  booting  barons,  and  whatever  part  of  your  vestments 
arrived  at  our  house  have  been  this  day  faithfully  brought 
hither,  with  the  mails  which  contained  them.  I  may  presume 
from  what  has  been  said,  as  we  1  ave  indeed  been  given  to  un- 
derstand by  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  that  your  desire  is 
to  remain  for  the  present  as  unknown  and  as  unnoticed  as 
may  be  consistent  with  your  high  vorth  and  distinction?" 

"Alas,  reverend  father!"  replied,  the  courtier,  "a  blade 
when  it  is  in  the  scabbard  cannot  give  lustre,  a  diamond 


THE  MONASTERY. 


219 


when  it  is  in  the  casket  cannot  give  light,  and  worth,  when 
it  is  compelled  by  circumstances  to  obscure  itself,  cannot 
draw  observation :  my  retreat  can  only  attract  the  admira- 
tion of  those  few  to  whom  circumstances  permit  its  display- 
ing itself." 

"  I  conceive  now,  my  venerable  father  and  lord, 99  said  the 
sub-prior,  "that  your  wisdom  will  assign  such  a  course  of 
conduct  to  this  noble  knight  as  may  be  alike  consistent  with 
his  safety  and  with  the  weal  of  the  community.  For  you 
wot  well  that  perilous  strides  have  been  made  in  these  auda- 
cious days  to  the  destruction  of  all  ecclesiastical  foundations, 
and  that  our  holy  community  has  been  repeatedly  menaced. 
Hitherto  they  have  found  no  flaw  in  our  raiment ;  but  a  party, 
friendly  as  well  to  the  Queen  of  England  as  to  the  heretical 
doctrines  of  the  schismatical  church,  or  even  to  worse  and 
wilder  forms  of  heresy,  prevails  now  at  the  court  of  our  sover- 
eign, who  dare  not  yield  to  her  suffering  clergy  the  protection 
she  would  gladly  extend  to  them." 

"  My  lord  and  reverend  sir, "  said  the  knight,  "  I  will  gladly 
relieve  ye  of  my  presence,  while  ye  canvass  this  matter  at  your 
freedom ;  and  to  speak  truly,  I  am  desirous  to  see  in  what  case 
the  chamberlain  of  my  noble  kinsman  hath  found  my  wardrobe, 
and  how  he  hath  packed  the  same,  and  whether  it  has  suffered 
from  the  journey.  There  are  four  suits  of  as  pure  and  elegant 
device  as  ever  the  fancy  of  a  fair  lady  doated  upon,  every  one 
having  a  treble  and  appropriate  change  of  ribbons,  trimmings, 
and  fringes,  which,  in  case  of  need,  may,  as  it  were,  renew  each 
of  them,  and  multiply  the  four  into  twelve.  There  is  also  my 
sad-coloured  riding-suit,  and  three  cut-work  shirts  with  falling 
bands ;  I  pray  you,  pardon  me,  I  must  needs  see  how  matters 
stand  with  them  without  farther  dallying." 

Thus  speaking,  he  left  the  room ;  and  the  sub-prior,  looking 
after  him  significantly,  added :  "  Where  the  treasure  is  will  the 
heart  be  also." 

"  St.  Mary  preserve  our  wits!"  said  the  abbot,  stunned  with 
the  knight's  abundance  of  words;  "were  man's  brains  ever  so 
stuffed  with  silk  and  broadcloth,  cut-work,  and  I  wot  not  what 
besides !    And  what  could  move  the  Earl  of  Northumberland 


220 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


to  assume  for  his  bosom  counsellor,  in  matters  of  depth  and 
danger,  such  a  feather-brained  coxcomb  as  this!" 

"Had  he  been  other  than  what  he  is,  venerable  father," 
said  the  sub-prior,  "  he  had  been  less  fitted  for  the  part  of 
scapegoat,  to  which  his  right  honourable  cousin  had  probably 
destined  him  from  the  commencement,  in  case  of  their  plot 
failing.  I  know  something  of  this  Piercie  Shafton.  The  le- 
gitimacy of  his  mother's  descent  from  the  Piercie  family, 
the  point  on  which  he  is  most  jealous,  hath  been  called  in 
question.  If  hare-brained  courage  and  an  outrageous  spirit  of 
gallantry  can  make  good  his  pretensions  to  the  high  lineage  he 
claims,  these  qualities  have  never  been  denied  him.  For  the 
rest,  he  is  one  of  the  ruffling  gallants  of  the  time,  like  Bow- 
land  Yorke,  Stukely, 1  and  others,  who  wear  out  their  fortunes 
and  endanger  their  lives  in  idle  braveries,  in  order  that  they 
may  be  esteemed  the  only  choice  gallants  of  the  time;  and 
afterwards  endeavour  to  repair  their  estate  by  engaging  in  the 
desperate  plots  and  conspiracies  which  wiser  heads  have  de- 
vised. To  use  one  of  his  own  conceited  similitudes,  such 
courageous  fools  resemble  hawks,  which  the  wiser  conspirator 
keeps  hooded  and  blindfolded  on  his  wrist  until  the  quarry  is 
on  the  wing,  and  who  are  then  flown  at  them." 

"  St.  Mary, "  said  the  abbot,  "  he  were  an  evil  guest  to  in- 
troduce into  our  quiet  household.  Our  young  monks  make 
bustle  enough,  and  more  than  is  beseeming  God's  servants, 
about  their  outward  attire  already :  this  knight  were  enough 
to  turn  their  brains,  from  the  vestiarius  down  to  the  very 
scullion  boy." 

"  A  worse  evil  might  follow,"  said  the  sub-prior.  "  In  these 
bad  days,  the  patrimony  of  the  church  is  bought  and  sold,  for- 
feited and  distrained,  as  if  it  were  the  unhallowed  soil  apper- 
taining to  a  secular  baron.  Think  what  penalty  awaits  us, 
were  we  convicted  of  harbouring  a  rebel  to  her  whom  they 
call  the  Queen  of  England !  There  would  neither  be  wanting 
Scottish  parasites  to  beg  the  lands  of  the  foundation,  nor  an 
army  from  England  to  burn  and  harry  the  halidome.  The 
men  of  Scotland  were  once  Scotsmen,  firm  and  united  in  their 
1  See  Rowland  Yorke  and  Stukely.   Note  14. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


221 


love  of  their  country,  and  throwing  every  other  consideration 
aside  when  the  frontier  was  menaced;  now  they  are — what 
shall  I  call  them? — the  one  part  French,  the  other  part  Eng- 
lish, considering  their  dear  native  country  merely  as  a  prize- 
fighting stage,  upon  which  foreigners  are  welcome  to  decide 
their  quarrels." 

"  Benedicite  /"  replied  the  abbot,  "  they  are  indeed  slippery 
and  evil  times." 

"And  therefore,"  said  Father  Eustace,  "we  must  walk 
warily :  we  must  not,  for  example,  bring  this  man — this  Sir 
Piercie  Shafton,  to  our  house  of  St.  Mary's." 

"  Bat  how  then  shall  we  dispose  of  him?"  replied  the  abbot. 
"Bethink  thee  that  he  is  a  sufferer  for  Holy  Church's  sake; 
that  his  patron,  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  hath  been  our 
friend,  and  that,  lying  so  near  us,  he  may  work  us  weal  or 
woe  according  as  we  deal  with  his  kinsman." 

"  And,  accordingly, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  for  these  reasons, 
as  well  as  for  discharge  of  the  great  duty  of  Christian  charity, 
I  would  protect  and  relieve  this  man.  Let  him  not  go  back  to 
Julian  Avenel;  that  unconscientious  baron  would  not  stick  to 
plunder  the  exiled  stranger.  Let  him  remain  here :  the  spot 
is  secluded,  and  if  the  accommodation  be  beneath  his  quality, 
discovery  will  become  the  less  likely.  We  will  make  such 
means  for  his  convenience  as  we  can  devise." 

"Will  he  be  persuaded,  thinkest  thou?"  said  the  abbot; 
"  I  will  leave  my  own  travelling-bed  for  his  repose,  and  send 
up  a  suitable  easy-chair." 

"  With  such  easements, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  he  must  not 
complain;  and  then,  if  threatened  by  any  sudden  danger,  he 
can  soon  come  down  to  the  sanctuary,  where  we  will  harbour 
him  in  secret  until  means  can  be  devised  of  dismissing  him  in 
safety." 

"  Were  we  not  better, "  said  the  abbot,  "  send  him  on  to  the 
court,  and  get  rid  of  him  at  once?" 

"  Ay,  but  at  the  expense  of  our  friends :  this  butterfly  may 
fold  his  wings,  and  lie  under  cover  in  the  cold  air  of  Gien- 
dearg ;  but  were  he  at  Holyrood,  he  would,  did  his  life  de- 
pend on  it,  expand  his  spangled  drapery  in  the  eyes  of  the 


222 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


queen  and  court.  Kather  than  fail  of  distinction,  he  would 
sue  for  love  to  our  gracious  sovereign :  the  eyes  of  all  men 
would  be  upon  him  in  the  course  of  three  short  days,  and  the 
international  peace  of  the  two  ends  of  the  island  endangered 
for  a  creature  who,  like  a  silly  moth,  cannot  abstain  from 
fluttering  round  a  light." 

"  Thou  hast  prevailed  with  me,  Father  Eustace, "  said  the 
abbot,  "  and  it  will  go  hard  but  I  improve  on  thy  plan.  I 
will  send  up  in  secret  not  only  household  stuff,  but  wine  and 
wassell-bread.  There  is  a  young  swankie  here  who  shoots 
venison  well.  I  will  give  him  directions  to  see  that  the 
knight  lacks  none." 

"  Whatever  accommodation  he  can  have,  which  infers  not 
a  risk  of  discovery, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  it  is  our  duty  to  af- 
ford him." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  abbot,  "  we  will  do  more,  and  will  instantly 
despatch  a  servant  express  to  the  keeper  of  our  revestiary  to 
send  us  such  things  as  he  may  want,  even  this  night.  See  it 
done,  good  father." 

"I  will,"  answered  Father  Eustace;  "but  I  hear  the  gull 
clamorous  for  some  one  to  truss  his  points.1  He  will  be  for- 
tunate if  he  lights  on  any  one  here  who  can  do  him  the  office 
of  groom  of  the  chamber." 

"  I  would  he  would  appear, "  said  the  abbot  "  for  here  comes 
the  refectioner  with  the  collation.  By  my  faith,  the  ride  hath 
given  me  a  sharp  appetite!" 

i  See  Note  15. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


223 


CHAPTEE  XVII. 

I'll  seek  for  other  aid.   Spirits,  they  say, 
Flit  round  invisible,  as  thick  as  motes 
Dance  in  the  sunbeam.    If  that  spell 
Or  necromancer's  sigil  can  compel  them, 
They  shall  hold  counsel  with  me. 

James  Duff. 

The  reader's  attention  must  be  recalled  to  Halbert  Glendin- 
ning,  who  had  left  the  Tower  of  Glendearg  immediately  after 
his  quarrel  with  its  new  guest,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton.  As  he 
walked  with  a  rapid  pace  up  the  glen,  Old  Martin  followed 
him,  beseeching  him  to  be  less  hasty. 

"  Halbert, "  said  the  old  man,  "  you  will  never  live  to  have 
white  hair,  if  you  take  fire  thus  at  every  spark  of  provo- 
cation." 

"  And  why  should  I  wish  it,  old  man, "  said  Halbert,  "  if  I 
am  to  be  the  butt  that  every  fool  may  aim  a  shaft  of  scorn 
against?  What  avails  it,  old  man,  that  you  yourself  move, 
sleep,  and  wake,  eat  thy  niggard  meal,  and  repose  on  thy  hard 
pallet?  Why  art  thou  so  well  pleased  that  the  morning  should 
call  thee  up  to  daily  toil,  and  the  evening  again  lay  thee  down 
a  wearied-out  wretch?  Were  it  not  better  sleep  and  wake  no 
more,  than  to  undergo  this  dull  exchange  of  labour  for  insensi- 
bility, and  of  insensibility  for  labour?" 

"  God  help  me, "  answered  Martin,  "  there  may  be  truth  in 
what  thou  say  est;  but  walk  slower,  for  my  old  limbs  cannot 
keep  pace  with  your  young  legs — walk  slower,  and  I  will  tell 
you  why  age,  though  unlovely,  is  yet  endurable." 

"Speak  on  then,"  said  Halbert,  slackening  his  pace;  "but 
remember  we  must  seek  venison  to  refresh  the  fatigues  of 
these  holy  men,  who  will  this  morning  have  achieved  a  jour- 
ney of  ten  miles ;  and  if  we  reach  not  the  Brocksburn  head, 
we  are  scarce  like  to  see  an  antler." 

"Then  know,  my  good  Halbert,"  said  Martin,  "whom  I 
love  as  my  own  son,  that  I  am  satisfied  to  live  till  death  calls 
me,  because  my  Maker  wills  it.    Ay,  and  although  I  spend 


224 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


what  men  call  a  hard  life,  pinched  with  cold  in  winter  and 
burnt  with  heat  in  summer,  though  I  feed  hard  and  sleep 
hard,  and  am  held  mean  and  despised,  yet  I  bethink  me,  that 
were  I  of  no  use  on  the  face  of  this  fair  creation,  God  would 
withdraw  me  from  it. 99 

"Thou  poor  old  man,"  said  Halbert,  "and  can  such  a  vain 
conceit  as  this  of  thy  fancied  use  reconcile  thee  to  a  world 
where  thou  play  est  so  poor  a  part?" 

"  My  part  was  nearly  as  poor, 99  said  Martin,  "  my  person 
nearly  as  much  despised,  the  day  that  I  saved  my  mistress 
and  her  child  from  perishing  in  the  wilderness." 

"Eight,  Martin,"  answered  Halbert;  "there,  indeed,  thou 
didst  what  might  be  a  sufficient  apology  for  a  whole  life  of 
insignificance. 99 

"  And  do  you  account  it  for  nothing,  Halbert,  that  I  should 
have  the  power  of  giving  you  a  lesson  of  patience  and  submis- 
sion to  the  destinies  of  Providence?  Methinks  there  is  use 
for  the  grey  hairs  on  the  old  scalp,  were  it  but  to  instruct  the 
green  head  by  precept  and  by  example." 

Halbert  held  down  his  face  and  remained  silent  for  a  minute 
or  two,  and  then  resumed  his  discourse :  "  Martin,  seest  thou 
aught  changed  in  me  of  late?" 

"  Surely,"  said  Martin.  "  I  have  always  known  you  hasty, 
wild,  and  inconsiderate,  rude,  and  prompt  to  speak  at  the 
volley  and  without  reflection ;  but  now,  methinks,  your  bear- 
ing, without  losing  its  natural  fire,  has  something  in  it  of 
force  and  dignity  which  it  had  not  before.  It  seems  as  if  you 
had  fallen  asleep  a  carle  and  awakened  a  gentleman." 

"  Thou  canst  judge,  then,  of  noble  bearing?"  said  Halbert. 

"  Surely,"  answered  Martin,  "in  some  sort  I  can;  for  I  have 
travelled  through  court,  and  camp,  and  city  with  my  master, 
Walter  Avenel,  although  he  could  do  nothing  for  me  in  the 
long  run  but  give  me  room  for  two  score  of  sheep  on  the  hill; 
and  surely  even  now,  while  1  speak  with  you,  I  feel  sensible 
that  my  language  is  more  refined  than  it  is  my  wont  to  use, 
and  that,  though  I  know  not  the  reason,  the  rude  northern 
dialect,  so  familiar  to  my  tongue,  has  given  place  to  a  more 
town-bred  speech." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


225 


"  And  this  change  in  thyself  and  me  thou  canst  by  no  means 
account  for?"  said  young  Glendinning. 

"  Change!"  replied  Martin,  "  b}^  Our  Lady,  it  is  not  so  much 
a  change  which  I  feel  as  a  recalling  and  renewing  sentiments 
and  expressions  which  I  had  some  thirty  years  since,  ere  Tibb 
arid  I  set  up  our  humble  household.  It  is  singular  that  your 
society  should  have  this  sort  of  influence  over  me,  Halbert, 
and  that  I  should  never  have  experienced  it  ere  now. " 

"Thinkest  thou,"  said  Halbert,  "thou  seest  in  me  aught 
that  can  raise  me  from  this  base,  low,  despised  state  into  one 
where  I  may  rank  with  those  proud  men  who  now  despise  my 
clownish  poverty?" 

Martin  paused  an  instant,  and  then  answered :  "  Doubtless 
you  may,  Halbert ;  as  broken  a  ship  has  come  to  land.  Heard 
ye  never  of  Hughie  Dun,  who  left  this  halidome  some  thirty- 
live  years  gone  by?  A  deliverly  fellow  was  Hughie — could 
read  and  write  like  a  priest,  and  could  wield  brand  and  buck- 
ler with  the  best  of  the  riders.  I  mind  him ;  the  like  of  him 
was  never  seen  in  the  halidome  of  St.  Mary's,  and  so  was  seen 
of  the  preferment  that  God  sent  him." 

"And  what  was  that?"  said  Halbert,  his  eyes  sparkling 
with  eagerness. 

"Nothing  less,"  answered  Martin,  "than  body-servant  to 
the  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrews!" 

Halbert' s  countenance  fell.  "A  servant — and  to  a  priest! 
Was  this  all  that  knowledge  and  activity  could  raise  him 
to?" 

Martin,  in  his  turn,  looked  with  wistful  surprise  in  the  face 
of  his  young  friend.  "  And  to  what  could  fortune  lead  him 
farther?"  answered  he.  "  The  son  of  a  kirk-feuar  is  not  the 
stuff  that  lords  and  knights  are  made  of.  Courage  and  school- 
craft  cannot  change  churl's  blood  into  gentle  blood,  I  trow.  I 
have  heard,  forbye,  that  Hughie  Dun  left  a  good  five  hundred 
punds  of  Scots  money  to  his  only  daughter,  and  that  she 
married  the  bailie  of  Pittenweem." 

At  this  moment,  and  while  Halbert  was  embarrassed  with 
devising  a  suitable  answer,  a  deer  bounded  across  their  path. 
In  an  instant  the  cross-bow  was  at  the  youth's  shoulder,  the 
15 


226 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


bolt  whistled,  and  the  deer,  after  giving  one  bound  upright, 
dropt  dead  on  the  green  sward. 

"There  lies  the  venison  our  dame  wanted,"  said  Martin; 
"  who  would  have  thought  of  an  out-lying  stag  being  so  low 
down  the  glen  at  this  season?  And  it  is  a  hart  of  grease  too, 
in  full  season,  and  three  inches  of  fat  on  the  brisket.  Now 
this  is  all  your  luck,  Halbert,  that  follows  you,  go  where  you 
like.  Were  you  to  put  in  for  it,  I  would  warrant  you  were 
made  one  of  the  abbot's  yeomen  prickers,  and  ride  about  in  a 
purple  doublet  as  bold  as  the  best. 99 

"Tush,  man,"  answered  Halbert,  "I  will  serve  the  Queen 
or  no  one.  Take  thou  care  to  have  down  the  venison  to  the 
tower,  since  they  expect  it.  I  will  on  to  the  moss.  I  have 
two  or  three  bird-bolts  at  my  girdle,  and  it  may  be  I  shall 
find  wild-fowl." 

He  hastened  his  pace,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight.  Martin 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  looked  after  him.  "  There  goes  the 
making  of  a  right  gallant  stripling,  an  ambition  have  not  the 
spoiling  of  him.  Serve  the  Queen!  said  he.  By  my  faith, 
and  she  hath  worse  servants,  from  all  that  I  e'er  heard  of 
him.  And  wherefore  should  he  not  keep  a  high  head?  They 
that  ettle  to  the  top  of  the  ladder  will  at  least  get  up  some 
rounds.  They  that  mint  at  a  gown  of  gold  will  always  get  a 
sleeve  of  it.  But  come,  sir  (addressing  the  stag),  you  shall 
go  to  Glendearg  on  my  two  legs  somewhat  more  slowly  than 
you  were  frisking  it  even  now  on  your  own  four  nimble  shanks. 
Nay,  by  my  faith,  if  you  be  so  heavy,  I  will  content  me  with 
the  best  of  you,  and  that's  the  haunch  and  the  nombles,  and 
e'en  heave  up  the  rest  on  the  old  oak-tree  yonder,  and  come 
back  for  it  with  one  of  the  yauds." 

While  Martin  returned  to  Glendearg  with  the  venison,  Hal- 
bert prosecuted  his  walk,  breathing  more  easily  since  he  was 
free  of  his  companion.  "  The  domestic  of  a  proud  and  lazy 
priest — body-squire  to  the  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrews,"  he 
repeated  to  himself;  "and  this,  with  the  privilege  of  allying 
his  blood  with  the  bailie  of  Pittenweem,  is  thought  a  prefer- 
ment worth  a  brave  man's  struggling  for;  nay  more,  a  prefer- 
ment which,  if  allowed,  should  crown  the  hopes,  past,  present, 


THE  MONASTERY. 


227 


and  to  come,  of  the  son  of  a  kirk-vassal !  By  Heaven,  but  that 
I  find  in  me  reluctance  to  practise  their  acts  of  nocturnal  ra- 
pine, I  would  rather  take  the  jack  and  lance,  and  join  with  the 
Border  riders.  Something  I  will  do.  Here,  degraded  and  dis- 
honoured, I  will  not  live  the  scorn  of  each  whiffling  stranger 
from  the  South,  because,  forsooth,  he  wears  tinkling  spurs  on 
a  tawny  boot.  This  thing — this  phantom,  be  it  what  it  will, 
I  will  see  it  once  more.  Since  I  spoke  with  her,  and  touched 
her  hand,  thoughts  and  feelings  have  dawned  on  me  of  which 
my  former  life  had  not  even  dreamed ;  but  shall  I,  who  feel 
my  father's  glen  too  narrow  for  my  expanding  spirit,  brook  to 
be  bearded  in  it  by  this  vain  gewgaw  of  a  courtier,  and  in  the 
sight  too  of  Mary  Avenel?    I  will  not  stoop  to  it,  by  Heaven !" 

As  he  spoke  thus,  he  arrived  in  the  sequestered  glen  of 
Corrie-nan-Shian,  as  it  verged  upon  the  hour  of  noon.  A  few 
moments  he  remained  looking  upon  the  fountain,  and  doubting 
in  his  own  mind  with  what  countenance  the  White  Lady  might 
receive  him.  She  had  not  indeed  expressly  forbidden  his 
again  evoking  her ;  but  yet  there  was  something  like  such  a 
prohibition  implied  in  the  farewell,  which  recommended  him 
to  wait  for  another  guide. 

Halbert  Glendinning  did  not  long,  however,  allow  himself 
to  pause.  Hardihood  was  the  natural  characteristic  of  his 
mind;  and  under  the  expansion  and  modification  which  his 
feelings  had  lately  undergone  it  had  been  augmented  rather 
than  diminished.  He  drew  his  sword,  undid  the  buskin  from 
his  foot,  bowed  three  times  with  deliberation  towards  the 
fountain,  and  as  often  towards  the  tree,  and  repeated  the  same 
rhyme  as  formerly : 

1 1  Thrice  to  the  holly  brake, 
Thrice  to  the  well ; 
I  bid  thee  awake, 
White  Maid  of  Avenel ! 

Noon  gleams  on  the  lake, 

Noon  glows  on  the  fell ; 
Wake  thee,  O  wake, 

White  Maid  of  Avenel  !  " 

His  eye  was  on  the  holly  bush  as  he  spoke  the  last  line ;  and 


228 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


it  was  not  without  an  involuntary  shuddering  that  he  saw  the 
air  betwixt  his  eye  and  that  object  become  more  dim,  and  con- 
dense, as  it  were,  into  the  faint  appearance  of  a  form,  through 
which,  however,  so  thin  and  transparent  was  the  first  appear- 
ance of  the  phantom,  he  could  discern  the  outline  of  the  bush, 
as  through  a  veil  of  fine  crape.  But  gradually  it  darkened 
into  a  more  substantial  appearance,  and  the  White  Lady  stood 
before  him  with  displeasure  on  her  brow.  She  spoke,  and  her 
speech  was  still  song,  or  rather  measured  chant;  but,  as  if  now 
more  familiar,  it  flowed  occasionally  in  modulated  blank-verse, 
and  at  other  times  in  the  lyrical  measure  which  she  had  used 
at  their  former  meeting. 

"  This  is  the  day  when  the  fairy  kind 
Sit  weeping  alone  for  their  hopeless  lot, 
And  the  wood-maiden  sighs  to  the  sighing  wind, 
And  the  mermaiden  weeps  in  her  crystal  grot : 
For  this  is  a  day  that  a  deed  was  wrought 
In  which  we  have  neither  part  nor  share, 
For  the  children  of  clay  was  salvation  bought, 
But  not  for  the  forms  of  sea  or  air ! 
And  ever  the  mortal  is  most  forlorn, 
Who  meeteth  our  race  on  the  Friday  morn." 

"  Spirit, "  said  Halbert  Glendinning,  boldly,  "  it  is  bootless 
to  threaten  one  who  holds  his  life  at  no  rate.  Thine  anger 
can  but  slay ;  nor  do  I  think  thy  power  extendeth,  or  thy  will 
stretcheth,  so  far.  The  terrors  which  your  race  produce  upon 
others  are  vain  against  me.  My  heart  is  hardened  against  fear, 
as  by  a  sense  of  despair.  If  I  am,  as  thy  words  infer,  of  a 
race  more  peculiarly  the  care  of  Heaven  than  thine,  it  is  mine 
to  call,  it  must  be  thine  to  answer.    I  am  the  nobler  being." 

As  he  spoke,  the  figure  looked  upon  him  with  a  fierce  and 
ireful  countenance,  which,  without  losing  the  similitude  of 
that  which  it  usually  exhibited,  had  a  wilder  and  more  exag- 
gerated cast  of  features.  The  eyes  seemed  to  contract  and 
become  more  fiery,  and  slight  convulsions  passed  over  the 
face,  as  if  it  was  about  to  be  transformed  into  something  hid- 
eous. The  whole  appearance  resembled  those  faces  which  the 
imagination  summons  up  when  it  is  disturbed  by  laudanum, 
but  which  do  not  remain  under  the  visionary's  command,  and, 


THE  MONASTERY. 


229 


beautiful  in  their  first  appearance,  become  wild  and  grotesque 
ere  we  can  arrest  them. 

But  when  Halbert  had  concluded  his  bold  speech,  the  White 
Lady  stood  before  him  with  the  same  pale,  fixed,  and  melan- 
choly aspect  which  she  usually  bore.  He  had  expected  the 
agitation  which  she  exhibited  would  conclude  in  some  fright- 
ful metamorphosis.  Folding  her  arms  on  her  bosom,  the  phan- 
tom replied : 

41  Daring  youth  !  for  thee  it  is  well, 
Here  calling  me  in  haunted  dell, 
That  thy  heart  has  not  quail' d, 
Nor  thy  courage  fail'd, 
And  that  thou  couldst  brook 
The  angry  look 
Of  her  of  Avenel. 
Did  one  limb  shiver, 
Or  an  eyelid  quiver, 
Thou  wert  lost  for  ever. 
Though  I  am  form'd  from  the  ether  blue, 
And  my  blood  is  of  the  unfallen  dew, 
And  thou  art  framed  of  mud  and  dust, 
'Tis  thine  to  speak,  reply  I  must." 

"I  demand  of  thee,  then,"  said  the  youth,  "by  what  charm 
it  is  that  I  am  thus  altered  in  mind  and  in  wishes ;  that  I 
think  no  longer  of  deer  or  dog,  of  bow  or  bolt ;  that  my  soul 
spurns  the  bounds  of  this  obscure  glen ;  that  my  blood  boils 
at  an  insult  from  one  by  whose  stirrup  I  would  some  days 
since  have  run  for  a  whole  summer's  morn,  contented  and 
honoured  by  the  notice  of  a  single  word?  Why  do  I  now  seek 
to  mate  me  with  princes,  and  knights,  and  nobles?  Am  I  the 
same  who  but  yesterday,  as  it  were,  slumbered  in  contented 
obscurity,  but  who  am  to-day  awakened  to  glory  and  ambition  ? 
Speak — tell  me,  if  thou  canst,  the  meaning  of  this  change! 
Am  I  spell-bound,  or  have  I  till  now  been  under  the  influence 
of  a  spell,  that  I  feel  as  another  being,  yet  am  conscious  of 
remaining  the  same?  Speak  and  tell  me,  is  it  to  thy  influ- 
ence that  the  change  is  owing?" 

The  White  Lady  replied : 

u  A  mightier  wizard  far  than  I 

Wields  o'er  the  universe  his  power ; 
Him  owns  the  eagle  in  the  sky, 
The  turtle  in  the  bower. 


230 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Changeful  in  shape,  yet  mightiest  still, 
He  wields  the  heart  of  man  at  will, 
From  ill  to  good,  from  good  to  ill, 
In  cot  and  castle-tower." 

"  Speak  not  thus  darkly, "  said  the  youth,  colouring  so  deeply 
that  face,  neck,  and  hands  were  in  a  sanguine  glow;  "make 
me  sensible  of  thy  purpose." 

The  spirit  answered : 

"  Ask  thy  heart,  whose  secret  cell 
Is  fill'd  with  Mary  A  vend  ! 
Ask  thy  pride,  why  scornful  look 
In  Mary's  view  it  will  not  brook? 
Ask  it,  why  thou  seek'st  to  rise 
Among  the  mighty  and  the  wise, 
Why  thou  spurn 'st  thy  lowly  lot, 
Why  thy  pastimes  are  forgot, 
Why  thou  wouldst  in  bloody  strife 
Mend  thy  luck  or  lose  thy  life? 
Ask  thy  heart,  and  it  shall  tell, 
Sighing  from  its  secret  cell, 
'Tis  for  Mary  Avenel." 

"  Tell  me,  then, "  said  Halbert,  his  cheek  still  deeply  crim- 
soned, "  thou  who  hast  said  to  me  that  which  I  dared  not  to 
say  myself,  by  what  means  shall  I  urge  my  passion — by  what 
means  make  it  known?" 

The  White  Lady  replied : 

"  Do  not  ask  me ; 
On  doubts  like  these  thou  canst  not  task  me. 
We  only  see  the  passing  show 
Of  human  passions'  ebb  and  flow  ; 
And  view  the  pageant's  idle  glance 
As  mortals  eye  the  northern  dance, 
When  thousand  streamers,  flashing  bright, 
Career  it  o'er  the  brow  of  night, 
And  gazers  mark  their  changeful  gleams, 
But  feel  no  influence  from  their  beams." 

"  Yet  thine  own  fate, "  replied  Halbert,  "  unless  men  greatly 
err,  is  linked  with  that  of  mortals?" 
The  phantom  answered: 

41  By  ties  mysterious  link'd,  our  fated  race 
Holds  strange  connection  with  the  sons  of  men. 
The  star  that  rose  upon  the  house  of  Avenel, 
When  Norman  Ulric  first  assumed  the  name, 


THE  MONASTEKY. 


231 


That  star,  when  culminating  in  its  orbit. 
Shot  from  its  sphere  a  drop  of  diamond  dew, 
And  this  bright  font  received  it ;  and  a  Spirit 
Rose  from  the  fountain,  and  her  date  of  life 
Hath  co-existence  with  the  house  of  Avenel, 
And  with  the  star  that  rules  it." 

"Speak  yet  more  plainly,"  answered  young  Glendinning ; 
"  of  this  I  can  understand  nothing.  Say  what  hath  forged 
thy  weirded  link  of  destiny  with  the  house  of  Avenel?  Say, 
especially,  what  fate  now  overhangs  that  house?" 

The  White  Lady  replied : 

"  Look  on  my  girdle— on  this  thread  of  gold, 
'Tis  tine  as  web  of  lightest  gossamer, 
And,  but  there  is  a  spell  on't,  would  not  bind, 
Light  as  they  are,  the  folds  of  my  thin  robe. 
But  when  'twas  donn'd,  it  was  a  massive  chain, 
Such  as  might  bind  the  champion  of  the  Jews, 
Even  when  his  locks  were  longest ;  it  hath  dwindled 
Hath  minish'd  in  its  substance  and  its  strength, 
As  sunk  the  greatness  of  the  house  of  Avenel. 
When  this  frai1.  thread  gives  way,  I  to  the  elements 
Resign  the  principles  of  life  they  lent  me. 
Ask  me  no  more  of  this  !  the  stars  forbid  it." 

"Then  canst  thou  read  the  stars,"  answered  the  youth, 
"  and  mayst  tell  me  the  fate  of  my  passion,  if  thou  canst  not 
aid  it?" 

The  White  Lady  again  replied : 

11  Dim  burns  the  once  bright  star  of  Avenel, 
Dim  as  the  beacon  when  the  morn  is  nigh, 
And  the  o'er-wearied  warder  leaves  the  light-house; 
There  is  an  influence  sorrowful  and  fearful, 
That  dogs  its  downward  course.    Disastrous  passion, 
Fierce  hate  and  rivalry,  are  in  the  aspect 
That  lowers  upon  its  fortunes." 

"And  rivalry!"  repeated  Glendinning.  "It  is  then  as  I 
feared!  But  shall  that  English  silkworm  presume  to  beard 
me  in  my  father's  house,  and  in  the  presence  of  Mary  Avenel? 
Give  me  to  meet  him,  spirit — give  me  to  do  away  the  vain  dis- 
tinction of  rank  on  which  he  refuses  me  the  combat.  Place 
us  on  equal  terms,  and  gleam  the  stars  with  what  aspect  they 
will,  the  sword  of  my  father  shall  control  their  influences." 


232 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


She  answered  as  promptly  as  before : 

11  Complain  not  of  me,  child  of  clay, 
If  to  thy  harm  I  yield  the  way. 
We,  who  soar  thy  sphere  above, 
Know  not  aught  of  hate  or  love ; 
As  will  or  wisdom  rules  thy  mood, 
My  gifts  to  evil  turn,  or  good." 

"  Give  me  to  redeem  my  honour, "  said  Halbert  Glendin- 
ning — "  give  me  to  retort  on  my  proud  rival  the  insults  he  has 
thrown  on  me,  and  let  the  rest  fare  as  it  will.  If  I  cannot  re- 
venge my  wrong,  I  shall  sleep  quiet,  and  know  nought  of  my 
disgrace." 

The  phantom  failed  not  to  reply : 

M  When  Piercie  Shafton  boasteth  high, 
Let  this  token  meet  his  eye. 
The  sun  is  westering  from  the  dell, 
Thy  wish  is  granted,  fare  thee  well !  " 

As  the  White  Lady  spoke  or  chanted  these  last  words,  she 
undid  from  her  locks  a  silver  bodkin  around  which  they  were 
twisted,  and  gave  it  to  Halbert  Glendinning;  then  shaking 
her  dishevelled  hair  till  it  fell  like  a  veil  around  her,  the  out- 
lines of  her  form  gradually  became  as  diffuse  as  her  flowing 
tresses,  her  countenance  grew  pale  as  the  moon  in  her  first 
quarter,  her  features  became  indistinguishable,  and  she  melted 
into  the  air. 

Habit  inures  us  to  wonders ;  but  the  youth  did  not  find  him- 
self alone  by  the  fountain  without  experiencing,  though  in  a 
much  less  degree,  the  revulsion  of  spirits  which  he  had  felt 
upon  the  phantom's  former  disappearance.  A  doubt  strongly 
pressed  upon  his  mind,  whether  it  were  safe  to  avail  himself 
of  the  gifts  of  a  spirit  which  did  not  even  pretend  to  belong  to 
the  class  of  angels,  and  might,  for  aught  he  knew,  have  a  much 
worse  lineage  than  that  which  she  was  pleased  to  avow.  "  I 
will  speak  of  it, "  he  said,  "  to  Edward,  who  is  clerkly  learned, 
and  will  tell  me  what  I  should  do.  And  yet,  no — Edward  is 
scrupulous  and  wary.  I  will  prove  the  effect  of  her  gift  on 
Sir  Piercie  Shafton  if  he  again  braves  me,  and  by  the  issue  I 
will  be  myself  a  sufficient  judge  whether  there  is  danger  in  re- 
sorting to  her  counsel.    Home,  then — home,  and  we  shall  soon 


THE  MONASTERY. 


233 


learn  whether  that  home  shall  longer  hold  me ;  for  not  again 
will  I  brook  insult,  with  my  father's  sword  by  my  side  and 
Mary  for  the  spectator  of  my  disgrace." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

I  give  thee  eighteenpence  a  day, 

And  my  bow  shalt  thou  bear, 
And  over  all  the  north  country, 

I  make  thee  the  chief  rydere. 
And  I  thirteenpence  a  day,  quoth  the  queen, 

By  God  and  by  my  faye ; 
Come  fetch  thy  payment  when  thou  wilt, 

No  man  shall  say  thee  nay. 

William  of  Cloudesley. 

The  manners  of  the  age  did  not  permit  the  inhabitants  of 
Glendearg  to  partake  of  the  collation  which  was  placed  in  the 
spence  of  that  ancient  tower  before  the  lord  abbot  and  his  at- 
tendants and  Sir  Piercie  Shafton.  Dame  Glendinning  was 
excluded  both  by  inferiority  of  rank  and  by  sex;  for  (though 
it  was  a  rule  often  neglected)  the  superior  of  St.  Mary's  was 
debarred  from  taking  his  meals  in  female  society.  To  Mary 
Avenel  the  latter,  and  to  Edward  Glendinning  the  former,  in- 
capacity attached;  but  it  pleased  his  lordship  to  require  their 
presence  in  the  apartment,  and  to  say  sundry  kind  words  to 
them  upon  the  ready  and  hospitable  reception  which  they  had 
afforded  him. 

The  smoking  haunch  now  stood  upon  the  table ;  a  napkin, 
white  as  snow,  was,  with  due  reverence,  tucked  under  the 
chin  of  the  abbot  by  the  ref ectioner ;  and  nought  was  wanting 
to  commence  the  repast,  save  the  presence  of  Sir  Piercie  Shaf- 
ton, who  at  length  appeared,  glittering  like  the  sun,  in  a  car- 
nation-velvet doublet,  slashed  and  puffed  out  with  cloth  of 
silver,  his  hat  of  the  newest  block,  surrounded  by  a  hatband 
of  goldsmith's  work,  while  around  his  neck  he  wore  a  collar 
of  gold,  set  with  rubies  and  topazes  so  rich  that  it  vindicated 
his  anxiety^  the  safety  of  his  baggage  from  being  founded 


234  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

upon  his  love  of  mere  finery.  This  gorgeous  collar  or  chain, 
resembling  those  worn  by  the  knights  of  the  highest  orders 
of  chivalry,  fell  down  on  his  breast,  and  terminated  in  a  me- 
dallion. 

"We  waited  for  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,"  said  the  abbot, 
hastily  assuming  his  place  in  the  great  chair  which  the  kitch- 
ener advanced  to  the  table  with  ready  hand. 

"  I  pray  your  pardon,  reverend  father  and  my  good  lord, " 
replied  that  pink  of  courtesy;  "I  did  but  wait  to  cast  my 
riding  slough,  and  to  transmew  myself  into  some  civil  form 
meeter  for  this  worshipful  company." 

"I  cannot  but  praise  your  gallantry,  sir  knight,"  said  the 
abbot,  "  and  your  prudence  also,  for  choosing  the  fitting 
time  to  appear  thus  adorned.  Certes,  had  that  goodly  chain 
been  visible  in  some  part  of  your  late  progress,  there  was 
risk  that  the  lawful  owner  might  have  parted  company  there- 
with." 

"This  chain,  said  your  reverence?"  answered  Sir  Piercie. 
"  Surely  it  is  but  a  toy,  a  trifle,  a  slight  thing,  which  shows 
but  poorly  with  this  doublet ;  marry,  when  I  wear  that  of  the 
murrey-coloured,  double-piled  Genoa  velvet,  puffed  out  with 
ciprus,  the  gems,  being  relieved  and  set  off  by  the  darker  and 
more  grave  ground  of  the  stuff,  show  like  stars  giving  a  lustre 
through  dark  clouds." 

"I  nothing  doubt  it,"  said  the  abbot;  "but  I  pray  you  to 
sit  down  at  the  board." 

But  Sir  Piercie  had  now  got  into  his  element,  and  was  not 
easily  interrupted.  "I  own,"  he  continued,  "that,  slight  as 
the  toy  is,  it  might  perchance  have  had  some  captivation  for 

Julian  Sancta  Maria!"  said  he,  interrupting  himself; 

"  what  was  I  about  to  say,  and  my  fair  and  beauteous  Protec- 
tion, or  shall  I  rather  term  her  my  Discretion,  here  in  pres- 
ence! Indiscreet  had  it  been  in  your  Affability,  0  most 
lovely  Discretion,  to  suffer  a  stray  word  to  have  broke  out 
of  the  pen-fold  of  his  mouth,  that  might  overleap  the  fence 
of  civility,  and  trespass  on  the  manor  of  decorum." 

"Marry!"  said  the  abbot,  somewhat  impatiently,  "the 
greatest  discretion  that  I  can  see  in  the  mattf  weixto  eat  our 


THE  MONASTERY. 


235 


victuals  being  hot.  Father  Eustace,  say  the  Benedicite,  and 
cut  up  the  haunch/' 

The  sub-prior  readily  obeyed  the  first  part  of  the  abbot's 
injunction,  but  paused  upon  the  second.  "  It  is  Friday,  most 
reverend,"  he  said  in  Latin,  desirous  that  the  hint  should 
escape,  if  possible,  the  ears  of  the  stranger. 

"  We  are  travellers,"  said  the  abbot,  in  reply,  "and  viatori- 
bus  licit um  est.  You  know  the  canon:  a  traveller  must  eat 
what  food  his  hard  fate  sets  before  him.  I  grant  you  all  a 
dispensation  to  eat  flesh  this  day,  conditionally  that  you, 
brethren,  say  the  conftteor  at  curfew  time,  that  the  knight 
give  alms  to  his  ability,  and  that  all  and  each  of  you  fast 
from  flesh  on  such  day  within  the  next  month  that  shall  seem 
most  convenient ;  wherefore  fall  to  and  eat  your  food  with 
cheerful  countenances ;  and  you,  father  refectioner,  da  mixtus." 

While  the  abbot  was  thus  stating  the  conditions  on  which 
his  indulgence  was  granted,  he  had  already  half-finished  a 
slice  of  the  noble  haunch,  and  now  washed  it  down  with  a 
flagon  of  Rhenish,  modestly  tempered  with  water. 

"  Well  is  it  said, 99  he  observed,  as  he  required  from  the  re- 
fectioner another  slice,  "  that  virtue  is  its  own  reward ;  for 
though  this  is  but  humble  fare,  and  hastily  prepared,  and 
eaten  in  a  poor  chamber,  I  do  not  remember  me  of  having  had 
such  an  appetite  since  I  was  a  simple  brother  in  the  Abbey  of 
Dundrennan,  and  was  wont  to  labour  in  the  garden  from  morn- 
ing until  nones,  when  our  abbot  struck  the  cymbalum.  Then 
would  I  enter  keen  with  hunger,  parched  with  thirst — da 
mihi  vinum,  qimso,  et  memtm  sit — and  partake  with  appetite 
of  whatever  was  set  before  us,  according  to  our  rule ;  feast  or 
fast -day,  caritas  or  pamitentia,  was  the  same  to  me.  I  had  no 
stomach  complaints  then,  which  now  crave  both  the  aid  of 
wine  and  choice  cookery  to  render  my  food  acceptable  to  my 
palate,  and  easy  of  digestion." 

"It  may  be,  holy  father,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "an  occa- 
sional ride  to  the  extremity  of  St.  Mary's  patrimony  may 
have  the  same  happy  eff  act  on  your  health  as  the  air  of  the 
garden  at  Dundrennan." 

"Perchance,  with  our  patroness's  blessing,  such  progresses 


236 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


may  advantage  us, "  said  the  abbot ;  "  having  an  especial  eye 
that  our  venison  is  carefully  killed  by  some  woodman  that  is 
master  of  his  craft." 

"If  the  lord  abbot  will  permit  me,"  said  the  kitchener,  "I 
think  the  best  way  to  assure  his  lordship  on  that  important 
point  would  be  to  retain  as  a  yeoman  pricker,  or  deputy -ran- 
ger, the  eldest  son  of  this  good  wpman,  Dame  Glendinning, 
who  is  here  to  wait  upon  us.  I  should  know  by  mine  office 
what  belongs  to  killing  of  game,  and  I  can  safely  pronounce 
that  never  saw  I,  or  any  other  coqainarias,  a  bolt  so  justly 
shot.    It  has  cloven  the  very  heart  of  the  buck.'7 

"What  speak  you  to  us  of  one  good  shot,  father?"  said  Sir 
Piercie ;  "  I  would  advise  you  that  such  no  more  maketh  a 
shooter  than  doth  one  swallow  make  a  summer.  I  have  seen 
this  springald  of  whom  you  speak,  and  if  his  hand  can  send 
forth  his  shafts  as  boldly  as  his  tongue  doth  utter  presump- 
tuous speeches,  I  will  own  him  as  good  an  archer  as  Kobin 
Hood." 

"  Marry, "  said  the  abbot,  "  and  it  is  fitting  we  know  the 
truth  of  this  matter  from  the  dame  herself;  for  ill-advised 
were  we  to  give  way  to  any  rashness  in  this  matter,  whereby 
the  bounties  which  Heaven  and  our  patroness  provide  might 
be  unskilfully  mangled,  and  rendered  unfit  for  worthy  men's 
use.  Stand  forth,  therefore,  Dame  Glendinning,  and  tell  to 
us,  as  thy  liege  lord  and  spiritual  superior,  using  plainness 
and  truth,  without  either  fear  or  favour,  as  being  a  matter 
wherein  we  are  deeply  interested,  doth  this  son  of  thine  use 
his  bow  as  well  as  the  father  kitchener  avers  to  us?" 

"  So  please  your  noble  fatherhood, "  answered  Dame  Glen- 
dinning, with  a  deep  courtesy,  "  I  should  know  somewhat  of 
archery  to  my  cost,  seeing  my  husband — God  assoilzie  him! — 
was  slain  in  the  field  of  Pinkie  with  an  arrow-shot,  while  he 
was  fighting  under  the  Kirk's  banner,  as  became  a  liege  vas- 
sal of  the  halidome.  He  was  a  valiant  man,  please  your  rev- 
erence, and  an  honest;  and  saving  that  he  loved  a  bit  of  veni- 
son, and  shifted  for  his  living  at  a  time,  as  Border  men  will 
sometimes  do,  I  wot  not  of  sin  that  he  did.  And  yet,  though 
I  have  paid  for  mass  after  mass,  to  the  matter  of  a  forty  shil- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


237 


ling,  besides  a  quarter  of  wheat  and  four  firlots  of  rye,  I  can 
have  no  assurance  yet  that  he  has  been  delivered  from  pur- 
gatory." 

"Dame,"  said  the  lord  abbot,  "this  shall  be  looked  into 
heedf ully ;  and  since  thy  husband  fell,  as  thou  sayest,  in  the 
Kirk's  quarrel,  and  under  her  banner,  rely  upon  it  that  we 
will  have  him  out  of  purgatory  forthwith — that  is,  always 
provided  he  be  there.  But  it  is  not  of  thy  husband  whom 
we  now  devise  to  speak,  but  of  thy  son ;  not  of  a  shot  Scots- 
man, but  of  a  shot  deer.  Wherefore  I  say  answer  me  to  the 
point,  is  thy  son  a  practised  archer,  ay  or  no?" 

"  Alack !  my  reverend  lord, "  replied  the  widow,  "  and  my 
croft  would  be  better  tilled  if  I  could  answer  your  reverence 
that  he  is  not.  Practised  archer!  Marry,  holy  sir,  I  would 
he  would  practise  something  else — cross-bow  and  long-bow, 
hand-gun  and  hackbut,  falconet  and  saker,  he  can  shoot  with 
them  all.  And  if  it  would  please  this  right  honourable  gentle- 
man, our  guest,  to  hold  out  his  hat  at  the  distance  of  a  hun- 
dred yards,  our  Halbert  shall  send  shaft,  bolt,  or  bullet  through 
it — so  that  right  honourable  gentleman  swerve  not,  but  hold 
out  steady — and  I  will  forfeit  a  quarter  of  barley  if  he  touch 
but  a  knot  of  his  ribands.  I  have  seen  our  Old  Martin  do  as 
much,  and  so  has  our  right  reverend  the  sub-prior,  if  he  be 
pleased  to  remember  it." 

"  I  am  not  like  to  forget  it,  dame, "  said  Father  Eustace ; 
"  for  I  knew  not  which  most  to  admire,  the  composure  of  the 
young  marksman  or  the  steadiness  of  the  old  mark.  Yet  I 
presume  not  to  advise  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  to  subject  his  valu- 
able beaver,  and  yet  more  valuable  person,  to  such  a  risk, 
unless  it  should  be  his  own  special  pleasure." 

"  Be  assured  it  is  not, "  said  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  something 
hastily — "  be  well  assured,  holy  father,  that  it  is  not.  I  dis- 
pute not  the  lad's  qualities,  for  which  your  reverence  vouches. 
But  bows  are  but  wood,  strings  are  but  flax,  or  the  silkworm's 
excrement  at  best,  archers  are  but  men :  fingers  may  slip,  eyes 
may  dazzle,  the  blindest  may  hit  the  butt,  the  best  marker 
may  shoot  a  bow's  length  beside.  Therefore  will  we  try  no 
perilous  experiments." 


238 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"Be  that  as  you  will,  Sir  Piercie,"  said  the  abbot;  "mean- 
time, we  will  name  this  youth  bow-bearer  in  the  forest  granted 
to  us  by  good  King  David,  that  the  chase  might  recreate  our 
wearied  spirits,  the  flesh  of  the  deer  improve  our  poor  com- 
mons, and  the  hides  cover  the  books  of  our  library;  thus 
tending  at  once  to  the  sustenance  of  body  and  soul. " 

"Kneel  down,  woman — kneel  down,"  said  the  refectioner 
and  the  kitchener  with  one  voice  to  Dame  Glendinning,  "  and 
kiss  his  lordship's  hand  for  the  grace  which  he  has  granted  to 
thy  son." 

They  then,  as  if  they  had  been  chanting  the  service  and  the 
responses,  set  off  in  a  sort  of  duetto,  enumerating  the  advan- 
tages of  the  situation. 

"  A  green  gown  and  a  pair  of  leathern  galligaskins  every 
Pentecost, "  said  the  kitchener. 

"  Four  marks  by  the  year  at  Candlemas, "  answered  the  re- 
fectioner. 

"  An  hogshead  of  ale  at  Martlemas,  of  the  double  strike,  and 
single  ale  at  pleasure,  as  he  shall  agree  with  the  cellarer  " 

"Who  is  a  reasonable  man,"  said  the  abbot,  "and  will  en- 
courage an  active  servant  of  the  convent." 

"  A  mess  of  broth  and  a  dole  of  mutton  or  beef  at  the 
kitchener's  on  each  high  holiday,"  resumed  the  kitchener. 

"  The  gang  of  two  cows  and  a  palfrey  on  Our  Lady's  mead- 
ow," answered  his  brother-officer. 

"An  ox-hide  to  make  buskins  of  yearly,  because  of  the 
brambles, "  echoed  the  kitchener. 

"  And  various  other  perquisites,  quce  nunc  prcescribere  lon- 
gum,"  said  the  abbot,  summing,  with  his  own  lordly  voice, 
the  advantages  attached  to  the  office  of  conventual  bow-bearer. 

Dame  Glendinning  was  all  this  while  on  her  knees,  her 
head  mechanically  turning  from  the  one  church-officer  to  the 
other,  which,  as  they  stood  one  on  each  side  of  her,  had  much 
the  appearance  of  a  figure  moved  by  clock-work,  and  so  soon 
as  they  were  silent,  most  devoutly  did  she  kiss  the  munificent 
hand  of  the  abbot.  Conscious,  however,  of  Halbert's  intrac- 
tability in  some  points,  she  could  not  help  qualifying  her 
grateful  and  reiterated  thanks  for  the  abbot's  bountiful  prof- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


239 


f  er  with  a  hope  that  Halbert  would  see  his  wisdom,  and  accept 
of  it. 

"  How, "  said  the  abbot,  bending  his  brows,  "  accept  of  it ! 
Woman,  is  thy  son  in  his  right  wits?" 

Elspeth,  stunned  by  the  tone  in  which  this  question  was 
asked,  was  altogether  unable  to  reply  to  it.  Indeed,  any  an- 
swer she  might  have  made  could  hardly  have  been  heard,  as 
it  pleased  the  two  office-bearers  of  the  abbot's  table  again  to 
recommence  their  alternate  dialogue. 

"Refuse!"  said  the  kitchener. 

"Refuse!"  answered  the  refectioner,  echoing  the  other's 
word  in  a  tone  of  still  louder  astonishment. 

"Refuse  four  marks  by  the  year!"  said  the  one. 

"Ale  and  beer — broth  and  mutton — cow's  grass  and  pal- 
frey's!" shouted  the  kitchener. 

"Gown  and  galligaskins!"  responded  the  refectioner. 

"A  moment's  patience,  my  brethren,"  answered  the  sub- 
prior,  "  and  let  us  not  be  thus  astonished  before  cause  is  af- 
forded of  our  amazement.  This  good  dame  best  knoweth  the 
temper  and  spirit  of  her  son ;  this  much  I  can  say,  that  it 
lieth  not  towards  letters  or  learning,  of  which  I  have  in  vain 
endeavoured  to  instil  into  him  some  tincture.  Nevertheless, 
he  is  a  youth  of  no  common  spirit,  but  much  like  those,  in  my 
judgment,  whom  God  raises  up  among  a  people  when  He  mean- 
eth  that  their  deliverance  shall  be  wrought  out  with  strength 
of  hand  and  valour  of  heart.  Such  men  we  have  seen  marked 
by  a  waywardness,  and  even  an  obstinacy,  of  character  which 
hath  appeared  intractability  and  stupidity  to  those  among 
whom  they  walked  and  were  conversant,  until  the  very  oppor- 
tunity hath  arrived  in  which  it  was  the  will  of  Providence 
that  they  should  be  the  fitting  instrument  of  great  things." 

"Now,  in  good  time  hast  thou  spoken,  Father  Eustace," 
said  the  abbot ;  "  and  we  will  see  this  swankie  before  we  de- 
cide upon  the  means  of  employing  him.  How  say  you,  Sir 
Piercie  Shafton,  is  it  not  the  court  fashion  to  suit  the  man  to 
the  office,  and  not  the  office  to  the  man?" 

"  So  please  your  reverence  and  lordship, "  answered  the 
Northumbrian  knight,  "I  do  partly,  that  is,  in  some  sort, 


240 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


subscribe  to  what  your  wisdom  hath  delivered.  Nevertheless, 
under  reverence  of  the  sub-prior,  we  do  not  look  for  gallant 
leaders  and  national  deliverers  in  the  hovels  of  the  mean  com- 
mon people.  Credit  me,  that  if  there  be  some  flashes  of  martial 
spirit  about  this  young  person,  which  I  am  not  called  upon 
to  dispute,  though  I  have  seldom  seen  that  presumption  and 
arrogance  were  made  good  upon  the  upshot  by  deed  and  ac- 
tion ;  yet  still  these  will  prove  insufficient  to  distinguish  him, 
save  in  his  own  limited  and  lowly  sphere,  even  as  the  glow- 
worm, which  makes  a  goodly  show  among  the  grass  of  the 
field,  would  be  of  little  avail  if  deposited  in  a  beacon-grate." 

"Now,  in  good  time,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "and  here  comes 
the  young  huntsman  to  speak  for  himself" ;  for,  being  placed 
opposite  to  the  window,  he  could  observe  Halbert  as  he  as- 
cended the  little  mound  on  which  the  tower  was  situated. 

"  Summon  him  to  our  presence,"  said  the  lord  abbot;  and 
with  an  obedient  start  the  two  attendant  monks  went  off  with 
emulous  alertness.  Dame  Glendinning  sprung  away  at  the 
same  moment,  partly  to  gain  an  instant  to  recommend  obedi- 
ence to  her  son,  partly  to  prevail  with  him  to  change  his  ap- 
parel before  coming  in  presence  of  the  abbot.  But  the  kitch- 
ener and  ref  ectioner,  both  speaking  at  once,  had  already  seized 
each  an  arm,  and  were  leading  Halbert  in  triumph  into  the 
apartment,  so  that  she  could  only  ejaculate:  "His  will  be 
done;  but  an  he  had  but  had  on  him  his  Sunday's  hose!" 

Limited  and  humble  as  this  desire  was,  the  fates  did  not 
grant  it ;  for.  Halbert  Glendinning  was  hurried  into  the  pres- 
ence of  the  lord  abbot  and  his  party  without  a  word  of  expla- 
nation, and  without  a  moment's  time  being  allowed  to  assume 
his  holiday  hose,  which,  in  the  language  of  the  time,  implied 
both  breeches  and  stockings. 

Yet,  though  thus  suddenly  presented  amid  the  centre  of  all 
eyes,  there  was  something  in  Halbert's  appearance  which  com- 
manded a  certain  degree  of  respect  from  the  company  into 
which  he  was  so  unceremoniously  intruded,  and  the  greater 
part  of  whom  were  disposed  to  consider  him  with  hauteur,  if 
not  with  absolute  contempt.  But  his  appearance  and  reception 
we  must  devote  to  another  chapter. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


241 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Now  choose  thee,  gallant,  betwixt  wealth  and  honour ; 
There  lies  the  pelf,  in  sum  to  bear  thee  through 
The  dance  of  youth  and  the  turmoil  of  manhood, 
Yet  leave  enough  for  age's  chimney-corner; 
But  an  thou  grasp  to  it,  farewell  ambition, 
Farewell  each  hope  of  bettering  thy  condition, 
And  raising  thy  low  rank  above  the  churls 
That  till  the  earth  for  bread. 

Old  Play. 

It  is  necessary  to  dwell  for  some  brief  space  on  the  appear- 
ance and  demeanour  of  young  Glendinning,  ere  we  proceed  to 
describe  his  interview  with  the  abbot  of  St.  Mary's,  at  this 
momentous  crisis  of  his  life. 

Halbert  was  now  about  nineteen  years  old,  tall  and  active 
rather  than  strong,  yet  of  that  hardy  conformation  of  limb 
and  sinew  which  promises  great  strength  when  the  growth 
shall  be  complete  and  the  system  confirmed.  He  was  per- 
fectly well  made,  and,  like  most  men  who  have  that  advan- 
tage, possessed  a  grace  and  natural  ease  of  manner  and  car- 
riage which  prevented  his  height  from  being  the  distinguished 
part  of  his  external  appearance.  It  was  not  until  you  had 
compared  his  stature  with  that  of  those  amongst  or  near  to 
whom  he  stood  that  you  became  sensible  that  the  young  Glen- 
dinning  was  upwards  of  six  feet  high.  In  the  combination  of 
unusual  height  with  perfect  symmetry,  ease,  and  grace  of  car- 
riage, the  young  heir  of  Glendearg,  notwithstanding  his  rustic 
birth  and  education,  had  greatly  the  advantage  even  of  Sir 
Piercie  Shafton  himself,  whose  stature  was  lower,  and  his 
limbs,  though  there  was  no  particular  point  to  object  to,  were 
on  the  whole  less  exactly  proportioned.  On  the  other  hand, 
Sir  Piercie' s  very  handsome  countenance  afforded  him  as  de- 
cided an  advantage  over  the  Scotsman  as  regularity  of  features 
and  brilliance  of  complexion  could  give  over  traits  which  were 
rather  strongly  marked  than  beautiful,  and  upon  whose  com- 
plexion the  "  skyey  influences, "  to  which  he  was  constantly 
exposed,  had  blended  the  red  and  white  into  the  purely  nut- 
brown  hue,  which  coloured  alike  cheeks,  neck,  and  forehead, 
16 


242 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  blushed  only  in  a  darker  glow  upon  the  former.  Hal- 
bert's  eyes  supplied  a  marked  and  distinguished  part  of  his 
physiognomy.  They  were  large  and  of  a  hazel 1  colour,  and 
sparkled  in  moments  of  animation  with  such  uncommon  bril- 
liancy that  it  seemed  as  if  they  actually  emitted  light.  Na- 
ture had  closely  curled  the  locks  of  dark-brown  hair,  which 
relieved  and  set  off  the  features,  such  as  we  have  described 
them,  displaying  a  bold  and  animated  disposition,  much  more 
than  might  have  been  expected  from  his  situation,  or  from  his 
previous  manners,  which  hitherto  had  seemed  bashful,  homely, 
and  awkward. 

Halbert's  dress  was  certainly  not  of  that  description  which 
sets  off  to  the  best  advantage  a  presence  of  itself  prepossess- 
ing. His  jerkin  and  hose  were  of  coarse  rustic  cloth,  and  his 
cap  of  the  same.  A  belt  round  his  waist  served  at  once  to 
sustain  the  broadsword  which  we  have  already  mentioned,  and 
to  hold  five  or  six  arrows  and  bird-bolts,  which  were  stuck 
into  it  on  the  right  side,  along  with  a  large  knife  hilted  with 
buck-horn,  or,  as  it  was  then  called,  a  dudgeon- dagger.  To 
complete  his  dress,  we  must  notice  his  loose  buskins  of  deer's- 
hide,  formed  so  as  to  draw  up  on  the  leg  as  high  as  the  knee, 
or  at  pleasure  to  be  thrust  down  lower  than  the  calves.  These 
were  generally  used  at  the  period  by  such  as  either  had  their 
principal  occupation  or  their  chief  pleasure  in  silvan  sports,  as 
they  served  to  protect  the  legs  against  the  rough  and  tangled 
thickets  into  which  the  pursuit  of  game  frequently  led  them. 
And  these  trifling  particulars  complete  his  external  appearance. 

It  is  not  so  easy  to  do  justice  to  the  manner  in  which  young 
Glendinning's  soul  spoke  through  his  eyes,  when  ushered  so 
suddenly  into  the  company  of  those  whom  his  earliest  educa- 
tion had  taught  him  to  treat  with  awe  and  reverence.  The 
degree  of  embarrassment  which  his  demeanour  evinced  had 
nothing  in  it  either  meanly  servile  or  utterly  disconcerted.  It 
was  no  more  than  became  a  generous  and  ingenuous  youth 
of  a  bold  spirit,  but  totally  inexperienced,  who  should  for 
the  first  time  be  called  upon  to  think  and  act  for  himself  in 
such  society,  and  under  such  disadvantageous  circumstances. 
1  [See  p.  71  above.] 


THE  MONASTERY. 


243 


There  was  not  in  his  carriage  a  grain  either  of  forwardness 
or  of  timidity  which  a  friend  could  have  wished  away. 

He  kneeled  and  kissed  the  abbot's  hand,  then  rose,  and, 
retiring  two  paces,  bowed  respectfully  to  the  circle  around, 
smiling  gently  as  he  received  an  encouraging  nod  from  the 
sub-prior,  to  whom  alone  he  was  personally  known,  and  blush- 
ing as  he  encountered  the  anxious  look  of  Mary  Avenel,  who 
beheld  with  painful  interest  the  sort  of  ordeal  to  which  her 
foster-brother  was  about  to  be  subjected.  Eecovering  from 
the  transient  flurry  of  spirits  into  which  the  encounter  of  her 
glance  had  thrown  him,  he  stood  composedly  awaiting  till  the 
abbot  should  express  his  pleasure. 

The  ingenuous  expression  of  countenance,  noble  form,  and 
graceful  attitude  of  the  young  man  failed  not  to  prepossess 
in  his  favour  the  churchmen  in  whose  presence  he  stood. 
The  abbot  looked  round  and  exchanged  a  gracious  and  approv- 
ing glance  with  his  counsellor,  Father  Eustace,  although  prob- 
ably the  appointment  of  a  ranger,  or  bow-bearer,  was  one  in 
which  he  might  have  been  disposed  to  proceed  without  the 
sub-prior's  advice,  were  it  but  to  show  his  own  free  agency. 
But  the  good  mien  of  the  young  man  now  in  nomination  was 
such  that  he  rather  hastened  to  exchange  congratulation  on 
meeting  with  so  proper  a  subject  of  promotion  than  to  indulge 
any  other  feeling.  Father  Eustace  enjoyed  the  pleasure  which 
a  well-constituted  mind  derives  from  seeing  a  benefit  light  on 
a  deserving  object;  for,  as  he  had  not  seen  Halbert  since  cir- 
cumstances had  made  so  material  a  change  in  his  manner  and 
feelings,  he  scarce  doubted  that  the  proffered  appointment 
would,  notwithstanding  his  mother's  uncertainty,  suit  the  dis- 
position of  a  youth  who  had  appeared  devoted  to  woodland 
sports,  and  a  foe  alike  to  sedentary  or  settled  occupation  of 
any  kind.  The  refectioner  and  kitchener  were  so  well  pleased 
with  Halbert' s  prepossessing  appearance  that  they  seemed  to 
think  that  the  salary,  emoluments,  and  perquisites,  the  dole, 
the  grazing,  the  gown,  and  the  galligaskins  could  scarce  be 
better  bestowed  than  on  the  active  and  graceful  figure  before 
them. 

Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  whether  from  being  more  deeply  en- 


244 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


gaged  in.  his  own  cogitations  or  that  the  subject  was  unworthy 
of  his  notice,  did  not  seem  to  partake  of  the  general  feeling 
of  approbation  excited  by  the  young  man's  presence.  He  sate 
with  his  eyes  half-shut,  and  his  arms  folded,  appearing  to  be 
wrapped  in  contemplations  of  a  nature  deeper  than  those  aris- 
ing out  of  the  scene  before  him.  But,  notwithstanding  his 
seeming  abstraction  and  absence  of  mind,  there  was  a  flutter 
of  vanity  in  Sir  Piercie's  very  handsome  countenance,  an  oc- 
casional change  of  posture  from  one  striking  attitude  (or  what 
he  conceived  to  be  such)  to  another,  and  an  occasional  stolen 
glance  at  the  female  part  of  the  company,  to  spy  how  far  he 
succeeded  in  riveting  their  attention,  which  gave  a  marked 
advantage,  in  comparison,  to  the  less  regular  and  more  harsh 
features  of  Halbert  Glendinning,  with  their  composed,  manly, 
and  deliberate  expression  of  mental  fortitude. 

Of  the  females  belonging  to  the  family  of  Glendearg,  the 
miller's  daughter  alone  had  her  mind  sufficiently  at  leisure  to 
admire,  from  time  to  time,  the  graceful  attitudes  of  Sir  Piercie 
Shafton ;  for  both  Mary  Avenel  and  Dame  Glendinning  were 
waiting  in  anxiety  and  apprehension  the  answer  which  Hal- 
bert was  to  return  to  the  abbot's  proposal,  and  fearfully  antic- 
ipating the  consequences  of  his  probable  refusal.  The  con- 
duct of  his  brother  Edward,  for  a  lad  constitutionally  shy, 
respectful,  and  even  timid,  was  at  once  affectionate  and  noble. 
This  younger  son  of  Dame  Elspeth  had  stood  unnoticed  in  a 
corner,  after  the  abbot,  at  the  request  of  the  sub-prior,  had 
honoured  him  with  some  passing  notice,  and  asked  him  a  few 
commonplace  questions  about  his  progress  in  Donatus,  and  in 
the  TromiJtuarmm  Parvulorum,  without  waiting  for  the  an- 
swers. Prom  his  corner  he  now  glided  round  to  his  brother's 
side,  and  keeping  a  little  behind  him,  slid  his  right  hand 
into  the  huntsman's  left,  and  by  a  gentle  pressure,  which 
Halbert  instantly  and  ardently  returned,  expressed  at  once 
his  interest  in  his  situation  and  his  resolution  to  share  his 
fate. 

The  group  was  thus  arranged  when,  after  the  pause  of  two 
or  three  minutes,  which  he  employed  in  slowly  sipping  his 
cup  of  wine,  in  order  that  he  might  enter  on  his  proposal  with 


THE  MONASTERY. 


245 


due  and  deliberate  dignity,  the  abbot  at  length  expressed  him- 
self thus : 

u  My  son,  we,  your  lawful  superior,  and  the  abbot,  undei 
God's  favour,  of  the  community  of  St.  Mary's,  have  heard  of 
your  manifold  good  gifts — a-hem — especially  touching  wood- 
craft, and  the  huntsman-like  fashion  in  which  you  strike  your 
game,  truly  and  as  a  yeoman  should,  not  abusing  Heaven's 
good  benefits  by  spoiling  the  flesh,  as  is  too  often  seen  in 
careless  rangers — a-hem."  He  made  here  a  pause,  but  ob- 
serving that  Glendinning  only  replied  to  his  compliment  by 
a  bow,  he  proceeded :  "  My  son,  we  commend  your  modesty ; 
nevertheless,  we  will  that  thou  shouldst  speak  freely  to  us 
touching  that  which  we  have  premeditated  for  thine  advance- 
ment, meaning  to  confer  on  thee  the  office  of  bow-bearer  and 
ranger,  as  well  over  the  chases  and  forests  wherein  our  house 
hath  privilege  by  the  gifts  of  pious  kings  and  nobles,  whose 
souls  now  enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  bounties  to  the  church,  as 
to  those  which  belong  to  us  in  exclusive  right  of  property  and 
perpetuity.  Thy  knee,  my  son,  that  we  may,  with  our  own 
hand,  and  without  loss  of  time,  induct  thee  into  office." 

" Kneel  down,"  said  the  kitchener  on  the  one  side;  and 
"  Kneel  down, "  said  the  ref ectioner  on  the  other. 

But  Halbert  Glendinning  remained  standing. 

"  Were  it  to  show  gratitude  and  good-will  for  your  reverend 
lordship's  noble  offer,  I  could  not, "  he  said,  "  kneel  low  enough, 
or  remain  long  enough  kneeling.  But  I  may  not  kneel  to  take 
investiture  of  your  noble  gift,  my  lord  abbot,  being  a  man  de- 
termined to  seek  my  fortune  otherwise." 

"How  is  that,  sir?"  said  the  abbot,  knitting  his  brows; 
"do  I  hear  you  speak  aright?  and  do  you,  a  born  vassal  of 
the  halidome,  at  the  moment  when  I  am  destining  to  you  such 
a  noble  expression  of  my  good-will,  propose  exchanging  my 
service  for  that  of  any  other?" 

"My  lord,"  said  Halbert  Glendinning,  "  it  grieves  me  to 
think  you  hold  me  capable  of  undervaluing  your  gracious 
offer,  or  of  exchanging  your  service  for  another.  But  your 
noble  proffer  doth  but  hasten  the  execution  of  a  determination 
which  I  have  long  since  formed*" 


246 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"Ay,  my  son/'  said  the  abbot,  " is  ii  indeed  so?  right  early 
have  you  learned  to  form  resolutions  without  consulting  those 
on  whom  you  naturally  depend.  But  what  may  it  be,  this 
sagacious  resolution,  if  I  may  so  far  pray  you?" 

"To  yield  up  to  my  brother  and  mother,"  answered  Hal- 
bert,  "  mine  interest  in  the  fief  of  Glendearg,  lately  possessed 
by  my  father,  Simon  Glendinning;  and  having  prayed  your 
lordship  to  be  the  same  kind  and  generous  master  to  them 
that  your  predecessors,  the  venerable  abbots  of  St.  Mary's, 
have  been  to  my  fathers  in  time  past — for  myself,  I  am  deter- 
mined to  seek  my  fortune  where  I  may  best  find  it." 

Dame  Glendinning  here  ventured,  emboldened  by  maternal 
anxiety,  to  break  silence  with  an  exclamation  of  "  0  my  son!" 
Edward,  clinging  to  his  brother's  side,  half-spoke,  half-whis- 
pered a  similar  ejaculation  of  "Brother!  brother!" 

The  sub-prior  took  up  the  matter  in  a  tone  of  grave  repre- 
hension, which,  as  he  conceived,  the  interest  he  had  always 
taken  in  the  family  of  Glendearg  required  at  his  hand. 

"  Wilful  young  man, "  he  said,  "  what  folly  can  urge  thee  to 
push  back  the  hand  that  is  stretched  out  to  aid  thee?  What 
visionary  aim  hast  thou  before  thee,  that  can  compensate  for 
the  decent  and  sufficient  independence  which  thou  art  now  re- 
jecting with  scorn?" 

"  Four  marks  by  the  year,  duly  and  truly, "  said  the  kitch- 
ener. 

"Cow's  grass,  doublet,  and  galligaskins,"  responded  the 
refectioner. 

"Peace,  my  brethren,"  said  the  sub-prior;  "and  may  it 
please  your  lordship,  venerable  father,  upon  my  petition,  to 
allow  this  headstrong  youth  a  day  for  consideration,  and  it 
shall  be  my  part  so  to  indoctrinate  him  as  to  convince  him 
what  is  due  on  this  occasion  to  your  lordship,  and  to  his  fam- 
ily, and  to  himself. " 

"  Your  kindness,  reverend  father, "  said  the  youth,  "  craves 
my  dearest  thanks ;  it  is  the  continuance  of  a  long  train  of 
benevolence  towards  me,  for  which  I  give  you  my  gratitude, 
for  I  have  nothing  else  to  offer.  It  is  my  mishap,  not  your 
fault,  that  your  intentions  have  been  frustrated.    But  my 


THE  MONASTERY. 


247 


present  resolution  is  fixed  and  unalterable.  I  cannot  accept 
the  generous  offer  of  the  lord  abbot;  my  fate  calls  me  else- 
where, to  scenes  where  I  shall  end  it  or  mend  it." 

"  By  Our  Lady/'  said  the  abbot,  "  I  think  the  youth  be  mad 
indeed;  or  that  you,  Sir  Piercie,  judged  of  him  most  truly, 
when  you  prophesied  that  he  would  prove  unfit  for  the  pro- 
motion we  designed  him.  It  may  be  you  knew  something  of 
this  wayward  humour  before?" 

"  By  the  mass,  not  I, "  answered  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  with 
his  usual  indifference.  "I  but  judged  of  him  by  his  birth 
and  breeding;  for  seldom  doth  a  good  hawk  come  out  of  a 
kite's  egg." 

"  Thou  art  thyself  a  kite,  and  kestrel  to  boot, "  replied  Hal- 
bert  Glendinning,  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 

"This  in  our  presence,  and  to  a  man  of  worship!"  said  the 
abbot,  the  blood  rushing  to  his  face. 

•  "  Yes,  my  lord,"  answered  the  youth;  "even  in  your  pres- 
ence I  return  to  this  gay  man's  face  the  causeless  dishonour 
which  he  has  flung  on  my  name.  My  brave  father,  who  fell 
in  the  cause  of  his  country,  demands  that  justice  at  the  hands 
of  his  son!" 

"  Unmannered  boy!"  said  the  abbot. 

"  Nay,  my  good  lord, "  said  the  knight,  "  praying  pardon  for 
the  coarse  interruption,  let  me  entreat  you  not  to  be  wroth 
with  this  rustical.  Credit  me,  the  north  wind  shall  as  soon 
puff  one  of  your  rocks  from  its  basis,  as  aught  which  I  hold 
so  slight  and  inconsiderate  as  the  churlish  speech  of  an  un- 
taught churl  shall  move  the  spleen  of  Piercie  Shafton." 

"Proud  as  you  are,  sir  knight,"  said  Halbert,  "in  your 
imagined  superiority,  be  not  too  confident  that  you  cannot  be 
moved." 

"Faith,  by  nothing  that  thou  canst  urge,"  said  Sir  Piercie. 

"Knowest  thou  then  this  token?"  said  young  Glendinning, 
offering  to  him  the  silver  bodkin  which  he  had  received  from 
the  White  Lady. 

Never  was  such  an  instant  change,  from  the  most  contemp- 
tuous serenity  to  the  most  furious  state  of  passion,  as  that 
which  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  exhibited.    It  was  the  difference 


248 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


between  a  cannon  lying  quiet  in  its  embrasure  and  the  same 
gun  when  touched  by  the  linstock.  He  started  up,  every 
limb  quivering  with  rage,  and  his  features  so  inflamed  and 
agitated  by  passion  that  he  more  resembled  a  demoniac  than 
a  man  under  the  regulation  of  reason.  He  clenched  both  his 
fists,  and,  thrusting  them  forward,  offered  them  furiously  at 
the  face  of  Glendinning,  who  was  even  himself  startled  at  the 
frantic  state  of  excitation  which  his  action  had  occasioned. 
The  next  moment  he  withdrew  them,  struck  his  open  palm 
against  his  own  forehead,  and  rushed  out  of  the  room  in  a 
state  of  indescribable  agitation.  The  whole  matter  had  been 
so  sudden  that  no  person  present  had  time  to  interfere. 

When  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  had  left  the  apartment,  there  was 
a  moment's  pause  of  astonishment,  and  then  a  general  demand 
that  Halbert  Glendinning  should  instantly  explain  by  what 
means  he  had  produced  such  a  violent  change  in  the  deport- 
ment of  the  English  cavalier. 

"  I  did  nought  to  him,"  answered  Halbert  Glendinning,  "  but 
what  you  all  saw.  Am  I  to  answer  for  his  fantastic  freaks  of 
humour?" 

"Boy,"  said  the  abbot,  in  his  most  authoritative  manner, 
"  these  subterfuges  shall  not  avail  thee.  This  is  not  a  man 
to  be  driven  from  his  temperament  without  some  sufficient 
cause.  That  cause  was  given  by  thee,  and  must  have  been 
known  to  thee.  I  command  thee,  as  thou  wilt  save  thyself 
from  worse  measure,  to  explain  to  me  by  what  means  thou 
hast  moved  our  friend  thus.  We  choose  not  that  our  vassals 
shall  drive  our  guests  mad  in  our  very  presence,  and  we  re- 
main ignorant  of  the  means  whereby  that  purpose  is  effected. " 

"  So  may  it  please  your  reverence,  I  did  but  show  him  this 
token,"  said  Halbert  Glendinning,  delivering  it  at  the  same 
time  to  the  abbot,  who  looked  at  it  with  much  attention,  and 
then,  shaking  his  head,  gravely  delivered  it  to  the  sub-prior, 
without  speaking  a  word. 

Father  Eustace  looked  at  the  mysterious  token  with  some 
attention ;  and  then  addressing  Halbert  in  a  stern  and  severe 
voice,  said :  "  Young  man,  if  thou  wouldst  not  have  us  suspect 
thee  of  some  strange  double-dealing  in  this  matter,  let  us  in- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


249 


stantly  know  whence  thou  hadst  this  token,  and  how  it  pos- 
sesses an  influence  on  Sir  Piercie  Shafton?" 

It  would  have  been  extremely  difficult  for  Halbert,  thus 
hard  pressed,  to  have  either  evaded  or  answered  so  puzzling 
a  question.  To  have  avowed  the  truth  might,  in  those  times, 
have  occasioned  his  being  burnt  at  a  stake,  although  in  ours 
his  confession  would  have  only  gained  for  him  the  credit  of 
a  liar  beyond  all  rational  credibility.  He  was  fortunately  re- 
lieved by  the  return  of  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  himself,  whose  ear 
caught,  as  he  entered,  the  sound  of  the  sub-prior's  question. 

Without  waiting  until  Halbert  Glendinning  replied,  he  came 
forward,  whispering  to  him  as  he  passed:  "Be  secret;  thou 
shalt  have  the  satisfaction  thou  hast  dared  to  seek  for." 

When  he  returned  to  his  place,  there  were  still  marks  of 
discomposure  on  his  brow ;  but,  becoming  apparently  collected 
and  calm,  he  looked  around  him,  and  apologised  for  the  inde- 
corum of  which  he  had  been  guilty,  which  he  ascribed  to  sud- 
den and  severe  indisposition.  All  were  silent,  and  looked  on 
each  other  with  some  surprise. 

The  lord  abbot  gave  orders  for  all  to  retire  from  the  apart- 
ment, save  himself,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  and  the  sub-prior. 
"  And  have  an  eye, "  he  added,  "  on  that  bold  youth,  that  he 
escape  not ;  for  if  he  hath  practised  by  charm,  or  otherwise, 
on  the  health  of  our  worshipful  guest,  I  swear  by  the  alb  and 
mitre  which  I  wear  that  his  punishment  shall  be  most  exem- 
plary." 

"My  lord  and  venerable  father,"  said  Halbert,  bowing  re- 
spectfully, "  fear  not  but  that  I  will  abide  my  doom.  I  think 
you  will  best  learn  from  the  worshipful  knight  himself  what 
is  the  cause  of  his  distemperature,  and  how  slight  my  share 
in  it  has  been." 

"Be  assured,"  said  the  knight,  without  looking  up,  how- 
ever, while  he  spoke,  "  I  will  satisfy  the  lord  abbot. " 

With  these  words  the  company  retired,  and  with  them 
young  Glendinning. 

When  the  abbot,  the  sub-prior,  and  the  English  knight 
were  left  alone,  Father  Eustace,  contrary  to  his  custom,  could 
not  help  speaking  the  first.    "Expound  unto  us,  noble  sir," 


250 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


lie  said,  "  by  what  mysterious  means  the  production  of  this 
simple  toy  could  so  far  move  your  spirit,  and  overcome  your 
patience,  after  you  had  shown  yourself  proof  to  all  the  provo- 
cation offered  by  this  self-sufficient  and  singular  youth. " 

The  knight  took  the  silver  bodkin  from  the  good  father's 
hand,  looked  at  it  with  great  composure,  and  having  exam- 
ined it  all  over,  returned  it  to  the  sub-prior,  saying  at  the 
same  time :  "  In  truth,  venerable  father,  I  cannot  but  marvel 
that  the  wisdom  implied  alike  in  your  silver  hairs  and  in  your 
eminent  rank  should,  like  a  babbling  hound — excuse  the  simili- 
tude— open  thus  loudly  on  a  false  scent.  I  were,  indeed,  more 
slight  to  be  moved  than  the  leaves  of  the  aspen-tree,  which 
wag  at  the  least  breath  of  heaven,  could  I  be  touched  by  such 
a  trifle  as  this,  which  in  no  way  concerns  me  more  than  if  the 
same  quantity  of  silver  were  stricken  into  so  many  groats. 
Truth  is,  that  from  my  youth  upward  I  have  been  subjected 
to  such  a  malady  as  you  saw  me  visited  with  even  now — a 
cruel  and  searching  pain,  which  goeth  through  nerve  and 
bone,  even  as  a  good  brand  in  the  hands  of  a  brave  soldier 
sheers  through  limb  and  sinew ;  but  it  passes  away  speedily, 
as  you  yourselves  may  judge." 

"Still,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "this  will  not  account  for  the 
youth  offering  to  you  this  piece  of  silver,  as  a  token  by  which 
you  were  to  understand  something,  and,  as  we  must  needs 
conjecture,  something  disagreeable." 

"Your  reverence  is  to  conjecture  what  you  will,"  said  Sir 
Piercie;  "but  I  cannot  pretend  to  lay  your  judgment  on  the 
right  scent  when  I  see  it  at  fault.  I  hope  I  am  not  liable  to 
be  called  upon  to  account  for  the  foolish  actions  of  a  mala- 
pert boy?" 

"  Assuredly, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  we  shall  prosecute  no 
inquiry  which  is  disagreeable  to  our  guest.  Nevertheless," 
said  he,  looking  to  his  superior,  "  this  chance  may,  in  some 
sort,  alter  the  plan  your  lordship  had  formed  for  your  wor- 
shipful guest's  residence  for  a  brief  term  in  this  tower,  as  a 
place  alike  of  secrecy  and  of  security ;  both  of  which,  in  the 
terms  which  we  now  stand  on  with  England,  are  circum- 
stances to  be  desired." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


251 


"  In  truth,"  said  the  abbot,  "  and  the  doubt  is  well  thought 
on,  were  it  as  well  removed;  for  I  scarce  know  in  the  hali- 
dome  so  fitting  a  place  of  refuge,  yet  see  I  not  how  to  recom- 
mend it  to  our  worshipful  guest,  considering  the  unrestrained 
petulance  of  this  headstrong  youth."  x 

"Tush!  reverend  sirs,  what  would  you  make  of  me?"  said 
Sir  Piercie  Shafton.  "I  protest,  by  mine  honour,  I  would 
abide  in  this  house  were  I  to  choose.  What!  I  take  no  ex- 
ceptions at  the  youth  for  showing  a  flash  of  spirit,  though  the 
spark  may  light  on  mine  own  head.  I  honour  the  lad  for  it. 
I  protest  I  will  abide  here,  and  he  shall  aid  me  in  striking 
down  a  deer.  I  must  needs  be  friends  with  him,  an  he  be 
such  a  shot ;  and  we  will  speedily  send  down  to  my  lord  ab- 
bot a  buck  of  the  first  head,  killed  so  artificially  as  shall  sat- 
isfy even  the  reverend  kitchener." 

This  was  said  with  such  apparent  ease  and  good-humour 
that  the  abbot  made  no  farther  observation  on  what  had  passed, 
but  proceeded  to  acquaint  his  guest  with  the  details  of  furni- 
ture, hangings,  provisions,  and  so  forth  which  he  proposed  to 
send  up  to  the  Tower  of  Glendearg  for  his  accommodation. 
This  discourse,  seasoned  with  a  cup  or  two  of  wine,  served  to 
prolong  the  time  until  the  reverend  abbot  ordered  his  caval- 
cade to  prepare  for  their  return  to  the  monastery. 

"As  we  have,"  he  said,  "in  the  course  of  this  our  toilsome 
journey,  lost  our  meridian,  indulgence  shall  be  given  to  those 
of  our  attendants  who  shall,  from  very  weariness,  be  unable 
to  attend  the  duty  at  prime,  and  this  by  way  of  misericord 1 
or  indulgentia" 

Having  benevolently  intimated  a  boon  to  his  faithful  fol- 
lowers which  he  probably  judged  would  be  far  from  unaccept- 
able, the  good  abbot,  seeing  all  ready  for  his  journey,  bestowed 
his  blessing  on  the  assembled  household;  gave  his  hand  to  be 
kissed  by  Dame  Glendinning,  himself  kissed  the  cheek  of  Mary 
Avenel,  and  even  of  the  miller's  maiden,  when  they  approached 
to  render  him  the  same  homage ;  commanded  Halbert  to  rule 
his  temper,  and  to  be  aiding  and  obedient  in  all  things  to  the 
English  knight ;  admonished  Edward  to  be  discipulas  impiger 
i  See  Note  16. 


252 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


atque  strenuus;  then  took  a  courteous  farewell  of  Sir  Piercie 
Shafton,  advising  him  to  lie  close,  for  fear  of  the  English 
Borderers,  who  might  be  employed  to  kidnap  him ;  and  hav- 
ing discharged  these  various  offices  of  courtesy,  moved  forth 
to  the  courtyard,  followed  by  the  whole  establishment.  Here, 
with  a  heavy  sigh  approaching  to  a  groan,  the  venerable  fa- 
ther heaved  himself  upon  his  palfrey,  whose  dark  purple 
housings  swept  the  ground;  and,  greatly  comforted  that  the 
discretion  of  the  animal's  pace  would  be  no  longer  disturbed 
by  the  gambadoes  of  Sir  Piercie  and  his  prancing  war-horse, 
he  set  forth  at  a  sober  and  steady  trot  upon  his  return  to  the 
monastery. 

When  the  sub-prior  had  mounted  to  accompany  his  princi- 
pal, his  eye  sought  out  Halbert,  who,  partly  hidden  by  a  pro- 
jection of  the  outward  wall  of  the  court,  stood  apart  from,  and 
gazing  upon,  the  departing  cavalcade  and  the  group  which  as- 
sembled around  them.  Unsatisfied  with  the  explanation  he 
had  received  concerning  the  mysterious  transaction  of  the  sil- 
ver bodkin,  yet  interesting  himself  in  the  youth,  of  whose 
character  he  had  formed  a  favourable  idea,  the  worthy  monk 
resolved  to  take  an  early  opportunity  of  investigating  that 
matter.  In  the  mean  while,  he  looked  upon  Halbert  with  a 
serious  and  warning  aspect,  and  held  up  his  finger  to  him  as 
he  signed  farewell.  He  then  joined  the  rest  of  the  church- 
men, and  followed  his  superior  down  the  valley. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

I  hope  you'll  give  me  cause  to  think  you  noble, 
And  do  me  right  with  your  sword,  sir,  as  becomes 
One  gentleman  of  honour  to  another  ; 
All  this  is  fair,  sir — let  us  make  no  days  on't, 
I'll  lead  your  way. 

Love's  Pilgrimage. 

The  look  and  sign  of  warning  which  the  sub-prior  gave  to 
Halbert  Glendinning  as  they  parted  went  to  his  heart;  for, 
although  he  had  profited  much  less  than  Edward  by  the  good 


THE  MONASTERY. 


253 


man's  instructions,  he  had  a  sincere  reverence  for  his  person; 
and  even  the  short  time  he  had  for  deliberation  tended  to 
show  him  he  was  embarked  in  a  perilous  adventure.  The 
nature  of  the  provocation  which  he  had  given  to  Sir  Piercie 
Shafton  he  could  not  even  conjecture;  but  he  saw  that  it 
was  of  a  mortal  quality,  and  he  was  now  to  abide  the  con- 
sequences. 

That  he  might  not  force  these  consequences  forward  by  any 
premature  renewal  of  their  quarrel,  he  resolved  to  walk  apart 
for  an  hour,  and  consider  on  what  terms  he  was  to  meet  this 
haughty  foreigner.  The  time  seemed  propitious  for  his  doing 
so  without  having  the  appearance  of  wilfully  shunning  the 
stranger,  as  all  the  members  of  the  little  household  were  dis- 
persing, either  to  perform  such  tasks  as  had  been  interrupted 
by  the  arrival  of  the  dignitaries,  or  to  put  in  order  what  had 
been  deranged  by  their  visit. 

Leaving  the  tower,  therefore,  and  descending,  unobserved, 
as  he  thought,  the  knoll  on  which  it  stood,  Halbert  gained 
the  little  piece  of  level  ground  which  extended  betwixt  the 
descent  of  the  hill  and  the  first  sweep  made  by  the  brook  after 
washing  the  foot  of  the  eminence  on  which  the  tower  was  situ- 
ated, where  a  few  straggling  birch  and  oak  trees  served  to  se- 
cure him  from  observation.  But  scarcely  had  he  reached  the 
spot  when  he  was  surprised  to  feel  a  smart  tap  upon  the  shoul- 
der, and,  turning  around,  he  perceived  he  had  been  closely  fol- 
lowed by  Sir  Piercie  Shafton. 

When,  whether  from  our  state  of  animal  spirits,  want  of 
confidence  in  the  justice  of  our  cause,  or  any  other  motive, 
our  own  courage  happens  to  be  in  a  wavering  condition,  noth- 
ing tends  so  much  altogether  to  disconcert  us  as  a  great  ap- 
pearance of  promptitude  on  the  part  of  our  antagonist.  Hal- 
bert Glendinning,  both  morally  and  constitutionally  intrepid, 
was  nevertheless  somewhat  troubled  at  seeing  the  stranger, 
whose  resentment  he  had  provoked,  appear  at  once  before  him, 
and  with  an  aspect  which  boded  hostility.  But,  though  his 
heart  might  beat  somewhat  thicker,  he  was  too  high-spirited 
to  exhibit  any  external  signs  of  emotion.  "What  is  your 
pleasure,  Sir  Piercie?"  he  said  to  the  English  knight,  endur- 


254 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ing  without  apparent  discomposure  all  the  terrors  which  his 
antagonist  had  summoned  into  his  aspect. 

"What  is  my  pleasure?"  answered  Sir  Piercie;  "a  goodly 
question,  after  the  part  you  have  acted  towards  me.  Young 
men,  I  know  not  what  infatuation  has  led  thee  to  place  thy- 
self in  direct  and  insolent  opposition  to  one  who  is  a  guest  of 
thy  liege  lord  the  abbot,  and  who,  even  from  the  courtesy  due 
to  thy  mother's  roof,  had  a  right  to  remain  there  without  meet- 
ing insult.  Neither  do  I  ask,  or  care,  by  what  means  thou 
hast  become  possessed  of  the  fatal  secret  by  which  thou  hast 
dared  to  offer  me  open  shame.  But  I  must  now  tell  thee  that 
the  possession  of  it  hath  cost  thee  thy  life." 

"  Not,  I  trust,  if  my  hand  and  sword  can  defend  it."  replied 
Halbert,  boldly. 

"  True, "  said  the  Englishman ;  "  I  mean  not  to  deprive  thee 
of  thy  fair  chance  of  self-defence.  I  am  only  sorry  to  think 
that,  young  and  country -bred  as  thou  art,  it  can  but  little 
avail  thee.  But  thou  must  be  well  aware  that  in  this  quarrel 
I  shall  use  no  terms  of  quarter." 

"  Rely  on  it,  proud  man,"  answered  the  youth,  "  that  I  shall 
ask  none ;  and  although  thou  speakest  as  if  I  lay  already  at 
thy  feet,  trust  me  that,  as  I  am  determined  never  to  ask  thy 
mercy,  so  I  am  not  fearful  of  needing  it." 

"  Thou  wilt,  then, "  said  the  knight,  "  do  nothing  to  avert 
the  certain  fate  which  thou  hast  provoked  with  such  wanton- 
ness?" 

"And  how  were  that  to  be  purchased?"  replied  Halbert 
Glendinning,  more  with  the  wish  of  obtaining  some  farther 
insight  into  the  terms  on  which  he  stood  with  this  stranger 
than  to  make  him  the  submission  which  he  might  require. 

"  Explain  to  me  instantly, "  said  Sir  Piercie,  "  without  equiv- 
ocation or  delay,  by  what  means  thou  wert  enabled  to  wound 
my  honour  so  deeply ;  and  shouldst  thou  point  out  to  me  by  so 
doing  an  enemy  more  worthy  of  my  resentment,  I  will  permit 
thine  own  obscure  insignificance  to  draw  a  veil  over  thine 
insolence." 

"  This  is  too  high  a  flight,"  said  Glendinning,  fiercely,  "for 
thine  own  presumption  to  soar  without  being  checked.  Thou 


THE  MONASTERY. 


255 


hast  come  to  my  father's  house,  as  well  as  I  can  guess,  a  fu- 
gitive and  an  exile,  and  thy  first  greeting  to  its  inhabitants 
has  been  that  of  contempt  and  injury.  By  what  means  I  have 
been  able  to  retort  that  contempt,  let  thine  own  conscience  tell 
thee.  Enough  for  me  that  I  stand  on  the  privilege  of  a  free 
Scotchman,  and  will  brook  no  insult  unreturned  and  no  injury 
unrequited." 

"It  is  well,  then,"  said  Sir  Piercie  Shafton;  "we  will  dis- 
pute this  matter  to-morrow  morning  with  our  swords.  Let  the 
time  be  daybreak,  and  do  thou  assign  the  place.  We  will  go 
forth  as  if  to  strike  a  deer." 

"Content,"  replied  Halbert  Glendinning;  "I  will  guide 
thee  to  a  spot  where  an  hundred  men  might  fight  and  fall 
without  any  chance  of  interruption." 

"  It  is  well, "  answered  Sir  Piercie  Shafton.  "  Here  then  we 
part.  Many  will  say  that,  in  thus  indulging  the  right  of  a 
gentleman  to  the  son  of  a  clod-breaking  peasant,  I  derogate 
from  my  sphere,  even  as  the  blessed  sun  would  derogate 
should  he  condescend  to  compare  and  match  his  golden  beams 
with  the  twinkle  of  a  pale,  blinking,  expiring,  gross-fed  taper. 
But  no  consideration  of  rank  shall  prevent  my  avenging  the 
insult  thou  hast  offered  me.  We  bear  a  smooth  face,  observe 
me,  sir  villagio,  before  the  worshipful  inmates  of  yonder 
cabin,  and  to-morrow  we  try  conclusions  with  our  swords." 
So  saying,  he  turned  away  towards  the  tower. 

It  may  not  be  unworthy  of  notice,  that  in  the  last  speech 
only  had  Sir  Piercie  used  some  of  those  flowers  of  rhetoric 
which  characterised  the  usual  style  of  his  conversation.  Ap- 
parently, a  sense  of  wounded  honour,  and  the  deep  desire  of 
vindicating  his  injured  feelings,  had  proved  too  strong  for  the 
fantastic  affectation  of  his  acquired  habits.  Indeed,  such  is 
usually  the  influence  of  energy  of  mind,  when  called  forth  and 
exerted,  that  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  had  never  appeared  in  the 
eyes  of  his  youthful  antagonist  half  so  much  deserving  of  es- 
teem and  respect  as  in  this  brief  dialogue,  by  which  they  ex- 
changed mutual  defiance.  As  he  followed  him  slowly  to  the 
tower,  he  could  not  help  thinking  to  himself  that,  had  the 
English  knight  always  displayed  this  superior  tone  of  bearing 


256 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  feeling,  he  would  not  probably  have  felt  so  earnestly  dis- 
posed to  take  offence  at  his  hand.  Mortal  offence,  however, 
had  been  exchanged,  and  the  matter  was  to  be  put  to  mortal 
arbitrement. 

The  family  met  at  the  evening  meal,  when  Sir  Piercie  Shaf- 
ton  extended  the  benignity  of  his  countenance  and  the  graces 
of  his  conversation  far  more  generally  over  the  party  than  he 
had  hitherto  condescended  to  do.  The  greater  part  of  his  at- 
tention was,  of  course,  still  engrossed  by  his  divine  and  in- 
imitable Discretion,  as  he  chose  to  term  Mary  Avenel;  but, 
nevertheless,  there  were  inter jectional  flourishes  to  the  Maid 
of  the  Mill,  under  the  title  of  Comely  Damsel,  and  to  the 
dame,  under  that  of  Worthy  Matron.  Nay,  lest  he  should 
fail  to  excite  their  admiration  by  the  graces  of  his  rhetoric, 
he  generously,  and  without  solicitation,  added  those  of  his 
voice ;  and  after  regretting  bitterly  the  absence  of  his  viol-de- 
gamba,  he  regaled  them  with  a  song,  "  which,"  said  he,  "the 
inimitable  Astrophel,  whom  mortals  call  Philip  Sidney,  com- 
posed in  the  nonage  of  his  muse,  to  show  the  world  what  they 
are  to  expect  from  his  riper  years,  and  which  will  one  day  see 
the  light  in  that  not-to-be-paralleled  perfection  of  human  wit 
which  he  has  addressed  to  his  sister,  the  matchless  Parthe- 
nope,  whom  men  call  Countess  of  Pembroke;  a  work,"  he 
continued,  "  whereof  his  friendship  hath  permitted  me,  though 
unworthy,  to  be  an  occasional  partaker,  and  whereof  I  may 
well  say  that  the  deep  afflictive  tale  which  awakeneth  our 
sorrows  is  so  relieved  with  brilliant  similitudes,  dulcet  de- 
scriptions, pleasant  poems,  and  engaging  interludes  that 
they  seem  as  the  stars  of  the  firmament  beautifying  the 
dusky  robe  of  night.  And  though  I  wot  well  how  much 
the  lovely  and  quaint  language  will  suffer  by  my  widowed 
voice — widowed  in  that  it  is  no  longer  matched  by  my  be- 
loved viol-de-gamba — I  will  essay  to  give  you  a  taste  of  the 
ravishing  sweetness  of  the  poesy  of  the  un-to-be-imitated 
Astrophel." 

So  saying,  he  sung  without  mercy  or  remorse  about  five 
hundred  verses,  of  which  the  two  first  and  the  four  last  may 
suffice  for  a  specimen : 


THE  MONASTERY. 


257 


"  What  tongue  can  her  perfections  tell, 
On  whose  each  part  all  pens  may  dwell  ? 

Of  whose  high  praise  and  praiseful  bliss, 
Goodness  the  pen,  Heaven  paper  is ; 
The  ink  immortal  fame  doth  send, 
As  I  began  so  I  mast  end." 

As  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  always  sung  with  his  eyes  half- shut, 
it  was  not  until,  agreeably  to  the  promise  of  his  poetry,  he  had 
fairly  made  an  end  that,  looking  round,  he  discovered  that  the 
greater  part  of  his  audience  had,  in  the  mean  while,  yielded  to 
the  charms  of  repose.  Mary  Avenel,  indeed,  from  a  natural 
sense  of  politeness,  had  contrived  to  keep  awake  through  all 
the  prolixities  of  the  divine  Astrophel ;  but  Mysie  was  trans- 
ported in  dreams  back  to  the  dusty  atmosphere  of  her  father's 
mill ;  Edward  himself,  who  had  given  his  attention  for  some 
time,  had  at  length  fallen  fast  asleep;  and  the  good  dame's 
nose,  could  its  tones  have  been  put  under  regulation,  might 
have  supplied  the  bass  of  the  lamented  viol-de-gamba.  Hal- 
bert,  however,  who  had  no  temptation  to  give  way  to  the 
charms  of  slumber,  remained  awake,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  songster;  not  that  he  was  better  entertained  with  the 
words,  or  more  ravished  with  the  execution,  than  the  rest 
of  the  company,  but  rather  because  he  admired,  or  perhaps 
envied,  the  composure  which  could  thus  spend  the  evening  in 
interminable  madrigals,  when  the  next  morning  was  to  be  de- 
voted to  deadly  combat.  Yet  it  struck  his  natural  acuteness 
of  observation  that  the  eye  of  the  gallant  cavalier  did  now 
and  then,  furtively  as  it  were,  seek  a  glance  of  his  counte- 
nance, as  if  to  discover  how  he  was  taking  the  exhibition  of 
his  antagonist's  composure  and  serenity  of  mind. 

"  He  shall  read  nothing  in  my  countenance, "  thought  Hal- 
bert,  proudly,  "  that  can  make  him  think  my  indifference  less 
than  his  own." 

And  taking  from  the  shelf  a  bag  full  of  miscellaneous  mat- 
ters collected  for  the  purpose,  he  began  with  great  industry  to 
dress  hooks,  and  had  finished  half  a  dozen  of  flies  (we  are  en- 
abled, for  the  benefit  of  those  who  admire  the  antiquities 
of  the  gentle  art  of  angling,  to  state  that  they  were  brown 
17 


258 


WAVEKLEY  NOVELS. 


hackles)  by  the  time  that  Sir  Piercie  had  arrived  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  his  long-winded  strophes  of  the  divine  Astrophel.  So 
that  he  also  testified  a  magnanimous  contempt  of  that  which 
to-morrow  should  bring  forth. 

As  it  now  waxed  late,  the  family  of  Glendearg  separated  for 
the  evening ;  Sir  Piercie  first  saying  to  the  dame  that  "  Her 
son  Albert  " 

"  Halbert, "  said  Elspeth,  with  emphasis — "  Halbert ;  after 
his  goodsire,  Halbert  Brydone." 

"  Well,  then,  I  have  prayed  your  son,  Halbert,  that  we  may 
strive  to-morrow,  with  the  sun's  earliness,  to  wake  a  stag  from 
his  lair,  that  I  may  see  whether  he  be  as  prompt  at  that  sport 
as  fame  bespeaks  him." 

"  Alas !  sir, "  answered  Dame  Elspeth,  "  he  is  but  too  prompt, 
an  you  talk  of  promptitude,  at  anything  that  has  steel  at  one 
end  of  it  and  mischief  at  the  other.  But  he  is  at  your  honour- 
able disposal,  and  I  trust  you  will  teach  him  how  obedience 
is  due  to  our  venerable  father  and  lord,  the  abbot,  and  prevail 
with  him  to  take  the  bow-bearer's  place  in  fee;  for,  as  the  two 
worthy  monks  said,  it  will  be  a  great  help  to  a  widow  woman. " 

"  Trust  me,  good  dame,"  replied  Sir  Piercie,  "  it  is  my  pur- 
pose so  to  indoctrinate  him  touching  his  conduct  and  bearing 
towards  his  betters  that  he  shall  not  lightly  depart  from  the 
reverence  due  to  them.  We  meet,  then,  beneath  the  birch - 
trees  in  the  plain,"  he  said,  looking  to  Halbert,  "so  soon  as 
the  eye  of  day  hath  opened  its  lids."  Halbert  answered  with 
a  sign  of  acquiescence,  and  the  knight  proceeded :  "  And  now, 
having  wished  to  my  fairest  Discretion  those  pleasant  dreams 
which  wave  their  pinions  around  the  couch  of  sleeping  beauty, 
and  to  this  comely  damsel  the  bounties  of  Morpheus,  and  to  all 
others  the  common  good-night,  I  will  crave  you  leave  to  depart 
to  my  place  of  rest,  though  I  may  say  with  the  poet : 

Ah  rest ! — no  rest  but  change  of  place  and  posture  ; 
Ah  sleep  ! — no  sleep  but  worn-out  Nature's  swooning  ; 
Ah  bed  ! — no  bed  but  cushion  fill'd  with  stones : 
Rest,  sleep,  nor  bed  await  not  on  an  exile." 

With  a  delicate  obeisance  he  left  the  room,  evading  Dame 
Glendinning,  who  hastened  to  assure  him  he  would  find  his 


THE  MONASTERY. 


259 


accommodations  for  repose  much  more  agreeable  than  they 
had  been  the  night  before,  there  having  been  store  of  warm 
coverlets  and  a  soft  feather-bed  sent  up  from  the  abbey.  But 
the  good  knight  probably  thought  that  the  grace  and  effect 
of  his  exit  would  be  diminished  if  he  were  recalled  from  his 
heroics  to  discuss  such  sublunary  and  domestic  topics,  and 
therefore  hastened  away  without  waiting  to  hear  her  out. 

"  A  pleasant  gentleman, "  said  Dame  Glendinning ;  u  but  I 
will  warrant  him  an  humorous.  And  sings  a  sweet  song, 
though  it  is  somewhat  of  the  longest.  Well,  I  make  mine 
avow  he  is  goodly  company.  I  wonder  when  he  will  go 
away. " 

Having  thus  expressed  her  respect  for  her  guest,  not  with- 
out intimation  that  she  was  heartily  tired  of  his  company,  the 
good  dame  gave  the  signal  for  the  family  to  disperse,  and  laid 
her  injunctions  on  Halbert  to  attend  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  at 
daybreak,  as  he  required. 

When  stretched  on  his  pallet  by  his  brother's  side,  Halbert 
had  no  small  cause  to  envy  the  sound  sleep  which  instantly 
settled  on  the  eyes  of  Edward,  but  refused  him  any  share  of 
its  influence.  He  saw  now  too  well  what  the  Spirit  had  dark- 
ly indicated,  that,  in  granting  the  boon  which  he  had  asked  so 
unadvisedly,  she  had  contributed  more  to  his  harm  than  his 
good.  He  was  now  sensible,  too  late,  of  the  various  dangers 
and  inconveniences  with  which  his  dearest  friends  were  threat- 
ened, alike  by  his  discomfiture  or  his  success  in  the  approach- 
ing duel.  If  he  fell,  he  might  say  personally,  "  Good-night 
all."  But  it  was  not  the  less  certain  that  he  should  leave  a 
dreadful  legacy  of  distress  and  embarrassment  to  his  mother 
and  family — an  anticipation  which  by  no  means  tended  to 
render  the  front  of  death,  in  itself  a  grisly  object,  more  agree- 
able to  his  imagination.  The  vengeance  of  the  abbot,  his  con- 
science told  him,  was  sure  to  descend  on  his  mother  and  brother, 
or  could  only  be  averted  by  the  generosity  of  the  victor.  And 
Mary  Avenel — he  should  have  shown  himself,  if  he  succumbed 
in  the  present  combat,  as  inefficient  in  protecting  her  as  he  had 
been  unnecessarily  active  in  bringing  disaster  on  her,  and  on 
the  house  in  which  she  had  been  protected  from  infancy. 


260 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


And  to  this  view  of  the  case  were  to  be  added  all  those  embit- 
tered and  anxious  feelings  with  which  the  bravest  men,  even 
in  a  better  or  less  doubtful  quarrel,  regard  the  issue  of  a  du- 
bious conflict,  the  first  time  when  it  has  been  their  fate  to  en- 
gage in  an  affair  of  that  nature. 

But,  however  disconsolate  the  prospect  seemed  in  the  event 
of  his  being  conquered,  Halbert  could  expect  from  victory  lit- 
tle more  than  the  safety  of  his  own  life  and  the  gratification 
of  his  wounded  pride.  To  his  friends — to  his  mother  and 
brother — especially  to  Mary  Avenel — the  consequences  of  his 
triumph  would  be  more  certain  destruction  than  the  contin- 
gency of  his  defeat  and  death.  If  the  English  knight  sur- 
vived, he  might  in  courtesy  extend  his  protection  to  them; 
but  if  he  fell,  nothing  was  likely  to  screen  them  from  the  vin- 
dictive measures  which  the  abbot  and  convent  would  surely 
adopt  against  the  violation  of  the  peace  of  the  halidome,  and 
the  slaughter  of  a  protected  guest  by  one  of  their  own  vassals, 
within  whose  house  they  had  lodged  him  for  shelter.  These 
thoughts,  in  which  neither  view  of  the  case  augured  aught 
short  of  ruin  to  his  family,  and  that  ruin  entirely  brought 
on  by  his  own  rashness,  were  thorns  in  Halbert  Glendinning's 
pillow,  that  deprived  his  soul  of  peace  and  his  eyes  of  slumber. 

There  appeared  no  middle  course,  saving  one  which  was 
marked  by  degradation,  and  which,  even  if  he  stooped  to  it, 
was  by  no  means  free  of  danger.  He  might  indeed  confess  to 
the  English  knight  the  strange  circumstances  which  led  to  his 
presenting  him  with  that  token  which  the  White  Lady  (in  her 
displeasure,  as  it  now  seemed)  had  given  him,  that  he  might 
offer  it  to  Sir  Piercie  Shafton.  But  to  this  avowal  his  pride 
could  not  stoop,  and  reason,  who  is  wonderfully  ready  to  be 
of  counsel  with  pride  on  such  occasions,  offered  many  argu- 
ments to  show  it  would  be  useless  as  well  as  mean  so  far  to 
degrade  himself.  "  If  I  tell  a  tale  so  wonderful, "  thought  he, 
"  shall  I  not  either  be  stigmatised  as  a  liar  or  punished  as  a 
wizard?  Were  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  generous,  noble,  and  benev- 
olent, as  the  champions  of  whom  we  hear  in  romance,  I  might 
indeed  gain  his  ear,  and,  without  demeaning  myself,  escape 
from  the  situation  in  which  I  am  placed.    But  as  he  is,  or  at 


THE  MONASTERY. 


261 


least  seems  to  be,  self-conceited,  arrogant,  vain,  and  pre- 
sumptuous, I  should  but  humble  myself  in  vain ;  and  I  will 
not  humble  myself!"  he  said,  starting  out  of  bed,  grasping  to 
his  broadsword,  and  brandishing  it  in  the  light  of  the  moon, 
which  streamed  through  the  deep  niche  that  served  them  as  a 
window;  when,  to  his  extreme  surprise  and  terror,  an  airy 
form  stood  in  the  moonlight,  but  intercepted  not  the  reflection 
on  the  floor.  Dimly  as  it  was  expressed,  the  sound  of  the 
voice  soon  made  him  sensible  he  saw  the  White  Lady. 

At  no  time  had  her  presence  seemed  so  terrific  to  him ;  for 
when  he  had  invoked  her,  it  was  with  the  expectation  of  the 
apparition,  and  the  determination  to  abide  the  issue.  But 
now  she  had  come  uncalled,  and  her  presence  impressed  him 
with  a  sense  of  approaching  misfortune,  and  with  the  hideous 
apprehension  that  he  had  associated  himself  with  a  demon, 
over  whose  motions  he  had  no  control,  and  of  whose  powers 
and  quality  he  had  no  certain  knowledge.  He  remained, 
therefore,  in  mere  terror,  gazing  on  the  apparition,  which 
chanted  or  recited  in  cadence  the  following  lines : 

14  He  whose  heart  for  vengeance  sued, 
Must  not  shrink  from  shedding  hlood  ; 
The  knot  that  thou  hast  tied  with  word, 
Thou  must  loose  by  edge  of  sword." 

"  Avaunt thee,  false  Spirit!"  said  Halbert  Glendinning;  "I 
have  bought  thy  advice  too  dearly  already.  Begone,  in  the 
name  of  God!" 

The  Spirit  laughed;  and  the  cold,  unnatural  sound  of  her 
laughter  had  something  in  it  more  fearful  than  the  usual  mel- 
ancholy tones  of  her  voice.    She  then  replied : 

14  You  have  summon' d  me  once — you  have  summon' d  me  twice, 
And  without  e'er  a  summons  I  come  to  you  thrice  ; 
Unask'd  for,  unsued  for,  you  came  to  my  glen  ; 
Unsued  and  unask'd,  I  am  with  you  again." 

Halbert  Glendinning  gave  way  for  a  moment  to  terror,  and 
called  on  his  brother;  "Edward!  waken — waken,  for  Our 
Lady's  sake!" 

Edward  awaked  accordingly,  and  asked  what  he  wanted. 


262 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Look  out, 99  said  Halbert — "  look  up !  seest  thou  no  one  in 
the  room?" 

"No,  upon  my  good  word/'  said  Edward,  looking  out. 
"  What !  seest  thou  nothing  in  the  moonshine  upon  the  floor 
there?" 

"No,  nothing,"  answered  Edward,  "save  thyself,  resting 
on  thy  naked  sword.  I  tell  thee,  Halbert,  thou  shouldst 
trust  more  to  thy  spiritual  arms,  and  less  to  those  of  steel  and 
iron.  For  this  many  a  night  hast  thou  started  and  moaned, 
and  cried  out  of  righting,  and  of  spectres,  and  of  goblins :  thy 
sleep  hath  not  refreshed  thee,  thy  waking  hath  been  a  dream. 
Credit  me,  dear  Halbert,  say  the  pater  and  credo,  resign  thy- 
self to  the  protection  of  God,  and  thou  wilt  sleep  sound  and 
wake  in  comfort." 

"  It  may  be, 99  said  Halbert,  slowly,  and  having  his  eye  still 
bent  on  the  female  form  which  to  him  seemed  distinctly  visi- 
ble— "it  may  be.  But  tell  me,  dear  Edward,  seest  thou  no 
one  on  the  chamber  floor  but  me?" 

"No  one,"  answered  Edward,  raising  himself  on  his  elbow; 
"dear  brother,  lay  aside  thy  weapon,  say  thy  prayers,  and 
lay  thee  down  to  rest." 

While  he  thus  spoke,  the  Spirit  smiled  at  Halbert  as  if  in 
scorn ;  her  wan  cheek  faded  in  the  wan  moonlight  even  before 
the  smile  had  passed  away,  and  Halbert  himself  no  longer 
beheld  the  vision  to  which  he  had  so  anxiously  solicited  his 
brother's  attention.  "May  God  preserve  my  wits!"  he  said, 
as,  laying  aside  his  weapon,  he  again  threw  himself  on  his  bed. 

"  Amen !  my  dearest  brother, "  answered  Edward ;  "  but  we 
must  not  provoke  that  Heaven  in  our  wantonness  which  we 
invoke  in  our  misery.  Be  not  angry  with  me,  my  dear  broth- 
er :  I  know  not  why  you  have  totally  of  late  estranged  yourself 
from  me.  It  is  true,  I  am  neither  so  athletic  in  body  nor  so 
alert  in  courage  as  you  have  been  from  your  infancy ;  yet,  till 
lately,  you  have  not  absolutely  cast  off  my  society.  Believe 
me,  I  have  wept  in  secret,  though  I  forbore  to  intrude  myself 
on  your  privacy.  The  time  has  been  when  you  held  me  not 
so  cheap ;  and  when,  if  I  could  not  follow  the  game  so  closely, 
or  mark  it  so  truly,  as  you,  I  could  fill  up  our  intervals  of  pas- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


263 


time  with  pleasant  tales  of  the  olden  times,  which  I  had  read 
or  heard,  and  which  excited  even  your  attention  as  we  sate 
and  ate  our  provision  by  some  pleasant  spring;  but  now,  I 
have,  though  I  know  not  why,  lost  thy  regard  and  affection. 
Nay,  toss  not  thy  arms  about  thee  thus  wildly,"  said  the 
younger  brother;  "from  thy  strange  dreams,  I  fear  some 
touch  of  fever  hath  affected  thy  blood;  let  me  draw  closer 
around  thee  thy  mantle. 99 

"Forbear,"  said  Halbert;  "your  care  is  needless — your 
complaints  are  without  reason — your  fears  on  my  account  are 
in  vain." 

"  Nay,  but  hear  me,  brother,"  said  Edward.  "  Your  speech 
in  sleep,  and  now  even  your  waking  dreams,  are  of  beings 
which  belong  not  to  this  world,  or  to  our  race.  Our  good 
Father  Eustace  says  that,  howbeit  we  may  not  do  well  to  re- 
ceive all  idle  tales  of  goblins  and  spectres,  yet  there  is  war- 
rant from  Holy  Scripture  to  believe  that  the  fiends  haunt 
waste  and  solitary  places ;  and  that  those  who  frequent  such 
wildernesses  alone  are  the  prey,  or  the  sport,  of  these  wander- 
ing demons.  And  therefore  I  pray  thee,  brother,  let  me  go 
with  you  when  you  go  next  up  the  glen,  where,  as  you  well 
know,  there  be  places  of  evil  reputation.  Thou  car  est  not  for 
my  escort;  but,  Halbert,  such  dangers  are  more  safely  en- 
countered by  the  wise  in  judgment  than  by  the  bold  in  bosom; 
and  though  I  have  small  cause  to  boast  of  my  own  wisdom,  yet 
I  have  that  which  ariseth  from  the  written  knowledge  of  elder 
times." 

There  was  a  moment  during  this  discourse  when  Halbert 
had  wellnigh  come  to  the  resolution  of  disburdening  his  own 
breast  by  entrusting  Edward  with  all  that  weighed  upon  it. 
But  when  his  brother  reminded  him  that  this  was  the  morning 
of  a  high  holiday,  and  that,  setting  aside  all  other  business 
or  pleasure,  he  ought  to  go  to  the  monastery  and  shrive  him- 
self before  Father  Eustace,  who  would  that  day  occupy  the 
confessional,  pride  stepped  in  and  confirmed  his  wavering 
resolution.  "  I  will  not  avow, 99  he  thought,  "  a  tale  so  extra- 
ordinary, that  I  may  be  considered  as  an  impostor  or  some- 
thing worse :  I  will  not  fly  from  this  Englishman,  whose  arm 


264 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  sword  may  be  no  better  than  my  own.  My  fathers  have 
faced  his  betters,  were  he  as  much  distinguished  in  battle  as 
he  is  by  his  quaint  discourse." 

Pride,  which  has  been  said  to  save  man,  and  woman  too, 
from  falling,  has  yet  a  stronger  influence  on  the  mind  when  it 
embraces  the  cause  of  passion,  and  seldom  fails  to  render  it 
victorious  over  conscience  and  reason.  Halbert  once  deter- 
mined, though  not  to  the  better  course,  at  length  slept  sound- 
ly, and  was  only  awakened  by  the  dawn  of  day. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Indifferent,  but  indifferent — pshaw,  he  doth  it  not 
Like  one  who  is  his  craft's  master — ne'ertheless 
I  have  seen  a  clown  confer  a  bloody  coxcomb 
On  one  who  was  a  master  of  defence. 

Old  Play. 

With  the  first  grey  peep  of  dawn,  Halbert  Glendinning 
arose  and  hastened  to  dress  himself,  girded  on  his  weapon, 
and  took  a  cross-bow  in  his  hand,  as  if  his  usual  sport  had 
been  his  sole  object.  He  groped  his  way  down  the  dark  and 
winding  staircase,  and  undid  with  as  little  noise  as  possible 
the  fastenings  of  the  inner  door,  and  of  the  exterior  iron  grate. 
At  length  he  stood  free  in  the  courtyard,  and  looking  up  to  the 
tower,  saw  a  signal  made  with  a  handkerchief  from  the  win- 
dow. Nothing  doubting  that  it  was  his  antagonist,  he  paused 
expecting  him.  But  it  was  Mary  Avenel,  who  glided  like  a 
spirit  from  under  the  low  and  rugged  portal. 

Halbert  was  much  surprised,  and  felt,  he  knew  not  why, 
like  one  caught  in  the  act  of  a  meditated  trespass.  The  pres- 
ence of  Mary  Avenel  had  till  that  moment  never  given  him 
pain.  She  spoke,  too,  in  a  tone  where  sorrow  seemed  to  min- 
gle with  reproach,  while  she  asked  him  with  emphasis :  "  What 
he  was  about  to  do?" 

He  showed  his  cross-bow  and  was  about  to  express  the  pre- 
text he  had  meditated,  when  Mary  interrupted  him. 

"  Not  so,  Halbert ;  that  evasion  were  unworthy  of  one  whose 


THE  MONASTERY. 


265 


word  has  hitherto  been  truth.  You  meditate  not  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  deer :  your  hand  and  your  heart  are  aimed  at  other 
game — you  seek  to  do  battle  with  this  stranger." 

"  And  wherefore  should  I  quarrel  with  our  guest?"  answered 
Halbert,  blushing  deeply. 

"  There  are,  indeed,  many  reasons  why  you  should  not/' 
replied  the  maiden,  "  nor  is  there  one  of  avail  wherefore  you 
should ;  yet,  nevertheless,  such  a  quarrel  you  are  now  search- 
ing after." 

"Why  should  you  suppose  so,  Mary?"  said  Halbert,  en- 
deavouring to  hide  his  conscious  purpose;  "he  is  my  mother's 
guest ;  he  is  protected  by  the  abbot  and  the  community,  who 
are  our  masters;  he  is  of  high  degree  also;  and  wherefore 
should  you  think  that  I  can,  or  dare,  resent  a  hasty  word, 
which  he  has  perchance  thrown  out  against  me  more  from  the 
wantonness  of  his  wit  than  the  purpose  of  his  heart?" 

"Alas!"  answered  the  maiden,  "the  very  asking  that  ques- 
tion puts  your  resolution  beyond  a  doubt.  Since  your  child- 
hood you  were  ever  daring,  seeking  danger  rather  than  avoid- 
ing it,  delighting  in  whatever  had  the  air  of  adventure  and  of 
courage ;  and  it  is  not  from  fear  that  you  will  now  blench  from 
your  purpose.  O  let  it  then  be  from  pity ! — from  pity,  Hal- 
bert, to  your  agea  mother,  whom  your  death  or  victory  will 
alike  deprive  of  the  comfort  and  stay  of  her  age." 

"  She  has  my  brother  Edward, "  said  Halbert,  turning  sud- 
denly from  her. 

"  She  has  indeed, "  said  Mary  Avenel,  "  the  calm,  the  noble- 
minded,  the  considerate  Edward,  who  has  thy  courage,  Hal- 
bert, without  thy  fiery  rashness,  thy  generous  spirit,  with  more 
of  reason  to  guide  it.  He  would  not  have  heard  his  mother, 
would  not  have  heard  his  adopted  sister,  beseech  him  in  vain 
not  to  ruin  himself,  and  tear  up  their  future  hopes  of  happiness 
and  protection." 

Halbert's  heart  swelled  as  he  replied  to  this  reproach: 
"Well — what  avails  it  speaking?  You  have  him  that  is 
better  than  me,  wiser,  more  considerate,  braver  for  aught  that 
T  know :  you  are  provided  with  a  protector,  and  need  care  no 
more  for  me." 


266 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Again  he  turned  to  depart,  but  Mary  Avenel  laid  her  hand 
on  his  arm  so  gently  that  he  scarce  felt  her  hold,  yet  felt  that 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  strike  it  off.  There  he  stood, 
one  foot  advanced  to  leave  the  courtyard,  but  so  little  deter- 
mined on  departure  that  he  resembled  a  traveller  arrested  by 
the  spell  of  a  magician,  and  unable  either  to  quit  the  attitude 
of  motion  or  to  proceed  on  his  course. 

Mary  Avenel  availed  herself  of  his  state  of  suspense. 
"Hear  me,"  she  said — "hear  me,  Halbert!  I  am  an  orphan, 
and  even  Heaven  hears  the  orphan.  I  have  been  the  com- 
panion of  your  infancy,  and  if  you  will  not  hear  me  for  an 
instant,  from  whom  may  Mary  Avenel  claim  so  poor  a 
boon?" 

"  I  hear  you,"  said  Halbert  Glendinning,  "  but  be  brief,  dear 
Mary;  you  mistake  the  nature  of  my  business;  it  is  but  a 
morning  of  summer  sport  which  we  propose. n 

"  Say  not  thus, 99  said  the  maiden,  interrupting  him — "  say 
not  thus  to  me;  others  thou  mayst  deceive,  but  me  thou  canst 
not.  There  has  been  that  in  me  from  the  earliest  youth  which 
fraud  flies  from,  and  which  imposture  cannot  deceive.  For 
what  fate  has  given  me  such  a  power  I  know  not ;  but,  bred 
an  ignorant  maiden  in  this  sequestered  valley,  mine  eyes  can 
too  often  see  what  man  would  most  willingly  hide.  I  can 
judge  of  the  dark  purpose,  though  it  is  hid  under  the  smiling 
brow,  and  a  glance  of  the  eye  says  more  to  me  than  oaths  and 
protestations  do  to  others." 

"Then,"  said  Halbert,  "if  thou  canst  so  read  the  human 
heart,  say,  dear  Mary,  what  dost  thou  see  in  mine?  tell  me 
that — say  that  what  thou  seest — what  thou  readest  in  this 
bosom,  does  not  offend  thee — say  but  that,  and  thou  shalt  be 
the  guide  of  my  actions,  and  mould  me  now  and  henceforward 
to  honour  or  to  dishonour  at  thy  own  free  will!" 

Mary  Avenel  became  first  red  and  then  deadly  pale  as  Hal- 
bert Glendinning  spoke.  But  when,  turning  round  at  the  close 
of  his  address,  he  took  her  hand,  she  gently  withdrew  it,  and 
replied :  "  I  cannot  read  the  heart,  Halbert,  and  I  would  not 
of  my  will  know  aught  of  yours,  save  what  beseems  us  both ; 
I  only  can  judge  of  signs,  words,  and  actions  of  little  outward 


THE  MONASTERY. 


267 


import  more  truly  than  those  around  me,  as  my  eyes,  thou 
knowest,  have  seen  objects  not  presented  to  those  of  others." 

aLet  them  gaze  then  on  one  whom  they  shall  never  see 
more, "  said  Halbert,  once  more  turning  from  her,  and  rushing 
out  of  the  courtyard  without  again  looking  back. 

Mary  Avenel  gave  a  faint  scream,  and  clasped  both  her 
hands  firmly  on  her  forehead  and  eyes.  She  had  been  a 
minute  in  this  attitude  when  she  was  thus  greeted  by  a  voice 
from  behind :  "  Generously  done,  my  most  clement  Discretion, 
to  hide  those  brilliant  eyes  from  the  far  inferior  beams  which 
even  now  begin  to  gild  the  eastern  horizon.  Certes,  peril 
there  were  that  Phoebus,  outshone  in  splendour,  might  in  very 
shamefacedness  turn  back  his  car,  and  rather  leave  the  world 
in  darkness  than  incur  the  disgrace  of  such  an  encounter. 
Credit  me,  lovely  Discretion  " 

But  as  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  (the  reader  will  readily  set  down 
these  flowers  of  eloquence  to  the  proper  owner)  attempted  to 
take  Mary  AvenePs  hand,  in  order  to  proceed  in  his  speech, 
she  shook  him  abruptly  off,  and  regarding  him  with  an  eye 
which  evinced  terror  and  agitation,  rushed  past  him  into  the 
tower. 

The  knight  stood  looking  after  her  with  a  countenance 
in  which  contempt  was  strongly  mingled  with  mortification. 
" By  my  knighthood!"  he  ejaculated,  "I  have  thrown  away 
upon  this  rude  rustic  Phidele  a  speech  which  the  proudest 
beauty  at  the  court  of  Felicia — so  let  me  call  the  Elysium 
from  which  I  am  banished — might  have  termed  the  very 
matins  of  Cupid.  Hard  and  inexorable  was  the  fate  that 
sent  thee  thither,  Piercie  Shafton,  to  waste  thy  wit  upon 
country  wenches  and  thy  valour  upon  hobnailed  clowns! 
But  that  insult — that  affront — had  it  been  offered  to  me  by 
the  lowest  plebeian,  he  must  have  died  for  it  by  my  hand,  in 
respect  the  enormity  of  the  offence  doth  countervail  the  in- 
equality of  him  by  whom  it  was  given.  I  trust  I  shall  find 
this  clownish  roisterer  not  less  willing  to  deal  in  blows  than 
in  taunts." 

While  he  held  this  conversation  with  himself,  Sir  Piercie 
Shafton  was  hastening  to  the  little  tuft  of  birch-trees  which 


268 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


had  been  assigned  as  the  place  of  meeting.  He  greeted  his 
antagonist  with  a  courtly  salutation,  followed  by  this  com- 
mentary :  "  I  pray  you  to  observe  that  I  doff  my  hat  to  you, 
though  so  much  my  inferior  in  rank,  without  derogation  on 
my  part,  inasmuch  as  my  having  so  far  honoured  you  in  re- 
ceiving and  admitting  your  defiance  doth,  in  the  judgment  of 
the  best  martialists,  in  some  sort,  and  for  the  time,  raise  you 
to  i  level  with  me — an  honour  which  you  may  and  ought  to 
account  cheaply  purchased  even  with  the  loss  of  your  life,  if 
such  should  chance  to  be  the  issue  of  this  duello. " 

"For  which  condescension,"  said  Halbert,  "I  have  to  thank 
the  token  which  I  presented  to  you." 

The  knight  changed  colour,  and  grinded  his  teeth  with  rage. 
"Draw  your  weapon!"  said  he  to  Glendinning. 

"Not  in  this  spot,"  answered  the  youth;  "we  should  be 
liable  to  interruption.  Follow  me,  and  I  will  bring  you  to 
a  place  where  we  shall  encounter  no  such  risk." 

He  proceeded  to  walk  up  the  glen,  resolving  that  their 
place  of  combat  should  be  in  the  entrance  of  the  Corrie-nan- 
Shian;  both  because  the  spot,  lying  under  the  reputation  of 
being  haunted,  was  very  little  frequented,  and  also  because 
he  regarded  it  as  a  place  which  to  him  might  be  termed  fated, 
and  which  he  therefore  resolved  should  witness  his  death  or 
victory. 

They  walked  up  the  glen  for  some  time  in  silence,  like  hon- 
ourable enemies  who  did  not  wish  to  contend  with  words,  and 
who  had  nothing  friendly  to  exchange  with  each  other.  Si- 
lence, however,  was  always  an  irksome  state  with  Sir  Piercie, 
and,  moreover,  his  anger  was  usually  a  hasty  and  short-lived 
passion.  As,  therefore,  he  went  forth,  in  his  own  idea,  in 
all  love  and  honour  towards  his  antagonist,  he  saw  not  any 
cause  for  submitting  longer  to  the  painful  restraint  of  positive 
silence.  He  began  by  complimenting  Halbert  on  the  alert 
activity  with  which  he  surmounted  the  obstacles  and  impedi- 
ments of  the  way. 

"  Trust  me, "  said  he,  "  worthy  rustic,  we  have  not  a  lighter 
or  a  firmer  step  in  our  courtlike  revels,  and  if  duly  set  forth 
by  a  silk  hose,  and  trained  unto  that  stately  exercise,  your 


THE  MONASTERY. 


269 


leg  would  make  an  indifferent  good  show  in  a  pavin  or  a 
galliard.  And  I  doubt  nothing/' he  added,  "that  you  have 
availed  yourself  of  some  opportunity  to  improve  yourself  in 
the  art  of  fence,  which  is  more  akin  than  dancing  to  our 
present  purpose?" 

"I  know  nothing  more  of  fencing,"  said  Halbert,  "than 
hath  been  taught  me  by  an  old  shepherd  of  ours  called  Mar- 
tin, and  at  whiles  a  lesson  from  Christie  of  the  Clin  thill ;  for 
the  rest,  I  must  trust  to  good  sword,  strong  arm,  and  sound 
heart." 

"  Marry  and  T  am  glad  of  it,  young  Audacity — I  will  call 
you  my  Audacity,  and  you  may  call  me  your  Condescension, 
while  we  are  on  these  terms  of  unnatural  equality — I  am  glad 
of  your  ignorance  with  all  my  heart.  For  we  martialists  pro- 
portion the  punishments  which  we  inflict  upon  our  opposites 
to  the  length  and  hazard  of  the  efforts  wherewith  they  oppose 
themselves  to  us.  And  I  see  not  why  you,  being  but  a  tyro, 
may  not  be  held  sufficiently  punished  for  your  outrecuidance 
and  orgillous  presumption  by  the  loss  of  an  ear,  an  eye,  or 
even  of  a  finger,  accompanied  by  some  flesh-wound  of  depth 
and  severity,  suited  to  your  error ;  whereas,  had  you  been  able 
to  stand  more  effectually  on  your  defence,  I  see  not  how  less 
than  your  life  could  have  atoned  sufficiently  for  your  pre- 
sumption. " 

"  Now,  by  God  and  Our  Lady, "  said  Halbert,  unable  any 
longer  to  restrain  himself,  "  thou  art  thyself  over-presumptu- 
ous, who  speakest  thus  daringly  of  the  issue  of  a  combat  which 
is  not  yet  even  begun.  Are  you  a  god,  that  you  already  dispose 
of  my  life  and  limbs?  or  are  you  a  judge  in  the  justice  chair, 
telling,  at  your  ease  and  without  risk,  how  the  head  and 
quarters  of  a  condemned  criminal  are  to  be  disposed  of?" 

"  Not  so,  0  thou  whom  I  have  well  permitted  to  call  thyself 
my  Audacity !  I,  thy  Condescension,  am  neither  a  god  to  judge 
the  issue  of  the  combat  before  it  is  fought,  nor  a  judge  to  dis- 
pose at  my  ease  and  in  safety  of  the  limbs  and  head  of  a  con- 
demned criminal ;  but  I  am  an  indifferent  good  master  of  fence, 
being  the  first  pupil  of  the  first  master  of  the  first  school  of 
fence  that  our  royal  England  affords,  the  said  master  being 


270 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


no  other  than  the  truly  noble  and  all-unutterably-skilful  Vin 
centio  Saviola,  from  whom  I  learned  the  firm  step,  quick  eye, 
and  nimble  hand — of  which  qualities  thou,  0  my  most  rusti- 
cal Audacity,  art  full  like  to  reap  the  fruits,  so  soon  as  we 
shall  find  a  piece  of  ground  fitting  for  such  experiments." 

They  had  now  reached  the  gorge  of  the  ravine  where  Hal- 
bert  had  at  first  intended  to  stop ;  but  when  he  observed  the 
narrowness  of  the  level  ground,  he  began  to  consider  that  it 
was  only  by  superior  agility  that  he  could  expect  to  make  up 
his  deficiency  in  the  science,  as  it  was  called,  of  defence.  He 
found  no  spot  which  afforded  sufficient  room  to  traverse  for 
this  purpose,  until  he  gained  the  well-known  fountain,  by 
whose  margin,  and  in  front  of  the  huge  rock  from  which  it 
sprung,  was  an  amphitheatre  of  level  turf,  of  small  space  in- 
deed, compared  with  the  great  height  of  the  cliffs  with  which 
it  was  surrounded  on  every  point  save  that  from  which  the 
rivulet  issued  forth,  yet  large  enough  for  their  present  pur- 
pose. 

When  they  had  reached  this  spot  of  ground,  fitted  well  by 
its  gloom  and  sequestered  situation  to  be  a  scene  of  mortal 
strife,  both  were  surprised  to  observe  that  a  grave  was  dug 
close  by  the  foot  of  the  rock  with  great  neatness  and  regular- 
ity, the  green  turf  being  laid  down  upon  the  one  side,  and  the 
earth  thrown  out  in  a  heap  upon  the  other.  A  mattock  and 
shovel  lay  by  the  verge  of  the  grave. 

Sir  Piercie  Shafton  bent  his  eye  with  unusual  seriousness 
upon  Halbert  Glendinning,  as  he  asked  him  sternly :  "  Does 
this  bode  treason,  young  man?  And  have  you  purpose  to 
set  upon  me  here  as  in  an  emboscata  or  place  of  vantage?" 

"Not  on  my  part,  by  Heaven!"  answered  the  youth.  "I 
told  no  one  of  our  purpose,  nor  would  I  for  the  throne  of 
Scotland  take  odds  against  a  single  arm." 

"I  believe  thou  wouldst  not,  mine  Audacity,"  said  the 
knight,  resuming  the  affected  manner  which  was  become  a 
second  nature  to  him ;  "  nevertheless,  this  fosse  is  curiously 
well  shaped,  and  might  be  the  masterpiece  of  nature's  last 
bed-maker — I  would  say  the  sexton.  Wherefore,  let  us  be 
thankful  to  chance,  or  some  unknown  friend,  who  hath  thus 


THE  MONASTERY. 


271 


provided  for  one  of  us  the  decencies  of  sepulture,  and  let  us 
proceed  to  determine  which  shall  have  the  advantage  of  enjoy- 
ing this  place  of  undisturbed  slumber." 

So  saying,  he  stripped  off  his  doublet  and  cloak,  which  he 
folded  up  with  great  care  and  deposited  upon  a  large  stone, 
while  Halbert  Glendinning,  not  without  some  emotion,  fol- 
lowed his  example.  Their  vicinity  to  the  favourite  haunt  of 
the  White  Lady  led  him  to  form  conjectures  concerning  the 
incident  of  the  grave.  "It  must  have  been  her  work!"  he 
thought :  "  the  Spirit  foresaw  and  has  provided  for  the  fatal 
event  of  the  combat.  I  must  return  from  this  place  a  homi- 
cide, or  I  must  remain  here  for  ever!" 

The  bridge  seemed  now  broken  down  behind  him,  and  the 
chance  of  coming  off  honourably  without  killing  or  being 
killed  (the  hope  of  which  issue  has  cheered  the  sinking  heart 
of  many  a  duellist)  seemed  now  to  be  altogether  removed. 
Yet  the  very  desperation  of  his  situation  gave  him,  on  an  in- 
stant's reflection,  both  firmness  and  courage,  and  presented  to 
him  one  sole  alternative — conquest,  namely,  or  death. 

"  As  we  are  here, "  said  Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton,  "  unaccompa- 
nied by  any  patrons  or  seconds,  it  were  well  you  should  pass 
your  hands  over  my  side,  as  I  shall  over  yours ;  not  that  I 
suspect  you  to  use  any  quaint  device  of  privy  armour,  but  in 
order  to  comply  with  the  ancient  and  laudable  custom  practised 
on  all  such  occasions." 

While,  complying  with  his  antagonist's  humour,  Halbert 
Glendinning  went  through  this  ceremony,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton 
did  not  fail  to  solicit  his  attention  to  the  quality  and  fineness 
of  his  wrought  and  embroidered  shirt.  "  In  this  very  shirt, 99 
said  he,  "  0  mine  Audacity — I  say  in  this  very  garment,  in 
which  I  am  now  to  combat  a  Scottish  rustic  like  thyself,  it 
was  my  envied  lot  to  lead  the  winning  party  at  that  wondrous 
match  at  ballon  made  betwixt  the  divine  Astrophel — our 
matchless  Sidney — and  the  right  honourable  my  very  good 
lord  of  Oxford.  All  the  beauties  of  Felicia — by  which  name 
I  distinguish  our  beloved  England — stood  in  the  gallery,  wav- 
ing their  kerchiefs  at  each  turn  of  the  game,  and  cheering  the 
winners  by  their  plaudits.    After  which  noble  sport  we  were 


272 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


refreshed  by  a  suitable  banquet,  whereat  it  pleased  the  noble 
Urania — being  the  unmatched  Countess  of  Pembroke — to  ac- 
commodate me  with  her  own  fan  for  the  cooling  my  somewhat 
too  much  inflamed  visage,  to  requite  with  courtesy  I  said, 
casting  my  features  into  a  smiling  yet  melancholy  fashion: 
"  0  divinest  Urania !  receive  again  that  too  fatal  gift,  which 
not  like  the  Zephyr  cooleth,  but  like  the  hot  breath  of  the 
Sirocco  heateth  yet  more  that  which  is  already  inflamed." 
Whereupon,  looking  upon  me  somewhat  scornfully,  yet  not 
so  but  what  the  experienced  courtier  might  perceive  a  certain 
cast  of  approbative  affection  " 

Here  the  knight  was  interrupted  by  Halbert,  who  had 
waited  with  courteous  patience  for  some  little  time,  till  he 
found  that,  far  from  drawing  to  a  close,  Sir  Piercie  seemed 
rather  inclined  to  wax  prolix  in  his  reminiscences. 

"Sir  knight,"  said  the  youth,  "if  this  matter  be  not  very 
much  to  the  purpose,  we  will,  if  you  object  not,  proceed  to 
that  which  we  have  in  hand.  You  should  have  abidden  in 
England  had  you  desired  to  waste  time  in  words,  for  here  we 
spend  it  in  blows." 

"  I  crave  your  pardon,  most  rusticated  Audacity, "  answered 
Sir  Piercie ;  "  truly  I  become  oblivious  of  everything  beside 
when  the  recollections  of  the  divine  court  of  Felicia  press 
upon  my  weakened  memory,  even  as  a  saint  is  dazzled  when 
he  bethinks  him  of  the  beatific  vision.  Ah,  felicitous  Felici- 
ana! delicate  nurse  of  the  fair,  chosen  abode  of  the  wise,  the 
birthplace  and  cradle  of  nobility,  the  temple  of  courtesy,  the 
fane  of  sprightly  chivalry!  Ah,  heavenly  court,  or  rather 
courtly  heaven !  cheered  with  dances,  lulled  asleep  with  har- 
mony, wakened  with  sprightly  sports  and  tourneys,  decored 
with  silks  and  tissues,  glittering  with  diamonds  and  jewels, 
standing  on  end  with  double-piled  velvets,  satins,  and  satin  - 
ettas!" 

"The  token,  sir  knight — the  token!"  exclaimed  Halbert 
Glendinning,  who,  impatient  of  Sir  Piercie's  interminable 
oratory,  reminded  him  of  the  ground  of  their  quarrel,  as  the 
best  way  to  compel  him  to  the  purpose  of  their  meeting. 

And  he  judged  right;  for  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  no  sooner 


THE  MONASTERY. 


273 


heard  him  speak  than  he  exclaimed :  "  Thy  death-hour  has 
struck :  betake  thee  to  thy  sword.     Via  /" 

Both  swords  were  unsheathed,  and  the  combatants  com- 
menced their  engagement.  Halbert  became  immediately 
aware  that,  as  he  had  expected,  he  was  far  inferior  to  his 
adversary  in  the  use  of  his  weapon.  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  had 
taken  no  more  than  his  own  share  of  real  merit  when  he 
termed  himself  an  absolutely  good  fencer;  and  Glendinning 
soon  found  that  he  should  have  great  difficulty  in  escaping 
with  life  and  honour  from  such  a  master  of  the  sword.  The 
English  knight  was  master  of  all  the  mystery  of  the  stoccata, 
imbrocata,  punto  reverso,  incartata,  and  so  forth,  which  the  Ital- 
ian masters  of  defence  had  lately  introduced  into  general  prac- 
tice. But  Glendinning,  on  his  part,  was  no  novice  in  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  art,  according  to  the  old  Scottish  fashion,  and 
possessed  the  first  of  all  qualities,  a  steady  and  collected  mind. 
At  first,  being  desirous  to  try  the  skill,  and  become  acquainted 
with  the  play,  of  his  enemy,  he  stood  on  his  defence,  keeping 
his  foot,  hand,  eye,  and  body  in  perfect  unison,  and  holding 
his  sword  short,  and  with  the  point  towards  his  antagonist's 
face,  so  that  Sir  Piercie,  in  order  to  assail  him,  was  obliged 
to  make  actual  passes,  and  could  not  avail  himself  of  his 
skill  in  making  feints ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  Halbert  was 
prompt  to  parry  these  attacks,  either  by  shifting  his  ground 
or  with  the  sword.  The  consequence  was  that,  after  two  or 
three  sharp  attempts  on  the  part  of  Sir  Piercie,  which  were 
evaded  or  disconcerted  by  the  address  of  his  opponent,  he 
began  to  assume  the  defensive  in  his  turn,  fearful  of  giving 
some  advantage  by  being  repeatedly  the  assailant.  But  Hal- 
bert was  too  cautious  to  press  on  a  swordsman  whose  dexter- 
ity had  already  more  than  once  placed  him  within  a  hair's- 
breadth  of  death,  which  he  had  only  escaped  by  uncommon 
watchfulness  and  agility. 

When  each  had  made  a  feint  or  two,  there  was  a  pause  in 
the  conflict,  both  as  if  by  one  assent  dropping  their  sword's 
point,  and  looking  on  each  other  for  a  moment  without  speak- 
ing. At  length  Halbert  Glendinning,  who  felt  perhaps  more 
uneasy  on  account  of  his  family  than  he  had  done  before  he 
18 


274 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


had  displayed  his  own  courage  and  proved  the  strength  of  his 
antagonist,  could  not  help  saying :  "  Is  the  subject  of  our  quar- 
rel, sir  knight,  so  mortal  that  one  of  our  two  bodies  must  needs 
fill  up  that  grave?  or  may  we  with  honour,  having  proved 
ourselves  against  each  other,  sheathe  our  swords  and  depart 
friends?" 

"Valiant  and  most  rustical  Audacity,"  said  the  Southron 
knight,  "  to  no  man  on  earth  could  you  have  put  a  question 
on  the  code  of  honour  who  was  more  capable  of  rendering  you 
a  reason.  Let  us  pause  for  the  space  of  one  venue,  until  I 
give  you  my  opinion  on  this  dependence ;  for  certain  it  is  that 
brave  men  should  not  run  upon  their  fate  like  brute  and  furi- 
ous wild  beasts,  but  should  slay  each  other  deliberately,  de- 
cently, and  with  reason.  Therefore,  if  we  coolly  examine  the 
state  of  our  dependence,  we  may  the  better  apprehend  whether 
the  sisters  three  have  doomed  one  of  us  to  expiate  the  same 
with  his  blood.    Dost  thou  understand  me?" 

"  I  have  heard  Father  Eustace, "  said  Halbert,  after  a  mo- 
ment's recollection,  "  speak  of  the  three  furies,  with  their 
thread  and  their  shears." 

"  Enough — enough, "  interrupted  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  crim- 
soning with  a  new  fit  of  rage,  "  the  thread  of  thy  life  is  spun!" 

And  with  these  words  he  attacked  with  the  utmost  ferocity 
the  Scottish  youth,  who  had  but  just  time  to  throw  himself 
into  a  posture  of  defence.  But  the  rash  fury  of  the  assailant, 
as  frequently  happens,  disappointed  its  own  purpose ;  for,  as 
he  made  a  desperate  thrust,  Halbert  Glendinning  avoided  it, 
and,  ere  the  knight  could  recover  his  weapon,  requited  him 
(to  use  his  own  language)  with  a  resolute  stoccata,  which 
passed  through  his  body,  and  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  fell  to  the 
ground. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Yes,  life  hath  left  him  :  every  busy  thought, 
Each  fiery  passion,  every  strong  affection, 
All  sense  of  outward  ill  and  inward  sorrow, 
Are  fled  at  once  from  the  pale  trunk  before  me  ; 
And  I  have  given  that  which  spoke  and  moved, 
Thought,  acted,  suffer'd  as  a  living  man, 
To  be  a  ghastly  form  of  bloody  clay, 
Soon  the  foul  food  for  reptiles. 

Old  Play. 

I  believe  few  successful  duellists,  if  the  word  successful 
can  be  applied  to  a  superiority  so  fatal,  have  beheld  their 
dead  antagonist  stretched  on  the  earth  at  their  feet  without 
wishing  they  could  redeem  with  their  own  blood  that  which 
it  has  been  their  fate  to  spill.  Least  of  all  could  such  indif- 
ference be  the  lot  of  so  young  a  man  as  Halbert  Glendinning, 
who,  unused  to  the  sight  of  human  blood,  was  not  only  struck 
with  sorrow,  but  with  terror,  when  he  beheld  Sir  Piercie  Shaf- 
ton  lie  stretched  on  the  greensward  before  him,  vomiting  gore 
as  if  impelled  by  the  strokes  of  a  pump.  He  threw  his  bloody 
sword  on  the  ground,  and  hastened  to  kneel  down  and  support 
him,  vainly  striving,  at  the  same  time,  to  stanch  his  wound, 
which  seemed  rather  to  bleed  inwardly  than  externally. 

The  unfortunate  knight  spoke  at  intervals,  when  the  syn- 
cope would  permit  him,  and  his  words,  so  far  as  intelligible, 
partook  of  his  affected  and  conceited,  yet  not  ungenerous, 
character. 

"  Most  rustical  youth,"  he  said,  "  thy  fortune  hath  prevailed 
over  knightly  skill,  and  Audacity  hath  overcome  Condescen- 
sion, even  as  the  kite  hath  sometimes  hawked  at  and  struck 
down  the  falcon -gentle.  Ely  and  save  thyself!  Take  my 
purse ;  it  is  in  the  nether  pocket  of  my  carnation-coloured  hose, 
and  is  worth  a  clown's  acceptance.  See  that  my  mails,  with 
my  vestments,  be  sent  to  the  Monastery  of  St.  Mary's  (here 
his  voice  grew  weak,  and  his  mind  and  recollection  seemed 
to  waver).  I  bestow  the  cut  velvet  jerkin,  with  close  breeches 
conforming,  for — oh! — the  good  of  my  soul." 


276 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"Be  of  good  comfort,  sir,"  said  Halbert,  half-distracted 
with  his  agony  of  pity  and  remorse.  "  I  trust  you  shall  yet 
do  well.    0  for  a  leech!" 

"  Were  there  twenty  physicians,  0  most  generous  Audacity 
— and  that  were  a  grave  spectacle — I  might  not  survive :  my 
life  is  ebbing  fast.  Commend  me  to  the  rustical  nymph  whom 
I  called  my  Discretion.  0  Claridiana!  true  empress  of  this 
bleeding  heart,  which  now  bleedeth  in  sad  earnest!  Place 
me  on  the  ground  at  my  length,  most  rustical  victor,  born  to 
quench,  the  pride  of  the  burning  light  of  the  most  felicitous 
court  of  Feliciana.  0  saints  and  angels — knights  and  ladies — • 
masques  and  theatres — quaint  devices — chain-work  and  broid- 
ery— love,  honour,  and  beauty  !" 

While  muttering  these  last  words,  which  slid  from  him,  as 
it  were  unawares,  while  doubtless  he  was  recalling  to  mind 
the  glories  of  the  English  court,  the  gallant  Sir  Piercie  Shaf- 
ton  stretched  out  his  limbs,  groaned  deeply,  shut  his  eyes, 
and  became  motionless. 

The  victor  tore  his  hair  for  very  sorrow,  as  he  looked  on 
the  pale  countenance  of  his  victim.  Life,  he  thought,  had 
not  utterly  fled,  but  without  better  aid  than  his  own  he  saw 
not  how  it  could  be  preserved. 

"Why,"  he  exclaimed,  in  vain  penitence — "why  did  I  pro- 
voke him  to  an  issue  so  fatal !  Would  to  God  I  had  submit- 
ted to  the  worst  insult  man  could  receive  from  man,  rather 
than  be  the  bloody  instrument  of  this  bloody  deed ;  and  doubly 
cursed  be  this  evil-boding  spot,  which,  haunted  as  I  knew  it 
to  be  by  a  witch  or  a  devil,  I  yet  chose  for  the  place  of  com- 
bat !  In  any  other  place  save  this  there  had  been  help  to  be 
gotten  by  speed  of  foot  or  by  uplifting  of  voice ;  but  here  there 
is  no  one  to  be  found  by  search,  no  one  to  hear  my  shouts, 
save  the  evil  spirit  who  has  counselled  this  mischief.  It  is 
not  her  hour — I  will  essay  the  spell  howsoever ;  and  if  she  can 
give  me  aid,  she  shall  do  it,  or  know  of  what  a  madman  is 
capable  even  against  those  of  another  world!" 

He  spurned  his  bloody  shoe  from  his  foot,  and  repeated  the 
spell  with  which  the  reader  is  well  acquainted ;  but  there  was 
nether  voice,  apparition,  nor  signal  of  answer.    The  youth, 


THE  MONASTERY. 


277 


in  the  impatience  of  his  despair,  and  with  the  rash  hardihood 
which  formed  the  basis  of  his  character,  shouted  aloud: 
"  Witch — sorceress — fiend!  art  thou  deaf  to  my  cries  for  help, 
and  so  ready  to  appear  and  answer  those  of  vengeance?  Arise 
and  speak  to  me,  or  I  will  choke  up  thy  fountain,  tear  down  thy 
holly -bush,  and  leave  thy  haunt  as  waste  and  bare  as  thy  fatal 
assistance  has  made  me  waste  of  comfort  and  bare  of  counsel!*' 
This  furious  and  raving  invocation  was  suddenly  interrupted 
by  a  distant  sound,  resembling  a  halloo,  from  the  gorge  of  the 
ravine.  "Now  may  St.  Mary  be  praised,"  said  the  youth, 
hastily  fastening  his  sandal,  "  I  hear  the  voice  of  some  living 
man,  who  may  give  me  counsel  and  help  in  this  fearful  ex- 
tremity !" 

Having  donned  his  sandal,  Halbert  Glendinning,  hallooing 
at  intervals,  in  answer  to  the  sound  which  he  had  heard,  ran 
with  the  speed  of  a  hunted  buck  down  the  rugged  defile,  as  if 
paradise  had  been  before  him,  hell  and  all  her  furies  behind, 
and  his  eternal  happiness  or  misery  had  depended  upon  the 
speed  which  he  exerted.  In  a  space  incredibly  short  for  any 
one  but  a  Scottish  mountaineer  having  his  nerves  strung  by 
the  deepest  and  most  passionate  interest,  the  youth  reached 
the  entrance  of  the  ravine,  through  which  the  rill  that  flows 
down  Corrie-nan-Shian  discharges  itself,  and  unites  with  the 
brook  that  waters  the  little  valley  of  Glendearg. 

Here  he  paused,  and  looked  around  him  upwards  and  down- 
wards through  the  glen,  without  perceiving  a  human  form. 
His  heart  sank  within  him.  But  the  windings  of  the  glen 
intercepted  his  prospect,  and  the  person  whose  voice  he  had 
heard  might,  therefore,  be  at  no  great  distance,  though  not 
obvious  to  his  sight.  The  branches  of  an  oak-tree,  which  shot 
straight  out  from  the  face  of  a  tall  cliff,  proffered  to  his  bold 
spirit,  steady  head,  and  active  limbs  the  means  of  ascending 
it  as  a  place  of  outlook,  although  the  enterprise  was  what 
most  men  would  have  shrunk  from.  But  by  one  bound  from 
the  earth  the  active  youth  caught  hold  of  the  lower  branch, 
and  swung  himself  up  into  the  tree,  and  in  a  minute  more 
gained  the  top  of  the  cliff,  from  which  he  could  easily  descry 
a  human  figure  descending  the  valley.    It  was  not  that  of  a 


278 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


shepherd  or  of  a  hunter,  and  scarcely  any  others  used  to  trav- 
erse this  deserted  solitude,  especially  coming  from  the  north, 
since  the  reader  may  remember  that  the  brook  took  its  rise 
from  an  extensive  and  dangerous  morass  which  lay  in  that 
direction. 

But  Halbert  Glendinning  did  not  pause  to  consider  who  the 
traveller  might  be,  or  what  might  be  the  purpose  of  his  jour- 
ney. To  know  that  he  saw  a  human  being,  and  might  re- 
ceive, in  the  extremity  of  his  distress,  the  countenance  and 
advice  of  a  fellow -creature,  was  enough  for  him  at  the  mo- 
ment. He  threw  himself  from  the  pinnacle  of  the  cliff  once 
more  into  the  arms  of  the  projecting  oak-tree,  whose  boughs 
waved  in  middle  air,  anchored  by  the  roots  in  a  huge  rift  or 
chasm  of  the  rock.  Catching  at  the  branch  which  was  near- 
est to  him,  he  dropped  himself  from  that  height  upon  the 
ground;  and  such  was  the  athletic  springiness  of  his  youthful 
sinews,  that  he  pitched  there  as  lightly,  and  with  as  little  in- 
jury, as  the  falcon  stooping  from  her  wheel. 

To  resume  his  race  at  full  speed  up  the  glen  was  the  work 
of  an  instant;  and  as  he  turned  angle  after  angle  of  the  in- 
dented banks  of  the  valley  without  meeting  that  which  he 
sought,  he  became  half  afraid  that  the  form  which  he  had 
seen  at  such  a  distance  had  already  melted  into  thin  air, 
and  was  either  a  deception  of  his  own  imagination  or  of  the 
elementary  spirits  by  which  the  valley  was  supposed  to  be 
haunted. 

But,  to  his  inexpressible  joy,  as  he  turned  round  the  base 
of  a  huge  and  distinguished  crag,  he  saw,  straight  before  and 
very  near  to  him,  a  person  whose  dress,  as  he  viewed  it  has- 
tily, resembled  that  of  a  pilgrim. 

He  was  a  man  in  advanced  life,  and  wearing  a  long  beard, 
having  on  his  head  a  large  slouched  hat,  without  either  band 
or  brooch.  His  dress  was  a  tunic  of  black  serge,  which,  like 
those  commonly  called  hussar  cloaks,  had  an  upper  part, 
which  covered  the  arms  and  fell  down  on  the  lower ;  a  small 
scrip  and  bottle,  which  hung  at  his  back,  with  a  stout  staff 
in  his  hand,-  completed  his  equipage.  His  step  was  feeble, 
like  that  of  one  exhausted  by  a  toilsome  journey. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


279 


"Save  ye,  good  father !"  said  the  youth.  "God  and  Our 
Lady  have  sent  you  to  rny  assistance.  "' 

"  And  in  what,  my  son,  can  so  frail  a  creature  as  I  am  be 
of  service  to  you?"  said  the  old  man,  not  a  little  surprised 
at  being  thus  accosted  by  so  handsome  a  y outh,  his  features 
liscomposed  by  anxiety,  his  face  flushed  wiih  exertion,  his 
hands  and  much  of  his  dress  stained  with  blood. 

"  A  man  bleeds  to  death  in  the  valley  here,  hard  by.  Come 
with  me — come  with  me!  You  are  aged — you  have  experi- 
ence— you  have  at  least  your  senses — and  mine  have  wellnigh 
left  me." 

"  A  man,  and  bleeding  to  death — and  here  in  this  desolate 
spot?"  said  the  stranger. 

"Stay  not  to  question  it,  father,"  said  the  youth,  "but 
come  instantly  to  his  rescue.  Follow  me — follow  me,  with- 
out an  instant's  delay." 

"Nay,  but,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "we  do  not  lightly 
follow  the  guides  who  present  themselves  thus  suddenly  in 
the  bosom  of  a  howling  wilderness.  Ere  I  follow  thee,  thou 
must  expound  to  me  thy  name,  thy  purpose,  and  the  cause." 

"There  is  no  time  to  expound  anything,"  said  Halbert;  "I 
tell  thee  a  man's  life  is  at  stake,  and  thou  must  come  to  aid 
him,  or  I  will  carry  thee  thither  by  force!" 

"Nay,  thou  shalt  not  need,"  said  the  traveller;  "if  it  in- 
deed be  as  thou  say  est,  I  will  follow  thee  of  free  will,  the 
rather  that  I  am  not  wholly  unskilled  in  leechcraft,  and  have 
in  my  scrip  that  which  may  do  thy  friend  a  service.  Yet 
walk  more  slowly,  I  pray  thee,  for  I  am  already  wellnigh  fore- 
spent  with  travel." 

With  the  indignant  impatience  of  the  fiery  steed  when  com- 
pelled by  his  rider  to  keep  pace  with  some  slow  drudge  upon 
the  highway,  Halbert  accompanied  the  wayfarer,  burning  with 
anxiety,  which  he  endeavoured  to  subdue,  that  he  might  not 
alarm  his  companion,  who  was  obviously  afraid  to  trust  him. 
When  they  reached  the  place  where  they  were  to  turn  off  the 
wider  glen  into  the  Corrie,  the  traveller  made  a  doubtful 
pause,  as  if  unwilling  to  leave  the  broader  path.  "Yroung 
man,"  he  said,  "  if  thou  meanest  aught  but  good  to  these  grey 


280 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


hairs,  thou  wilt  gain  little  by  thy  cruelty :  I  have  no  earthly 
treasure  to  tempt  either  robber  or  murderer. " 

"And  I,"  said  the  youth,  "  am  neither;  and  yet — God  of 
Heaven! — I  may  be  a  murderer,  unless  your  aid  comes  in  time 
to  this  wounded  wretch!" 

"Is  it  even  so?"  said  the  traveller;  "and  do  human  pas- 
sions disturb  the  breast  of  nature  even  in  her  deepest  soli- 
tude? Yet  why  should  I  marvel  that  where  darkness  abides 
the  works  of  darkness  should  abound?  By  its  fruits  is  the 
tree  known.    Lead  on,  unhappy  youth — I  follow  thee!" 

And  with  better  will  to  the  journey  than  he  had  evinced 
hitherto,  the  stranger  exerted  himself  to  the  uttermost,  and 
seemed  to  forget  his  own  fatigue  in  his  efforts  to  keep  pace 
with  his  impatient  guide. 

What  was  the  surprise  of  Halbert  Glendinning  when,  upon 
arriving  at  the  fatal  spot,  he  saw  no  appearance  of  the  body 
of  Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton !  The  traces  of  the  fray  were  other- 
wise sufficiently  visible.  The  knight's  cloak  had  indeed  van- 
ished as  well  as  the  body,  but  his  doublet  remained  where  he 
had  laid  it  down,  and  the  turf  on  which  he  had  been  stretched 
was  stained  with  blood  in  many  a  dark  crimson  spot. 

As  he  gazed  round  him  in  terror  and  astonishment,  Hal- 
bert' s  eyes  fell  upon  the  place  of  sepulture  which  had  so  lately 
appeared  to  gape  for  a  victim.  It  was  no  longer  open,  and  it 
seemed  that  earth  had  received  the  expected  tenant ;  for  the 
usual  narrow  hillock  was  piled  over  what  had  lately  been  an 
open  grave,  and  the  green  sod  was  adjusted  over  all  with  the 
accuracy  of  an  experienced  sexton.  Halbert  stood  aghast. 
The  idea  rushed  on  his  mind  irresistibly  that  the  earth-heap 
before  him  inclosed  what  had  lately  been  a  living,  moving, 
and  sentient  fellow -creature,  whom,  on  little  provocation,  his 
fell  act  had  reduced  to  a  clod  of  the  valley,  as  senseless  and 
as  cold  as  the  turf  under  which  he  rested.  The  hand  that 
scooped  the  grave  had  completed  its  work ;  and  whose  hand 
could  it  be  save  that  of  the  mysterious  being  of  doubtful  qual- 
ity whom  his  rashness  had  invoked,  and  whom  he  had  suffered 
to  intermingle  in  his  destinies? 

As  he  stood  with  clasped  hands  and  uplifted  eyes,  bitterly 


THE  MONASTERY. 


281 


ruing  his  rashness,  he  was  roused  by  the  voice  of  the  stran- 
ger, whose  suspicions  of  his  guide  had  again  been  awakened 
by  rinding  the  scene  so  different  from  what  Halbert  had  led 
him  to  expect.  "  Young  man/'  he  said,  "  hast  thou  baited  thy 
tongue  with  falsehood,  to  cut  perhaps  only  a  few  days  from 
the  life  of  one  whom  nature  will  soon  call  home,  without  guilt 
on  thy  part  to  hasten  his  journey?" 

"  By  the  blessed  Heaven! — by  our  dear  Lady!"  ejaculated 
Halbert  

"  Swear  not  at  all!"  said  the  stranger,  interrupting  him, 
"neither  by  Heaven,  for  it  is  God's  throne,  nor  by  earth,  for 
it  is  His  footstool;  nor  by  the  creatures  whom  He  hath  made, 
for  they  are  but  earth  and  clay  as  we  are.  Let  thy  yea  be 
yea,  and  thy  nay  nay.  Tell  me  in  a  word,  why  and  for  what 
purpose  thou  hast  feigned  a  tale  to  lead  a  bewildered  traveller 
yet  farther  astray?" 

"As  I  am  a  Christian  man,"  said  Glendinning,  "I  left  him 
here  bleeding  to  death;  and  now  I  nowhere  spy  him,  and 
much  I  doubt  that  the  tomb  that  thou  seest  has  closed  on  his 
mortal  remains!" 

"And  who  is  he  for  whose  fate  thou  art  so  anxious?"  said 
the  stranger ;  "  or  how  is  it  possible  that  this  wounded  man 
could  have  been  either  removed  from,  or  interred  in,  a  place 
so  solitary?" 

"His  name,"  said  Halbert,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "is 
Piercie  Shafton;  there,  on  that  very  spot,  I  left  him  bleed- 
ing; and  what  power  has  conveyed  him  hence,  I  know  no 
more  than  thou  dost." 

"Piercie  Shafton?"  said  the  stranger — "  Sir  Piercie  Shaf- 
ton of  Wilverton,  a  kinsman,  as  it  is  said,  of  the  great  Piercie 
of  Northumberland?  If  thou  hast  slain  him,  to  return  to  the 
territories  of  the  proud  abbot  is  to  give  thy  neck  to  the  gal- 
lows. He  is  well  known — that  Piercie  Shafton — the  med- 
dling tool  of  wiser  plotters — a  hare-brained  trafficker  in  trea- 
son— a  champion  of  the  Pope,  employed  as  a  forlorn  hope  by 
those  more  politic  heads,  who  have  more  will  to  work  mischief 
than  valour  to  encounter  danger.  Come  with  me,  youth,  and 
save  thyself  from  the  evil  consequences  of  this  deed.  Guide 


282 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


me  to  the  Castle  of  Avenel,  and  thy  reward  shall  be  protec- 
tion and  safety." 

Again  Halbert  paused,  and  summoned  his  mind  to  a  hasty 
council.  The  vengeance  with  which  the  abbot  was  likely  to 
visit  the  slaughter  of  Shafton,  his  friend,  and  in  some  meas- 
ure his  guest,  was  likely  to  be  severe ;  yet,  in  the  various  con- 
tingencies which  he  had  considered  previous  to  their  duel,  he 
had  unaccountably  omitted  to  reflect  what  was  to  be  his  line 
of  conduct  in  case  of  Sir  Piercie  falling  by  his  hand.  If  he 
returned  to  Glendearg,  lie  was  sure  to  draw  on  his  whole  fam- 
ily, including  Mary  Avenel,  the  resentment  of  the  abbot  and 
community,  whereas  it  was  possible  that  flight  might  make 
him  be  regarded  as  the  sole  author  of  the  deed,  and  might 
avert  the  indignation  of  the  monks  from  the  rest  of  the  inhab- 
itants of  his  paternal  tower.  Halbert  recollected  also  the  fa- 
vour expressed  for  the  household,  and  especially  for  Edward, 
by  the  sub-prior ;  and  he  conceived  that  he  could,  by  commu- 
nicating his  own  guilt  to  that  worthy  ecclesiastic,  when  at  a 
distance  from  Glendearg,  secure  his  powerful  interposition  in 
favour  of  his  family.  These  thoughts  rapidly  passed  through 
his  mind,  and  he  determined  on  flight.  The  stranger's  com- 
pany and  his  promised  protection  came  in  aid  of  that  resolu- 
tion ;  but  he  was  unable  to  reconcile  the  invitation  which  the 
old  man  gave  him  to  accompany  him  for  safety  to  the  Castle 
of  Avenel  with  the  connexions  of  Julian,  the  present  usurper 
of  that  inheritance.  "  Good  father, "  he  said,  "  I  fear  that 
you  mistake  the  man  with  whom  you  wish  me  to  harbour. 
Avenel  guided  Piercie  Shafton  into  Scotland,  and  his  hench- 
man, Christie  of  the  Clin  thill,  brought  the  Southron  hither. " 

"  Of  that, "  said  the  old  man,  "  I  am  well  aware.  Yet  if 
thou  wilt  trust  to  me,  as  I  have  shown  no  reluctance  to  con- 
fide in  thee,  thou  shalt  find  with  Julian  Avenel  welcome,  or 
at  least  safety." 

"  Father, "  replied  Halbert,  "  though  I  can  ill  reconcile  what 
thou  sayest  with  what  Julian  Avenel  hath  done,  yet  caring 
little  about  the  safety  of  a  creature  so  lost  as  myself,  and  as 
thy  words  seem  those  of  truth  and  honesty,  and  finally,  as 
thou  didst  render  thyself  frankly  up  to  my  conduct,  I  will  re- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


283 


turn  the  confidence  thou  hast  shown,  and  accompany  thee  to 
the  Castle  of  Avenel  by  a  road  which  thou  thyself  couldst 
never  have  discovered."  He  led  the  way,  and  the  old  man 
followed  for  some  time  in  silence. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

'Tis  when  the  wound  is  stiffening  with  the  cold 
The  warrior  first  feels  pain  ;  'tis  when  the  heat 
And  fiery  fever  of  his  soul  is  pass'd, 
The  sinner  feels  remorse. 

Old  Play. 

The  feelings  of  compunction  with  which  Halbert  Glendin- 
ning  was  visited  upon  this  painful  occasion  were  deeper  than 
belonged  to  an  age  and  country  in  which  human  life  was  held 
so  cheap.  They  fell  far  short  certainly  of  those  which  might 
have  afflicted  a  mind  regulated  by  better  religious  precepts, 
and  more  strictly  trained  under  social  laws;  but  still  they 
were  deep  and  severely  felt,  and  divided  in  Halbert' s  heart 
even  the  regret  with  which  he  parted  from  Mary  Avenel  and 
the  tower  of  his  fathers. 

The  old  traveller  walked  silently  by  his  side  for  some  time, 
and  then  addressed  him.  "  My  son,  it  has  been  said  that  sor- 
row must  speak  or  die.  Why  art  thou  so  much  cast  down? 
Tell  me  thy  unhappy  tale,  and  it  may  be  that  my  grey  head 
may  devise  counsel  and  aid  for  your  young  life." 

"Alas!"  said  Halbert  Glendinning,  "can  you  wonder  why 
I  am  cast  down?  I  am  at  this  instant  a  fugitive  from  my 
father's  house,  from  my  mother  and  from  my  friends,  and  I 
bear  on  my  head  the  blood  of  a  man  who  injured  me  but  in 
idle  words,  which  I  have  thus  bloodily  requited.  My  heart 
now  tells  me  I  have  done  j  vil :  it  were  harder  than  these  rocks 
if  it  could  bear  unmoved  the  thought  that  I  have  sent  this 
man  to  a  long  account,  unhouseled  and  unshrieved!" 

"Pause  there,  my  son,"  said  the  traveller.  "That  thou 
hast  defaced  God's  image  in  thy  neighbour's  person,  that 
thou  hast  sent  dust  to  dust  in  idle  wrath  or  idler  pride,  is  in- 


284 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


deed  a  sin  of  the  deepest  dye ;  that  thou  hast  cut  short  the 
space  which  Heaven  might  have  allowed  him  for  repentance 
makes  it  yet  more  deadly ;  but  for  all  this  there  is  balm  in 
Gilead." 

"  I  understand  you  not,  father, "  said  Halbert,  struck  by  the 
solemn  tone  which  was  assumed  by  his  companion. 

The  old  man  proceeded.  "  Thou  hast  slain  thine  enemy- 
it  was  a  cruel  deed ;  thou  hast  cut  him  off  perchance  in  his 
sins — it  is  a  fearful  aggravation.  Do  yet  by  my  counsel,  and 
in  lieu  of  him  whom  thou  hast  perchance  consigned  to  the 
kingdom  of  Satan,  let  thine  efforts  wrest  another  subject  from 
the  reign  of  the  Evil  One." 

"I  understand  you,  father,"  said  Halbert ;  "thou  wouldst 
have  me  atone  for  my  rashness  by  doing  service  to  the  soul  of 
my  adversary.  But  how  may  this  be?  I  have  no  money  to 
purchase  masses,  and  gladly  would  I  go  barefoot  to  the  Holy 
Land  to  free  his  spirit  from  purgatory,  only  that  " 

"  My  son, "  said  the  old  man,  interrupting  him,  "  the  sinner 
for  whose  redemption  I  entreat  you  to  labour  is  not  the  dead 
but  the  living.  It  is  not  for  the  soul  of  thine  enemy  I  would 
exhort  thee  to  pray,  that  has  already  had  its  final  doom  from  a 
Judge  as  merciful  as  He  is  just;  nor,  wert  thou  to  coin  that 
rock  into  ducats,  and  obtain  a  mass  for  each  one,  would  it 
avail  the  departed  spirit.  Where  the  tree  hath  fallen  it  must 
lie.  But  the  sapling,  which  hath  in  it  yet  the  vigour  and  juice 
of  life,  may  be  bended  to  the  point  to  which  it  ought  to  incline." 

"Art  thou  a  priest,  father?"  said  the  young  man,  "or  by 
what  commission  dost  thou  talk  of  such  high  matters?" 

"  By  that  of  my  Almighty  Master, "  said  the  traveller,  "  un- 
der whose  banner  I  am  an  enlisted  soldier." 

Halbert' s  acquaintance  with  religious  matters  was  no  deeper 
than  could  be  derived  from  the  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrews' 
Catechism,  and  the  pamphlet  called  the  Twa-pennie  Faith, 
both  which  were  industriously  circulated  and  recommended  by 
the  monks  of  St.  Mary's.  Yet,  however  indifferent  and  super- 
ficial a  theologian,  he  began  to  suspect  that  he  was  now  in  com- 
pany with  one  of  the  gospellers,  or  heretics,  before  whose  in- 
fluence the  ancient  system  of  religion  now  tottered  to  the  very 


THE  MONASTERY. 


285 


foundation.  Bred  up,  as  may  well  be  presumed,  in  a  holy  hor- 
ror against  these  formidable  sectaries,  the  youth's  first  feelings 
were  those  of  a  loyal  and  devoted  church  vassal.  "  Old  man, " 
he  said,  "wert  thou  able  to  make  good  with  thy  hand  the 
words  that  thy  tongue  hath  spoken  against  our  Holy  Mother 
Church,  we  should  have  tried  upon  this  moor  which  of  our 
creeds  hath  the  better  champion." 

"Nay,"  said  the  stranger,  "if  thou  art  a  true  soldier  of 
Rome,  thou  wilt  not  pause  from  thy  purpose  because  thou 
hast  the  odds  of  years  and  of  strength  on  thy  side.  Hearken 
to  me,  my  son.  I  have  showed  thee  how  to  make  thy  peace 
with  Heaven,  and  thou  hast  rejected  my  proffer.  I  will  now 
show  thee  how  thou  shalt  make  thy  reconciliation  with  the 
powers  of  this  world.  Take  this  grey  head  from  the  frail 
body  which  supports  it,  and  carry  it  to  the  ohair  of  proud 
Abbot  Boniface ;  and  when  thou  tellest  him  thou  hast  slain 
Piercie  Shafton,  and  his  ire  rises  at  the  deed,  lay  the  head  of 
Henry  Warden  at  his  foot,  and  thou  shalt  have  praise  instead 
of  censure." 

Halbert  Glendinning  stepped  back  in  surprise.  "What! 
are  you  that  Henry  Warden  so  famous  among  the  heretics 
that  even  Knox's  name  is  scarce  more  frequently  in  their 
mouths?  Art  thou  he,  and  darest  thou  to  approach  the  hali- 
dome  of  St.  Mary's?" 

"I  am  Henry  Warden  of  a  surety,"  said  the  old  man,  "far 
unworthy  to  be  named  in  the  same  breath  with  Knox,  but  yet 
willing  to  venture  on  whatever  dangers  my  Master's  service 
may  call  me  to." 

"  Hearken  to  me,  then, "  said  Halbert ;  "  to  slay  thee  I  have 
no  heart ;  to  make  thee  prisoner  were  equally  to  bring  thy  blood 
on  my  head ;  to  leave  thee  in  this  wild  without  a  guide  were 
little  better.  I  will  conduct  thee,  as  I  promised,  in  safety  to 
the  Castle  of  Avenel;  but  breathe  not,  while  we  are  on  the 
journey,  a  word  against  the  doctrines  of  the  holy  church  of 
which  I  am  an  unworthy,  but,  though  an  ignorant,  a  zealous 
member.  When  thou  art  there  arrived,  beware  of  thyself: 
there  is  a  high  price  upon  thy  head,  and  Julian  Avenel  loves 
the  glance  of  gold  bonnet-pieces." 


286 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Yet  thou  sayest  not,"  answered  the  Protestant  preacher, 
for  such  he  was,  "  that  for  lucre  he  would  sell  the  blood  of  his 
guest?" 

"  Not  if  thou  coniest  an  invited  stranger,  relying  on  his 
faith,"  said  the  youth:  "evil  as  Julian  may  be,  he  dare  not 
break  the  rites  of  hospitality;  for,  loose  as  we  on  these 
marches  may  be  in  all  other  ties,  these  are  respected  amongst 
us  even  to  idolatry,  and  his  nearest  relations  would  think  it 
incumbent  on  them  to  spill  his  blood  themselves,  to  efface  the 
disgrace  such  treason  would  bring  upon  their  name  and  lineage. 
But  if  thou  goest  self-invited,  and  without  assurance  of  safety, 
I  promise  thee  thy  risk  is  great." 

"I  am  in  God's  hand,"  answered  the  preacher;  "  it  is  on 
His  errand  that  I  traverse  these  wilds  amidst  dangers  of  every 
kind;  while  I  am  useful  for  my  Master's  service,  they  shall 
not  prevail  against  me,  and  when,  like  the  barren  fig-tree,  I 
can  no  longer  produce  fruit,  what  imports  it  when  or  by  whom 
the  axe  is  laid  to  the  root?" 

"Your  courage  and  devotion,"  said  Glendinning,  "are  wor- 
thy of  a  better  cause." 

"That,"  said  Warden,  "cannot  be:  mine  is  the  very  best." 

They  continued  their  journey  in  silence,  Halbert  Glendin- 
ning tracing  with  the  utmost  accuracy  the  mazes  of  the 
dangerous  and  intricate  morasses  and  hills  which  divided  the 
halidome  from  the  barony  of  Avenel.  From  time  to  time  he 
was  obliged  to  stop  in  order  to  assist  his  companion  to  cross 
the  black  intervals  of  quaking  bog,  called  in  the  Scottish  dia- 
lect "  hags, "  by  which  the  firmer  parts  of  the  morass  were 
intersected. 

"  Courage,  old  man, "  said  Halbert,  as  he  saw  his  companion 
almost  exhausted  with  fatigue,  "  we  shall  soon  be  upon  hard 
ground.  And  yet,  soft  as  this  moss  is,  I  have  seen  the  merry 
falconers  go  through  it  as  light  as  deer  when  the  quarry  was 
upon  the  flight." 

"  True,  my  son, "  answered  Warden,  "  for  so  I  will  still  call 
you,  though  you  term  me  no  longer  father ;  and  even  so  doth 
headlong  youth  pursue  its  pleasures,  without  regard  to  the 
mire  and  the  peril  of  the  paths  through  which  they  are  hurried. " 


THE  MONASTERY. 


287 


"  I  have  already  told  thee,"  answered  Halbert  Glendinning, 
sternly,  "  that  I  will  hear  nothing  from  thee  that  savours  of 
doctrine." 

"  Nay,  but,  my  son,  answered  Warden,  "  thy  spiritual  fa- 
ther himself  would  surely  not  dispute  the  truth  of  what  I  have 
now  spoken  for  your  edification?" 

Glendinning  stoutly  replied :  "  I  know  not  how  that  may  be ; 
but  I  wot  well  it  is  the  fashion  of  your  brotherhood  to  bait 
your  hook  with  fair  discourse,  and  to  hold  yourselves  up  as 
angels  of  light,  that  you  may  the  better  extend  the  kingdom 
of  darkness." 

"May  God,"  replied  the  preacher,  "pardon  those  who  have 
thus  reported  of  His  servants!  I  will  not  offend  thee,  my 
son,  by  being  instant  out  of  season.  Thou  speakest  but  as 
thou  art  taught ;  yet  sure  I  trust  that  so  goodly  a  youth  will 
be  still  rescued,  like  a  brand  from  the  burning." 

While  he  thus  spoke,  the  verge  of  the  morass  was  attained, 
and  their  path  lay  on  the  declivity.  Greensward  it  was,  and, 
viewed  from  a  distance,  chequered  with  its  narrow  and  verdant 
line  the  dark-brown  heath  which  it  traversed,  though  the  dis- 
tinction was  not  so  easily  traced  when  they  were  walking  on 
it.1  The  old  man  pursued  his  journey  with  comparative  ease; 
and,  unwilling  again  to  awaken  the  jealous  zeal  of  his  young 
companion  for  the  Eoman  faith,  he  discoursed  on  other  mat- 
ters. The  tone  of  his  conversation  was  still  grave,  moral,  and 
instructive.  He  had  travelled  much,  and  knew  both  the  lan- 
guage and  manners  of  other  countries,  concerning  which  Hal- 
bert Glendinnng,  already  anticipating  the  possibility  of  being 
obliged  to  quit  Scotland  for  the  deed  he  had  done,  was  natu- 
rally and  anxiously  desirous  of  information.  By  degrees  he 
was  more  attracted  by  the  charms  of  the  stranger's  conversa- 
tion than  repelled  by  the  dread  of  his  dangerous  character  as 
a  heretic,  and  Halbert  had  called  him  father  more  than  once 
ere  the  turrets  of  Avenel  Castle  came  in  view. 

The  situation  of  this  ancient  fortress  was  remarkable.  It 

1  This  species  of  path,  visible  when  looked  at  from  a  distance,  but  not  to 
be  seen  when  you  are  upon  it,  is  called  on  the  Border  by  the  significant 
name  of  a  "  blind  road." 


288 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


occupied  a  small  rocky  islet  in  a  mountain  lake,  or  tarn,  as 
such  a  piece  of  water  is  called  in  Westmoreland.  The  lake 
might  be  about  a  mile  in  circumference,  surrounded  by  hills 
of  considerable  height,  which,  except  where  old  trees  and 
brushwood  occupied  the  ravines  that  divided  them  from  each 
other,  were  bare  and  heathy.  The  surprise  of  the  spectator 
was  chiefly  excited  by  finding  a  piece  of  water  situated  in  that 
high  and  mountainous  region,  and  the  landscape  around  had 
features  which  might  rather  be  termed  wild  than  either  ro- 
mantic or  sublime ;  yet  the  scene  was  not  without  its  charms. 
Under  the  burning  sun  of  summer,  the  clear  azure  of  the  deep 
unruffled  lake  refreshed  the  eye,  and  impressed  the  mind  with 
a  pleasing  feeling  of  deep  solitude.  In  winter,  when  the  snow 
lay  on  the  mountains  around,  these  dazzling  masses  appeared 
to  ascend  far  beyond  their  wonted  and  natural  height,  while 
the  lake,  which  stretched  beneath,  and  filled  their  bosom  with 
all  its  frozen  waves,  lay  like  the  surface  of  a  darkened  and 
broken  mirror  around  the  black  and  rocky  islet,  and  the  walls 
of  the  grey  castle  with  which  it  was  crowned. 

As  the  castle  occupied,  either  with  its  principal  buildings 
or  with  its  flanking  and  outward  walls,  every  projecting  point 
of  rock,  which  served  as  its  site,  it  seemed  as  completely  sur- 
rounded by  water  as  the  nest  of  a  wild  swan,  save  where  a 
narrow  causeway  extended  betwixt  the  islet  and  the  shore. 
But  the  fortress  was  larger  in  appearance  than  in  reality ;  and 
of  the  buildings  which  it  actually  contained,  many  had  become 
ruinous  and  uninhabitable.  In  the  times  of  the  grandeur  of 
the  Avenel  family,  these  had  been  occupied  by  a  considerable 
garrison  of  followers  and  retainers,  but  they  were  now  in  a 
great  measure  deserted;  and  Julian  Avenel  would  probably 
have  fixed  his  habitation  in  a  residence  better  suited  to  his 
diminished  fortunes,  had  it  not  been  for  the  great  security 
which  the  situation  of  the  old  castle  afforded  to  a  man  of  his 
precarious  and  perilous  mode  of  life.  Indeed,  in  this  respect 
the  spot  could  scarce  have  been  more  happily  chosen,  for  it 
could  be  rendered  almost  completely  inaccessible  at  the  pleas- 
ure of  the  inhabitant.  The  distance  betwixt  the  nearest  shore 
and  the  islet  was  not  indeed  above  an  hundred  yards ;  but  then 


THE  MONASTERY. 


289 


the  causeway  which  connected  them  was  extremely  narrow,  and 
completely  divided  by  two  cuts,  one  in  the  midway  between  the 
islet  and  shore,  and  another  close  under  the  outward  gate  of  the 
castle.  These  formed  a  formidable,  and  almost  insurmount- 
able, interruption  to  any  hostile  approach.  Each  was  de- 
fended by  a  drawbridge,  one  of  which,  being  that  nearest  to 
the  castle,  was  regularly  raised  at  all  times  during  the  day, 
and  both  were  lifted  at  night. 1 

The  situation  of  Julian  Avenel,  engaged  in  a  variety  of 
feuds,  and  a  party  to  almost  every  dark  and  mysterious  trans- 
action which  was  on  foot  in  that  wild  and  military  frontier, 
required  all  these  precautions  for  his  security.  His  own  am- 
biguous and  doubtful  course  of  policy  had  increased  these 
dangers ;  for  as  he  made  professions  to  both  parties  in  the 
state,  and  occasionally  united  more  actively  with  either  the 
one  or  the  other,  as  chanced  best  to  serve  his  immediate  pur- 
pose, he  could  not  be  said  to  have  either  firm  allies  and  pro- 
tectors or  determined  enemies.  His  life  was  a  life  of  expe- 
dients and  of  peril ;  and  while,  in  pursuit  of  his  interest,  he 
made  all  the  doubles  which  he  thought  necessary  to  attain  his 
object,  he  often  overran  his  prey,  and  missed  that  which  he 
might  have  gained  by  observing  a  straighter  course. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

I'll  walk  on  tiptoe  ;  arm  my  eye  with  caution, 

My  heart  with  courage,  and  my  hand  with  weapon, 

Like  him  who  ventures  on  a  lion's  den. 

Old  Play. 

When,  issuing  from  the  gorge  of  a  pass  which  terminated 
upon  the  lake,  the  travellers  came  in  sight  of  the  ancient  cas- 
tle of  Avenel,  the  old  man  paused,  and,  resting  upon  his  pil- 
grim staff,  looked  with  earnest  attention  upon  the  scene  before 
him.  The  castle  was,  as  we  have  said,  in  many  places  ruin- 
ous, as  was  evident,  even  at  this  distance,  by  the  broken, 
rugged,  and  irregular  outline  of  the  walls  and  of  the  towers. 
»  See  Castle  of  Avenel.   Note  17. 

19 


290 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


In  others  it  seemed  more  entire,  and  a  pillar  of  dark  smoke, 
which  ascended  from  the  chimneys  of  the  donjon,  and  spread 
its  long  dusky  pennon  through  the  clear  ether,  indicated  that 
it  was  inhabited.  But  no  cornfields  or  inclosed  pasture- 
grounds  on  the  side  of  the  lake  showed  that  provident  attention 
to  comfort  and  subsistence  which  usually  appeared  near  the 
houses  of  the  greater,  and  even  of  the  lesser,  barons.  There 
were  no  cottages  with  their  patches  of  infield,  and  their  crofts 
and  gardens,  surrounded  by  rows  of  massive  sycamores ;  no 
church  with  its  simple  tower  in  the  valley;  no  herds  of  sheep 
among  the  hills ;  no  cattle  on  the  lower  ground ;  nothing  which 
intimated  the  occasional  prosecution  of  the  arts  of  peace  and 
of  industry.  It  was  plain  that  the  inhabitants,  whether  few 
or  numerous,  must  be  considered  as  the  garrison  of  the  castle, 
living  within  its  defended  precincts,  and  subsisting  by  means 
which  were  other  than  peaceful. 

Probably  it  was  with  this  conviction  that  the  old  man,  gaz- 
ing on  the  castle,  muttered  to  himself,  "  Lapis  offensionis  et 
petra  scandali  /"  and  then,  turning  to  Halbert  Glendinning, 
he  added :  "  We  may  say  of  yonder  fort  as  King  James  did  of 
another  fastness  in  this  province,  that  he  who  built  it  was  a 
thief  in  his  heart."  1 

"  But  it  was  not  so,"  answered  Glendinning;  "yonder  castle 
was  built  by  the  old  lords  of  Avenel,  men  as  much  beloved  in 
peace  as  they  were  respected  in  war.  They  were  the  bulwark 
of  the  frontiers  against  foreigners,  and  the  protectors  of  the 
natives  from  domestic  oppression.  The  present  usurper  of 
their  inheritance  no  more  resembles  them  than  the  night- 
prowling  owl  resembles  a  falcon  because  she  builds  on  the 
same  rock." 

"This  Julian  Avenel,  then,  holds  no  high  place  in  the  love 
and  regard  of  his  neighbours?"  said  Warden. 

"So  little,"  answered  Halbert,  "that,  besides  the  jack-men 
and  riders  with  whom  he  has  associated  himself,  and  of  whom 
he  has  many  at  his  disposal,  I  know  of  few  who  voluntarily 

1  It  was  of  Loch  wood,  the  hereditary  fortress  of  the  Johnstones  of  An- 
nandale,  a  strong  castle  situated  in  the  centre  of  a  quaking  bog,  that  James 
VI.  made  this  remark. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


291 


associate  with  him.  He  has  been  more  than  once  outlawed 
both  by  England  and  Scotland,  his  lands  declared  forfeited, 
and  his  head  set  at  a  price.  But  in  these  unquiet  times  a 
man  so  daring  as  Julian  Avenel  has  ever  found  some  friends 
willing  to  protect  him  against  the  penalties  of  the  law,  on 
condition  of  his  secret  services." 

"  You  describe  a  dangerous  man,"  replied  Warden. 

"  You  may  have  experience  of  that,"  replied  the  youth,  "  if 
you  deal  not  the  more  warily ;  though  it  may  be  that  he  also 
has  forsaken  the  communion  of  the  church,  and  gone  astray  in 
the  path  of  heresy." 

"What  your  blindness  terms  the  path  of  heresy,"  answered 
the  Reformer,  "  is  indeed  the  straight  and  narrow  way,  wherein 
he  who  walks  turns  not  aside,  whether  for  worldly  wealth  or 
for  worldly  passions.  Would  to  God  this  man  were  moved  by 
no  other  and  no  worse  spirit  tha.~  that  which  prompts  my  poor 
endeavours  to  extend  the  kingdom  of  Heaven!  This  Baron  of 
Avenel  is  personally  unknown  to  me,  is  not  of  our  congrega- 
tion or  of  our  counsel ;  yet  I  bear  to  him  charges  touching 
my  safety  from  those  whom  he  must  fear  if  he  does  not  re- 
spect them,  and  upon  that  assurance  I  will  venture  upon  his 
hold.  I  am  now  sufficiently  refreshed  by  these  few  minutes  of 
repose." 

"Take,  then,  this  advice  for  your  safety,"  said  Halbert, 
"  and  believe  that  it  is  founded  upon  the  usage  of  this  country 
and  its  inhabitants.  If  you  can  better  shift  for  yourself,  go 
not  to  the  Castle  of  Avenel;  if  you  do  risk  going  thither,  ob- 
tain from  him,  if  possible,  his  safe-conduct,  and  beware  that 
he  swears  it  by  the  Black  Rood.  And  lastly,  observe  whether 
he  eats  with  you  at  the  board,  or  pledges  you  in  the  cup ;  for 
if  he  gives  you  not  these  signs  of  welcome,  his  thoughts  are 
evil  towards  you." 

"  Alas!"  said  the  preacher,  "  I  have  no  better  earthly  refuge 
for  the  present  than  these  frowning  towers,  but  I  go  thither 
trusting  to  aid  which  is  not  of  this  earth.  But  thou,  good 
youth,  needest  thou  trust  thyself  in  this  dangerous  den?" 

"I,"  answered  Halbert,  "am  in  no  danger.  I  am  well 
known  to  Christie  of  the  Clinthill,  the  henchman  of  this 


292 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Julian  Avenel;  and,  what  is  a  yet  better  protection,  I  have 
nothing  either  to  provoke  malice  or  to  tempt  plunder." 

The  tramp  of  a  steed,  which  clattered  along  the  shingly 
banks  of  the  loch,  was  now  heard  behind  them;  and,  when 
they  looked  back,  a  rider  was  visible,  his  steel  cap  and  the 
point  of  his  long  lance  glancing  in  the  setting  sun,  as  he  rode 
rapidly  towards  them. 

Halbert  Glendinning  soon  recognised  Christie  of  the  Clint- 
hill,  and  made  his  companion  aware  that  the  henchman  of 
Julian  Avenel  was  approaching. 

"  Ha,  youngling!"  said  Christie  to  Halbert,  as  he  came  up 
to  them,  "  thou  hast  made  good  my  word  at  last,  and  come  to 
take  service  with  my  noble  master,  hast  thou  not?  Thou  shalt 
find  me  a  good  friend  and  a  true ;  and  ere  St.  Barnaby  come 
round  again,  thou  shalt  know  every  pass  betwixt  Millburn 
Plain  and  Netherby,  as  if  th:a  hadst  been  born  with  a  jack 
on  thy  back  and  a  lance  in  thy  hand.  What  old  carle  hast 
thou  with  thee?  He  is  not  of  the  brotherhood  of  St.  Mary's; 
at  least  he  has  not  the  buist  of  these  black  cattle." 

"  He  is  a  wayfaring  man, "  said  Halbert,  "  who  has  concerns 
with  Julian  of  Avenel.  For  myself,  I  intend  to  go  to  Edin- 
burgh to  see  the  court  and  the  Queen,  and  when  I  return  hither 
we  will  talk  of  your  proffer.  Meantime,  as  thou  hast  often  in- 
vited me  to  the  castle,  I  crave  hospitality  there  to-night  for 
myself  and  my  companion." 

"  For  thyself,  and  welcome,  young  comrade, "  replied  Chris- 
tie ;  "  but  we  harbour  no  pilgrims,  nor  aught  that  looks  like 
a  pilgrim. " 

"  So  please  you,"  said  Warden,  "I  have  letters  of  commen- 
dation to  thy  master  from  a  sure  friend,  whom  he  will  right 
willingly  oblige  in  higher  matters  than  in  affording  me  a  brief 
protection.  And  I  am  no  pilgrim,  but  renounce  the  same, 
with  all  its  superstitious  observances." 

He  offered  his  letters  to  the  horseman,  who  shook  his 
head. 

"  These,"  he  said,  "  are  matters  for  my  master,  and  it  will  be 
well  if  he  can  read  them  himself ;  for  me,  sword  and  lance  are 
my  book  and  psalter,  and  have  been  since  I  was  twelve  years 


THE  MONASTERY. 


293 


old.  But  I  will  guide  you  to  the  castle,  and  the  Baron  of 
Avenel  will  himself  judge  of  your  errand." 

By  this  time  the  party  had  reached  the  causeway,  along 
which  Christie  advanced  at  a  trot,  intimating  his  presence  to 
the  warders  within  the  castle  by  a  shrill  and  peculiar  whistle. 
At  this  signal  the  farther  drawbridge  was  lowered.  The  horse- 
man passed  it,  and  disappeared  under  the  gloomy  portal  which 
was  beyond  it. 

Glendinning  and  his  companion,  advancing  more  leisurely 
along  the  rugged  causeway,  stood  at  length  under  the  same 
gateway,  over  which  frowned  in  dark  red  freestone  the  ancient 
armorial  bearings  of  the  house  of  Avenel,  which  represented  a 
female  figure  shrouded  and  muffled,  which  occupied  the  whole 
field. 1  The  cause  of  their  assuming  so  singular  a  device  was 
uncertain,  but  the  figure  was  generally  supposed  to  represent 
the  mysterious  being  called  the  White  Lady  of  Avenel.  The 
sight  of  this  mouldering  shield  awakened  in  the  mind  of  Hal- 
bert  the  strange  circumstances  which  had  connected  his  fate 
with  that  of  Mary  Avenel,  and  with  the  doings  of  the  spiritual 
being  who  was  attached  to  her  house,  and  whom  he  saw  here 
represented  in  stone,  as  he  had  before  seen  her  effigy  upon  the 
seal  ring  of  Walter  Avenel,  which,  with  other  trinkets  former- 
ly mentioned,  had  been  saved  from  pillage  and  brought  to  Glen- 
dearg,  when  Mary's  mother  was  driven  from  her  habitation. 

"  You  sigh,  my  son, "  said  the  old  man,  observing  the  im- 
pression made  on  his  youthful  companion's  countenance,  but 
mistaking  the  cause;  ".if  you  fear  to  enter,  we  may  yet  re- 
turn. " 

"  That  can  you  not, "  said  Christie  of  the  Clinthill,  who 
emerged  at  that  instant  from  the  side  door  under  the  archway. 
"  Look  yonder,  and  choose  whether  you  will  return  skimming 
the  water  like  a  wild  duck,  or  winging  the  air  like  a  plover." 

They  looked,  and  saw  that  the  drawbridge  which  they  had 
just  crossed  was  again  raised,  and  now  interposed  its  planks 
betwixt  the  setting  sun  and  the  portal  of  the  castle,  deepening 

1  There  is  an  ancient  English  family,  I  believe,  which  bears,  or  did  bear, 
a  ghost  or  spirit  passant  sable  in  a  field  argent.  This  seems  to  have  been 
a  device  of  a  punning  or  "  canting  "  herald. 


294 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  gloom  of  the  arch  under  which  they  stood.  Christie 
laughed,  and  bid  them  follow  him,  saying,  by  way  of  encour- 
agement, in  Halbert's  ear:  "Answer  boldly  and  readily  to 
whatever  the  Baron  asks  you.  Never  stop  to  pick  your  words, 
and  above  all  show  no  fear  of  him :  the  devil  is  not  so  black 
as  he  is  painted." 

As  he  spoke  thus,  he  introduced  them  into  the  large  stone 
hall,  at  the  upper  end  of  which  blazed  a  huge  fire  of  wood. 
The  long  oaken  table,  which,  as  usual,  occupied  the  midst  of 
the  apartment,  was  covered  with  rude  preparations  for  the 
evening  meal  of  the  Baron  and  his  chief  domestics,  five  or  six 
of  whom,  strong,  athletic,  savage-looking  men,  paced  up  and 
down  the  lower  end  of  the  hall,  which  rang  to  the  jarring 
clang  of  their  long  swords  that  clashed  as  they  moved,  and  to 
the  heavy  tramp  of  their  high-heeled  jack-boots.  Iron  jacks, 
or  coats  of  buff,  formed  the  principal  part  of  their  dress,  and 
steel  bonnets,  or  large  slouched  hats  with  Spanish  plumes 
drooping  backwards,  were  their  head  attire. 

The  Baron  of  Avenel  was  one  of  those  tall,  muscular,  mar- 
tial figures  which  are  the  favourite  subjects  of  Salvator  Rosa. 
He  wore  a  cloak  which  had  been  once  gaily  trimmed,  but 
which,  by  long  wear  and  frequent  exposure  to  the  weather,  was 
now  faded  in  its  colours.  Thrown  negligently  about  his  tall 
person,  it  partly  hid  and  partly  showed  a  short  doublet  of 
buff,  under  which  was  in  some  places  visible  that  light  shirt 
of  mail  which  was  called  a  " secret,"  because  worn  instead  of 
more  ostensible  armour,  to  protect  against  private  assassina- 
tion. A  leathern  belt  sustained  a  large  and  heavy  sword  on 
one  side,  and  on  the  other  that  gay  poniard  which  had  once 
called  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  master,  of  which  the  hatchments 
and  gildings  were  already  much  defaced,  either  by  rough  usage 
or  neglect. 

Notwithstanding  the  rudeness  of  his  apparel,  Julian  Ave- 
nel's  manner  and  countenance  had  far  more  elevation  than 
those  of  the  attendants  who  surrounded  him.  He  might  be 
fifty  or  upwards,  for  his  dark  hair  was  mingled  with  grey, 
but  age  had  neither  tamed  the  fire  of  his  eye  nor  the  enter- 
prise of  his  disposition.    His  countenance  had  been  hand- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


295 


some,-  for  beauty  v.  attribute  of  the  family ;  but  the  lines 
were  roughened  by  fatigue  and  exposure  to  the  weather,  and 
rendered  coarse  by  the  habitual  indulgence  of  violent  pas- 
sions. 

He  seemed  in  deep  and  moody  reflection,  and  was  pacing  at 
a  distance  from  his  dependants  along  the  upper  end  of  the 
hall,  sometimes  stopping  from  time  to  time  to  caress  and  feed 
a  goshawk,  which  sat  upon  his  wrist,  with  its  jesses  (i.e.  the 
leathern  straps  fixed  to  its  legs)  wrapt  around  his  hand.  The 
bird,  which  seemed  not  insensible  to  its  master's  attention, 
answered  his  caresses  by  ruffling  forward  its  feathers  and  peck- 
ing playfully  at  his  finger.  At  such  intervals  the  Baron 
smiled,  but  instantly  resumed  the  darksome  air  of  sullen 
meditation.  He  did  not  even  deign  to  look  upon  an  object 
which  few  could  have  passed  and  repassed  so  often  without 
bestowing  on  it  a  transient  glance. 

This  was  a  woman  of  exceeding  beauty,  rather  gaily  than 
richly  attired,  who  sat  on  a  low  seat  close  by  the  huge  hall 
chimney.  The  gold  chains  round  her  neck  and  arms ;  the  gay 
gown  of  green  which  swept  the  floor ;  the  silver-embroidered 
girdle,  with  its  bunch  of  keys,  depending  in  housewifely  pride 
by  a  silver  chain;  the  yellow  silken  couvre-chef  (Scottice, 
curch)  which  was  disposed  around  her  Jb/^a^,  and  partly  con- 
cealed her  dark  profusion  of  hair ;  &76ove  all,  the  circumstances 
so  delicately  touched  in  the >  ^icl  ballad,  that  "  the  girdle  was 
too  short,"  the  "  gown  of  ^feen  all  too  strait,"  for  the  wearer's 
present  shape,  would  hajve  intimated  the  Baron's  lady.  But 
then  the  lowly  seat ;  thie  expression  of  deep  melancholy,  which 
was  changed  into  a/^cimid  smile  whenever  she  saw  the  least 
chance  of  catching/the  eye  of  Julian  Avenel;  the  subdued  look 
of  grief,  and  th^'  starting  tear  for  which  that  constrained  smile 
was  again  exchanged  when  she  saw  herself  entirely  disregarded 
— these  were  riot  the  attributes  of  a  wife,  or  [rather]  they  were 
those  of  a  dejected  and  afflicted  female  who  had  yielded  her  love 
on  less  tharj  legitimate  terms. 

Julian  Axenel,  as  we  have  said,  continued  to  pace  the  hall 
without  payiig  any  of  that  mute  attention  which  is  rendered 
to  almost  ewery  female  either  by  affection  or  courtesy.  He 


296 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


seemed  totally  unconscious  of  her  presence,  or  of  that  of  his 
attendants,  and  was  only  roused  from  his  own  dark  reflections 
by  the  notice  he  paid  to  the  falcon,  to  which,  however,  the 
lady  seemed  to  attend,  as  if  studying  to  find  either  an  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  to  the  Baron,  or  of  findigg  something  enig- 
matical in  the  expressions  which  he  used  to  the  bird.  All  this 
the  strangers  had  time  enough  to  remark ;  for  no  sooner  had 
they  entered  the  apartment  than  their  usher,  Christie  of  the 
Clin  thill,  after  exchanging  a  significant  glance  with  the  me- 
nials or  troopers  at  the  lower  end  of  the  apartment,  signed  to 
Halbert  Glendinning  and  to  his  companion  to  stand  still  near 
the  door,  while  he  himself,  advancing  nearer  the  table,  placed 
himself  in  such  a  situation  as  to  catch  the  Baron's  observation 
when  he  should  be  disposed  to  look  around,  but  without  pre- 
suming to  intrude  himself  on  his  master's  notice.  Indeed, 
the  look  of  this  man,  naturally  bold,  hardy,  and  audacious, 
seemed  totally  changed  when  he  was  in  presence  of  his  lord, 
and  resembled  the  dejected  and  cowering  manner  of  a  quar- 
relsome dog  when  rebuked  by  his  owner,  or  when  he  finds  him- 
self obliged  to  deprecate  the  violence  of  a  superior  adversary 
of  his  own  species. 

In„spite  of  the  novelty  of  his  own  situation,  and  every  pain- 
tul  feeling  comiecU1  fW^^  Halbert  felt  his  curiosity  inter- 
ested in  the  female  whcT^by  the  chimney  unnoticed  and 
unreguarded.  He  marked  wMiM^  keen  and  trembling  solic- 
itude she  watched  the  broken  wordte  of  Julian,  and  how  her 
glance  stole  towards  him,  ready  to  beVerted  upon  the  slight- 
est chance  of  his  perceiving  himself  to  Hje  watched. 

Meantime,  he  went  on  with  his  dalliance  with  his  feathered 
favourite,  now  giving,  now  withholding,  theS^orsel  with  which 
he  was  about  to  feed  the  bird,  and  so  exciting  appetite  and 
gratifying  it  by  turns.  "What!  more  yet?  '^ou  foul  kite, 
thou  wouldst  never  have  done :  give  thee  part  tBou  wilt  have 
all.  Ay,  prune  thy  feathers,  and  prink  thyself \  gay— much 
thou  wilt  make  of  it  now;  dost  think  I  know  the^.not?  dost 
think  I  see  not  that  all  that  ruffling  and  pluming  of  wing  and 
feathers  is  not  for  thy  master,  but  to  try  what  thou  canst 


make  of  him,  thou  greedy  gled?    Well— there— V&e  it  then, 


A  th 


THE  MONASTERY. 


297 


and  rejoice  thyself;  little  boon  goes  far  with  thee,  and  with 
all  thy  sex — and  so  it  should." 

He  ceased  to  look  on  the  bird,  and  again  traversed  the 
apartment.  Then  taking  another  small  piece  of  raw  meat 
from  the  trencher,  on  which  it  was  placed  ready  cut  for  his 
use,  he  began  once  again  to  tempt  and  tease  the  bird,  by 
offering  and  withdrawing  it,  until  he  awakened  its  wild  and 
bold  disposition.  "What!  struggling,  fluttering,  aiming  at 
me  with  beak  and  single?1  So  la!  so  la!  wouldst  mount? 
wouldst  fly?  the  jesses  are  round  thy  clutches,  fool:  thou 
canst  neither  stir  nor  soar,  but  by  my  will.  Beware  thou 
come  to  reclaim,  wench,  else  I  will  wring  thy  head  off  one  of 
these  days.  Well,  have  it  then,  and  welfare  thou  with  it. 
So  ho,  Jenkin!"  One  of  the  attendants  stepped  forward. 
"  Take  the  foul  gled  hence  to  the  mew — or,  stay,  leave  her, 
but  look  well  to  her  casting  and  to  her  bathing ;  we  will  see 
her  fly  to-morrow.    How  now,  Christie,  so  soon  returned?" 

Christie  advanced  to  his  master,  and  gave  an  account  of 
himself  and  his  journey,  in  the  way  in  which  a  police-officer 
holds  communication  with  his  magistrate,  that  is,  as  much 
by  signs  as  by  words. 

"  Noble  sir, 99  said  that  worthy  satellite,  "  the  Laird  of  , 99 

he  named  no  place,  but  pointed  with  his  finger  in  a  southwest- 
ern direction,  "  may  not  ride  with  you  the  day  he  purposed, 
because  the  Lord  Warden  has  threatened  that  he  will  99 

Here  another  blank,  intelligibly  enough  made  up  by  the 
speaker  touching  his  own  neck  with  his  left  forefinger,  and 
leaning  his  head  a  little  to  one  side. 

" Cowardly  caitiff !"  said  Julian.  " By  Heaven!  the  whole 
world  turns  sheer  naught — it  is  not  worth  a  brave  man's  liv- 
ing in ;  ye  may  ride  a  day  and  night,  and  never  see  a  feather 
wave  or  hear  a  horse  prance ;  the  spirit  of  our  fathers  is  dead 
amongst  us — the  very  brutes  are  degenerated — the  cattle  we 
bring  home  at  our  life's  risk  are  mere  carrion — our  hawks  are 
riflers — our  hounds  are  turnspits  and  trindle-tails — our  men 
are  women — and  our  women  are  " 


1  In  the  kindly  language  of  hawking,  as  Lady  Juliana  Berners  terms  it, 
hawks'  talons  are  called  singles. 


298 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


He  looked  at  the  female  for  the  first  time,  and  stopped  short 
in  the  midst  of  what  he  was  about  to  say,  though  there  was 
something  so  contemptuous  in  the  glance  that  the  blank  might 
have  been  thus  filled  up:  "Our  women  are  such  as  she  is." 

He  said  it  not,  however,  and,  as  if  desirous  of  attracting  his 
attention  at  all  risks,  and  in  whatever  manner,  she  rose  and 
came  forward  to  him,  but  with  a  timorousness  ill-disguised 
by  affected  gaiety.  "  Our  women,  Julian — what  would  you 
say  of  the  women?" 

"Nothing,"  answered  Julian  Avenel,  "at  least  nothing  but 
that  they  are  kind-hearted  wenches  like  thyself,  Kate."  The 
female  coloured  deeply,  and  returned  to  her  seat.  "  And  what 
strangers  hast  thou  brought  with  thee,  Christie,  that  stand 
yonder  like  two  stone  statues?"  said  the  Baron. 

"  The  taller,"  answered  Christie,  "  is,  so  please  you,  a  young 
fellow  called  Halbert  Glendinning,  the  eldest  son  of  the  old 
widow  at  Glendearg." 

"  What  brings  him  here?"  said  the  Baron.  "  Hath  he  any 
message  from  Mary  Avenel?" 

"Not  as  I  think,"  said  Christie;  "the  youth  is  roving  the 
country :  he  was  always  a  wild  slip,  for  I  have  known  him 
since  he  was  the  height  of  my  sword." 

"  What  qualities  hath  he?"  said  the  Baron. 

"All  manner  of  qualities,"  answered  his  follower:  "he  can 
strike  a  buck,  track  a  deer,  fly  a  hawk,  halloo  to  a  hound ;  he 
shoots  in  the  long  and  cross-bow  to  a  hair's -breadth,  wields  a 
lance  or  sword  like  myself  nearly,  backs  a  horse  manfully  and 
fairly ;  I  wot  not  what  more  a  man  need  to  do  to  make  him  a 
gallant  companion." 

"And  who,"  said  the  Baron,  "  is  the  old  miser1  who  stands 
beside  him?" 

"  Some  cast  of  a  priest  as  I  fancy ;  he  says  he  is  charged 
with  letters  to  you. " 

"Bid  them  come  forward,"  said  the  Baron;  and  no  sooner 
had  they  approached  him  more  nearly,  than,  struck  by  the 
fine  form  and  strength  displayed  by  Halbert  Glendinning,  he 

1  Used  in  the  sense  in  which  it  often  occurs  in  Spenser,  and  which  is 
indeed  its  literal  import,  44  wretched  old  man." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


299 


addressed  him  thus :  "  I  am  told,  young  swankie,  that  you  are 
roaming  the  world  to  seek  your  fortune;  if  you  will  serve 
Julian  Avenel,  you  may  find  it  without  going  farther. " 

"So  please  you,"  answered  Glendinning,  "something  has 
chanced  to  me  that  makes  it  better  I  should  leave  this  land, 
and  I  am  bound  for  Edinburgh." 

"What!  thou  hast  stricken  some  of  the  king's  deer,  I  war- 
rant; or  lightened  the  meadows  of  St.  Mary's  of  some  of  their 
beeves;  or  thou  hast  taken  a  moonlight  leap  over  the  Border?" 

"No,  sir,"  said  Halbert,  "my  case  is  entirely  different." 

"Then  I  warrant  thee,"  said  the  Baron,  "thou  hast  stabbed 
some  brother  churl  in  a  fray  about  a  wench ;  thou  art  a  likely 
lad  to  wrangle  in  such  a  cause. " 

Ineffably  disgusted  at  his  tone  and  manner,  Halbert  Glen- 
dinning remained  silent,  while  the  thought  darted  across  his 
mind,  what  would  Julian  Avenel  have  said,  had  he  known  the 
quarrel,  of  which  he  spoke  so  lightly,  had  arisen  on  account 
of  his  own  brother's  daughter!  "But  be  thy  cause  of  flight 
what  it  will,"  said  Julian,  in  continuation,  "  dost  thou  think 
the  law  or  its  emissaries  can  follow  thee  into  this  island,  or 
arrest  thee  under  the  standard  of  Avenel  ?  Look  at  the  depth 
of  the  lake,  the  strength  of  the  walls,  the  length  of  the  cause- 
way ;  look  at  my  men,  and  think  if  they  are  likely  to  see  a 
comrade  injured,  or  if  I,  their  master,  am  a  man  to  desert  a 
faithful  follower,  in  good  or  evil.  I  tell  thee,  it  shall  be  an 
eternal  day  of  truce  betwixt  thee  and  justice,  as  they  call  it, 
from  the  instant  thou  hast  put  my  colours  into  thy  cap :  thou 
shalt  ride  by  the  warden's  nose  as  thou  wouldst  pass  an  old 
market-woman,  and  ne'er  a  cur  which  follows  him  shall  dare 
to  bay  at  thee!" 

"I  thank  you  for  your  offers,  noble  sir,"  replied  Halbert, 
"  but  I  must  answer  in  brief,  that  I  cannot  profit  by  them ; 
my  fortunes  lead  me  elsewhere." 

"Thou  art  a  self-willed  fool  for  thy  pains,"  said  Julian, 
turning  from  him ;  and  signing  Christie  to  approach,  he  whis- 
pered in  his  ear:  "There  is  promise  in  that  young  fellow's 
looks,  Christie,  and  we  want  men  of  limbs  and  sinews  so  com- 
pacted ;  those  thou  hast  brought  to  me  of  late  are  the  mere 


300 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


refuse  of  mankind,  wretches  scarce  worth  the  arrow  that  ends 
them:  this  youngster  is  limbed  like  St.  George.  Ply  him 
with  wine  and  wassail;  let  the  wenches  weave  their  meshes 
about  him  like  spiders — thou  understandest?"  Christie  gave 
a  sagacious  nod  of  intelligence,  and  fell  back  to  a  respectful 
distance  from  his  master.  "And  thou,  old  man,"  said  the 
Baron,  turning  to  the  elder  traveller,  "  hast  thou  been  roam- 
ing the  world  after  fortune  too?  it  seems  not  she  has  fallen 
into  thy  way." 

"  So  please  you, "  replied  Warden,  "  I  were  perhaps  more  to 
be  pitied  than  I  am  now  had  I  indeed  met  with  that  fortune 
which,  like  others,  I  have  sought  in  my  greener  days." 

"Nay,  understand  me,  friend,"  said  the  Baron;  "if  thou 
art  satisfied  with  thy  buckram  gown  and  long  staff,  I  also  am 
well  content  thou  shouldst  be  as  poor  and  contemptible  as  is 
good  for  the  health  of  thy  body  and  soul.  All  I  care  to  know 
of  thee  is,  the  cause  which  hath  brought  thee  to  my  castle, 
where  few  crows  of  thy  kind  care  to  settle.  Thou  art,  I  war- 
rant thee,  some  ejected  monk  of  a  suppressed  convent,  paying 
in  his  old  days  the  price  of  the  luxurious  idleness  in  which  he 
spent  his  youth.  Ay,  or  it  may  be  some  pilgrim  with  a  bud- 
get of  lies  from  St.  James  of  Compostella  or  Our  Lady  of  Lo- 
retto;  or  thou  mayest  be  some  pardoner  with  his  budget  of 
relics  from  Koine,  forgiving  sins  at  a  penny  a  dozen,  and  one 
to  the  tale.  Ay,  I  guess  why  I  find  thee  in  this  boy's  com- 
pany, and  doubtless  thou  wouldst  have  such  a  strapping  lad 
as  he  to  carry  thy  wallet,  and  relieve  thy  lazy  shoulders ;  but, 
by  the  mass,  I  will  cross  thy  cunning.  I  make  my  vow  to 
sun  and  moon,  I  will  not  see  a  proper  lad  so  misleard  as  to  run 
the  country  with  an  old  knave,  like  Simmie  and  his  brother. 
Away  with  thee!"  he  added,  rising  in  wrath,  and  speaking  so 
fast  as  to  give  no  opportunity  of  answer,  being  probably  de- 
termined to  terrify  the  elder  guest  into  an  abrupt  flight — 
"  away  with  thee,  with  thy  clouted  coat,  scrip,  and  scallop- 
shell,  or,  by  the  name  of  Avenel,  I  will  have  them  loose  the 
hounds  on  thee!" 

Warden  waited  with  the  greatest  patience  until  Julian  Ave- 
nel, astonished  that  the  threats  and  violence  of  his  language 


THE  MONASTERY. 


301 


made  no  impression  on  him,  paused  in  a  sort  of  wonder,  and 
said  in  a  less  imperious  tone:  "Why  the  fiend  dost  thou  not 
answer  me?" 

"  When  you  have  done  speaking,"  said  Warden,  in  the  same 
composed  manner,  "  it  will  be  full  time  to  reply. 99 

"  Say  on,  man,  in  the  devil's  name;  but  take  heed — beg  not 
here — were  it  but  for  the  rinds  of  cheese,  the  refuse  of  the 
rats,  or  a  morsel  that  my  dogs  would  turn  from — neither  a 
grain  of  meal,  nor  the  nineteenth  part  of  a  grey  groat,  will  I 
give  to  any  feigned  limmar  of  thy  coat." 

"It  may  be,"  answered  Warden,  "that  you  would  have  less 
quarrel  with  my  coat  if  you  knew  what  it  covers.  I  am  neither 
friar  nor  mendicant,  and  would  be  right  glad  to  hear  thy  testi- 
mony against  these  foul  deceivers  of  God's  church,  and  usurp- 
ers of  His  rights  over  the  Christian  flock,  were  it  given  in 
Christian  charity." 

"  And  who  or  what  art  thou,  then, "  said  Avenel,  "  that  thou 
comest  to  this  Borderland,  and  art  neither  monk,  nor  soldier, 
nor  broken  man?" 

"  I  am  an  humble  teacher  [preacher]  of  the  Holy  Word, " 
answered  Warden.  "  This  letter  from  a  most  noble  person 
will  speak  why  I  am  here  at  this  present  time." 

He  delivered  the  letter  to  the  Baron,  who  regarded  the  seal 
with  some  surprise,  and  then  looked  on  the  letter  itself,  which 
seemed  to  excite  still  more.  He  then  fixed  his  eyes  on  the 
stranger,  and  said,  in  a  menacing  tone :  "  I  think  thou  darest 
not  betray  me  or  deceive  me?" 

"  I  am  not  the  man  to  attempt  either,"  was  the  concise  reply. 

Julian  Avenel  carried  the  letter  to  the  window,  where  he 
perused,  or  at  least  attempted  to  peruse,  it  more  than  once, 
often  looking  from  the  paper  and  gazing  on  the  stranger  who 
had  delivered  it,  as  if  he  meant  to  read  the  purport  of  the 
missive  in  the  face  of  the  messenger.  Julian  at  length  called 
to  the  female :  "  Catherine,  bestir  thee,  and  fetch  me  presently 
that  letter  which  I  bade  thee  keep  ready  at  hand  in  thy  casket, 
having  no  sure  lockfast  place  of  my  own." 

Catherine  went  with  the  readiness  of  one  willing  to  be  em- 
ployed; and  as  she  walked,  the  situation  which  requires  a 


302 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


wider  gown  and  a  longer  girdle,  and  in  which  woman  claims 
from  man  a  double  portion  of  the  most  anxious  care,  was  still 
more  visible  than  before.  She  soon  returned  with  the  paper, 
and  was  rewarded  with  a  cold,  "  I  thank  thee,  wench ;  thou 
art  a  careful  secretary." 

This  second  paper  he  also  perused  and  reperused  more  than 
once,  and  still,  as  he  read  it,  bent  from  time  to  time  a  wary 
and  observant  eye  upon  Henry  Warden.  This  examination 
and  re-examination,  though  both  the  man  and  the  place  were 
dangerous,  the  preacher  endured  with  the  most  composed  and 
steady  countenance,  seeming,  under  the  eagle,  or  rather  the  vul- 
ture, eye  of  the  Baron,  as  unmoved  as  under  the  gaze  of  an  or- 
dinary and  peaceful  peasant.  At  length  Julian  Avenel  folded 
both  papers,  and  having  put  them  into  the  pocket  of  his  cloak, 
cleared  his  brow,  and,  coming  forward,  addressed  his  female 
companion.  "Catherine,"  said  he,  "I  have  done  this  good 
man  injustice,  when  I  mistook  him  for  one  of  the  drones  of 
Eome.  He  is  a  preacher,  Catherine — a  preacher  of  the — the 
new  doctrine  of  the  Lords  of  the  Congregation." 

"  The  doctrine  of  the  blessed  Scriptures, "  said  the  preacher, 
"purified  from  the  devices  of  men." 

" Sayest  thou?"  said  Julian  Avenel.  "Well,  thou  mayest 
call  it  what  thou  lists ;  but  to  me  it  is  recommended  because 
it  flings  off  all  those  sottish  dreams  about  saints  and  angels 
and  devils,  and  unhorses  the  lazy  monks  that  have  ridden  us 
so  long,  and  spur-galled  us  so  hard.  No  more  masses  and 
corpse-gifts ;  no  more  tithes  and  offerings  to  make  men  poor ; 
no  more  prayers  or  psalms  to  make  men  cowards ;  no  more 
christenings  and  penances,  and  confessions  and  marriages." 

"  So  please  you, "  said  Henry  Warden,  "  it  is  against  the 
corruptions,  not  against  the  fundamental  doctrines,  of  the 
church,  which  we  desire  to  renovate,  and  not  to  abolish." 

"  Prithee,  peace,  man, "  said  the  Baron ;  "  we  of  the  laity 
care  not  what  you  set  up,  so  you  pull  merrily  down  what 
stands  in  our  way.  Specially  it  suits  well  with  us  of  the 
southland  fells ;  for  it  is  our  profession  to  turn  the  world  up- 
side down,  and  we  live  ever  the  blythest  life  when  the  downer 
side  is  uppermost." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


303 


Warden  would  have  replied ;  but  the  Baron  allowed  him  not 
time,  striking  the  table  with  the  hilt  of  his  dagger,  and  crying 
out :  "  Ha!  you  loitering  knaves,  bring  our  supper  meal  quick- 
ly. See  you  not  this  holy  man  is  exhausted  for  lack  of  food? 
Heard  ye  ever  of  priest  or  preacher  that  devoured  not  his  five 
meals  a  day?" 

The  attendants  bustled  to  and  fro,  and  speedily  brought  in 
several  large  smoking  platters,  filled  with  huge  pieces  of  beef, 
boiled  and  roasted,  but  without  any  variety  whatsoever,  with- 
out vegetables,  and  almost  without  bread,  though  there  was  at 
the  upper  end  a  few  oat-cakes  in  a  basket. 

Julian  Avenel  made  a  sort  of  apology  to  Warden.  "  You 
have  been  commended  to  our  care,  sir  preacher,  since  that  is 
your  style,  by  a  person  whom  we  highly  honour." 

"I  am  assured,"  said  Warden,  "that  the  most  noble 
Lord  " 

"Prithee,  peace,  man,"  said  Avenel;  "what  need  of  nam- 
ing names,  so  we  understand  each  other?  I  meant  but  to 
speak  in  reference  to  your  safety  and  comfort,  of  which  he 
desires  us  to  be  chary.  Now,  for  your  safety,  look  at  my 
walls  and  water.  But  touching  your  comfort,  we  have  no 
corn  of  our  own,  and  the  meal-girnels  of  the  south  are  less 
easily  transported  than  their  beeves,  seeing  they  have  no 
legs  to  walk  upon.  But  what  though?  a  stoup  of  wine  thou 
shalt  have,  and  of  the  best ;  thou  shalt  sit  betwixt  Catherine 
and  me  at  the  board-end.  And,  Christie,  do  thou  look  to 
the  young  springald,  and  call  to  the  cellarer  for  a  flagon  of 
the  best." 

The  Baron  took  his  wonted  place  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
board;  his  Catherine  sate  down,  and  courteously  pointed  to  a 
seat  betwixt  them  for  their  reverend  guest.  But,  notwith- 
standing the  influence  both  of  hunger  and  fatigue,  Henry 
Warden  retained  his  standing  posture. 


304 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

When  lovely  woman  stoops  to  folly, 
And  finds  too  late  that  men  betray  

Julian  Avenel  saw  with  surprise  the  demeanour  of  the 
reverend  stranger.  "  Beshrew  me/'  he  said,  "these  new-fash- 
ioned religioners  have  fast-days,  I  warrant  me ;  the  old  ones 
used  to  confer  these  blessings  chiefly  on  the  laity." 

"  We  acknowledge  no  such  rule,"  said  the  preacher.  "  We 
hold  that  our  faith  consists  not  in  using  or  abstaining  from 
special  meats  on  special  days;  and  in  fasting  we  rend  our 
hearts,  and  not  our  garments." 

"  The  better — the  better  for  yourselves,  and  the  worse  for 
Tom  Tailor,"  said  the  Baron;  "but  come,  sit  down,  or,  if 
thou  needs  must  e'en  give  us  a  cast  of  thine  office,  mutter  thy 
charm." 

"  Sir  Baron, "  said  the  preacher,  "  I  am  in  a  strange  land, 
where  neither  mine  office  nor  my  doctrine  are  known,  and 
where,  it  would  seem,  both  are  greatly  misunderstood.  It  is 
my  duty  so  to  bear  me  that  in  my  person,  however  unworthy, 
my  Master's  dignity  may  be  respected,  and  that  sin  may  take 
no  confidence  from  relaxation  of  the  bonds  of  discipline." 

"Ho  la!  halt  there,"  said  the  Baron;  "thou  wert  sent 
hither  for  thy  safety,  but  not,  I  think,  to  preach  to  or  control 
me.  What  is  it  thou  wouldst  have,  sir  preacher?  Remember 
thou  speakest  to  one  somewhat  short  of  patience,  who  loves  a 
short  health  and  a  long  draught." 

"In  a  word,  then,"  said  Henry  Warden,  "that  lady  " 

"How!"  said  the  Baron,  starting — "what  of  her?  What 
hast  thou  to  say  of  that  dame?" 

"Is  she  thy  house -dame?"  said  the  preacher,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  in  which  he  seemed  to  seek  for  the  best  mode  of 
expressing  what  he  had  to  say — "is  she,  in  brief,  thy  wife?" 

The  unfortunate  young  woman  pressed  both  her  hands  on 
her  face,  as  if  to  hide  it,  but  the  deep  blush  which  crimsoned 
her  brow  and  neck  showed  that  her  cheeks  were  also  glowing ; 


THE  MONASTERY. 


305 


and  the  bursting  tears,  which  found  their  way  betwixt  her 
slender  fingers,  bore  witness  to  her  sorrow,  as  well  as  to  her 
shame. 

"Now,  by  my  father's  ashes!"  said  the  Baron,  rising  and 
spurning  from  him  his  footstool  with  such  violence  that  it  hit 
the  wall  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  apartment ;  then  instantly 
constraining  himself,  he  muttered :  "  What  need  to  run  myself 
into  trouble  for  a  fool's  word?"  Then  resuming  his  seat,  he 
answered  coldly  and  scornfully :  "  No,  sir  priest  or  sir  preacher, 
Catherine  is  not  my  wife — Cease  thy  whimpering,  thou  foolish 
wench! — She  is  not  my  wife,  but  sha  is  handfasted  with  me, 
and  that  makes  her  as  honest  a  woman." 

"Handfasted!"  repeated  Warden. 

"Knowest  thou  not  that  rite,  holy  man?"  said  Avenel,  in 
the  same  tone  of  derision ;  "  then  I  will  tell  thee.  We  Border 
men  are  more  wary  than  your  inland  clowns  of  Fife  and  Lo- 
thian :  no  jump  in  the  dark  for  us,  no  clenching  the  fetters 
around  our  wrists  till  we  know  how  they  will  wear  with  us : 
we  take  our  wives,  like  our  horses,  upon  trial.  When  we  are 
handfasted,  as  we  term  it,  we  are  man  and  wife  for  a  year 
and  day ;  that  space  gone  by,  each  may  choose  another  mate, 
or,  at  their  pleasure,  may  call  the  priest  to  marry  them  for 
life;  and  this  we  call  handf asting. "  1 

"  Then, "  said  the  preacher,  "  I  tell  thee,  noble  Baron,  in 
brotherly  love  to  thy  soul,  it  is  a  custom  licentious,  gross,  and 
corrupted,  and,  if  persisted  in,  dangerous,  yea  damnable.  It 
binds  thee  to  the  frailer  being  while  she  is  the  object  of  desire; 
it  relieves  thee  when  she  is  most  the  subject  of  pity ;  it  gives 
all  to  brutal  sense,  and  nothing  to  generous  and  gentle  affec- 
tion. I  say  to  thee,  that  he  who  can  meditate  the  breach  of 
such  an  engagement,  abandoning  the  deluded  woman  and  the 
helpless  offspring,  is  worse  than  the  birds  of  prey;  for  of 
them  the  males  remain  with  their  mates  until  the  nestlings 
can  take  wing.  Above  all,  I  say  it  is  contrary  to  the  pure 
Christian  doctrine,  which  assigns  woman  to  man  as  the  part- 
ner of  his  labour,  the  soother  of  his  evil,  his  helpmate  in  peril, 
his  friend  in  affliction;  not  as  the  toy  of  his  looser  hours, 
»  See  Note  18. 

20 


306 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


or  as  a  flower  which,  once  cropped,  he  may  throw  aside  at 
pleasure. " 

"Now,  by  the  saints,  a  most  virtuous  homily!"  said  the 
Baron ;  "  quaintly  conceived  and  curiously  pronounced,  and  to 
a  well-chosen  congregation.  Hark  ye,  sir  gospeller!  trow  ye 
to  have  a  fool  in  hand?  Know  I  not  that  your  sect  rose  by 
bluff  Harry  Tudor,  merely  because  ye  aided  him  to  change  his 
Kate;  and  wherefore  should  I  not  use  the  same  Christian 
liberty  with  mine?  Tush,  man!  bless  the  good  food,  and 
meddle  not  with  what  concerns  thee  not ;  thou  hast  no  gull  in 
Julian  Avenel." 

"  He  hath  gulled  and  cheated  himself, "  said  the  preacher, 
"  should  he  even  incline  to  do  that  poor  sharer  of  his  domestic 
cares  the  imperfect  justice  that  remains  to  him.  Can  he  now 
raise  her  to  the  rank  of  a  pure  and  uncontaminated  matron? 
Can  he  deprive  his  child  of  the  misery  of  owing  birth  to  a 
mother  who  has  erred.  He  can  indeed  give  them  both  the 
rank,  the  state  of  married  wife  and  of  lawful  son;  but,  in 
public  opinion,  their  names  will  be  smirched  and  sullied  with 
a  stain  which  his  tardy  efforts  cannot  entirely  efface.  Yet 
render  it  to  them,  Baron  of  Avenel — render  to  them  this  late 
and  imperfect  justice.  Bid  me  bind  you  together  for  ever, 
and  celebrate  the  day  of  your  bridal,  not  with  feasting  or 
wassail,  but  with  sorrow  for  past  sin,  and  the  resolution  to 
commence  a  better  life.  Happy  then  will  the  chance  have 
been  that  has  drawn  me  to  this  castle,  though  I  come  driven 
by  calamity,  and  unknowing  where  my  course  is  bound,  like 
a  leaf  travelling  on  the  north  wind." 

The  plain,  and  even  coarse,  features  of  the  zealous  speaker 
were  warmed  at  once  and  ennobled  by  the  dignity  of  his  en- 
thusiasm; and  the  wild  Baron,  lawless  as  he  was,  and  accus- 
tomed to  spurn  at  the  control  whether  of  religious  or  moral 
law,  felt,  for  the  first  time  perhaps  in  his  life,  that  he  was 
under  subjection  to  a  mind  superior  to  his  own.  He  sat  mute 
and  suspended  in  his  deliberations,  hesitating  betwixt  anger 
and  shame,  yet  borne  down  by  the  weight  of  the  just  rebuke 
thus  boldly  fulminated  against  him. 

The  unfortunate  young  woman,  conceiving  hopes  from  her 


THE  MONASTERY. 


307 


tyrant's  silence  and  apparent  indecision,  forgot  both  her  feai 
and  shame  in  her  timid  expectation  that  Avenel  would  relent; 
and  fixing  upon  him  her  anxious  and  beseeching  eyes,  gradually 
drew  near  and  nearer  to  his  seat,  till  at  length,  laying  a  trem- 
bling hand  on  his  cloak,  she  ventured  to  utter :  "  0  noble  Ju- 
lian, listen  to  the  good  man!" 

The  speech  and  the  motion  were  ill-timed,  and  wrought  on 
that  proud  and  wayward  spirit  the  reverse  of  her  wishes. 

The  fierce  Baron  started  up  in  fury,  exclaiming:  "What! 
thou  foolish  callet,  art  thou  confederate  with  this  strolling 
vagabond,  whom  thou  hast  seen  beard  me  in  mine  own  hall! 
Hence  with  thee,  and  think  that  I  am  proof  both  to  male  and 
female  hypocrisy!" 

The  poor  girl  started  back,  astounded  at  his  voice  of  thun- 
der and  looks  of  fury,  and,  turning  pale  as  death,  endeavoured 
to  obey  his  orders,  and  tottered  towards  the  door.  Her  limbs 
failed  in  the  attempt,  and  she  fell  on  the  stone  floor  in  a  man- 
ner which  her  situation  might  have  rendered  fatal.  The  blood 
gushed  from  her  face.  Halbert  Glendinning  brooked  not  a 
sight  so  brutal,  but,  uttering  a  deep  imprecation,  started  from 
his  seat,  and  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword,  under  the  strong  im- 
pulse of  passing  it  through  the  body  of  the  cruel  and  hard- 
hearted ruffian.  But  Christie  of  the  Clinthill,  guessing  his 
intention,  threw  his  arms  around  him,  and  prevented  him 
from  stirring  to  execute  his  purpose. 

The  impulse  to  such  a  dangerous  act  of  violence  was  indeed 
but  momentary,  as  it  instantly  appeared  that  Avenel  himself, 
shocked  at  the  effects  of  his  violence,  was  lifting  up  and  en- 
deavouring to  soothe  in  his  own  way  the  terrified  Catherine. 

"  Peace, "  he  said — "  prithee,  peace,  thou  silly  minion ;  why, 
Kate,  though  I  listen  not  to  this  tramping  preacher,  I  said  not 
what  might  happen  an  thou  dost  bear  me  a  stout  boy.  There 
— there — dry  thy  tears — call  thy  women.  So  ho!  where  be 
these  queans?  Christie  —  Rowley —  Hutcheon  —  drag  them 
hither  by  the  hair  of  the  head!" 

A  half-dozen  of  startled,  wild-looking  females  rushed  into 
the  room,  and  bore  out  her  who  might  be  either  termed  their 
mistress  or  their  companion.    She  showed  little  sign  of  life, 


308 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


except  by  groaning  faintly  and  keeping  her  hand  on  her 
side. 

No  sooner  had  this  luckless  female  been  conveyed  from  the 
apartment  than  the  Baron,  advancing  to  the  table,  filled  and 
drank  a  deep  goblet  of  wine ;  then  putting  an  obvious  restraint 
on  his  passions,  turned  to  the  preacher,  who  stood  horror- 
struck  at  the  scene  he  had  witnessed,  and  said :  "  You  have 
borne  too  hard  on  us,  sir  preacher;  but  coining  with  the 
commendations  which,  you  have  brought  me,  I  doubt  not  but 
your  meaning  was  good.  But  we  are  a  wilder  folk  than  you 
inland  men  of  Fife  and  Lothian.  Be  advised,  therefore,  by 
me.  Spur  not  an  unbroken  horse ;  put  not  your  ploughshare 
too  deep  into  new  land.  Preach  to  us  spiritual  liberty,  and 
we  will  hearken  to  you;  but  we  will  give  no  way  to  spiritual 
bondage.  Sit,  therefore,  down,  and  pledge  me  in  old  sack, 
and  we  will  talk  over  other  matters." 

"  It  is  from  spiritual  bondage, "  said  the  preacher,  in  the 
same  tone  of  admonitory  reproof,  "  that  I  came  to  deliver  you 
— it  is  from  a  bondage  more  fearful  than  that  of  the  heaviest 
earthly  gyves:  it  is  from  your  own  evil  passions." 

"  Sit  down, "  said  Avenel,  fiercely — "  sit  down  while  the 
play  is  good,  else  by  my  father's  crest  and  my  mother's 
honour  !" 

"Now,"  whispered  Christie  of  the  Clinthill  to  Halbert,  "if 
he  refuse  to  sit  down,  I  would  not  give  a  grey  groat  for  his 
head." 

"  Lord  Baron, "  said  Warden,  "  thou  hast  placed  me  in  ex- 
tremity. But  if  the  question  be,  whether  I  am  to  hide  the 
light  which  I  am  commanded  to  show  forth  or  to  lose  the 
light  of  this  world,  my  choice  is  made.  I  say  to  thee,  like 
the  Holy  Baptist  to  Herod,  it  is  not  lawful  for  thee  to  have 
this  woman;  and  I  say  it,  though  bonds  and  death  be  the 
consequence,  counting  my  life  as  nothing  in  comparison  of  the 
ministry  to  which  I  am  called." 

Julian  Avenel,  enraged  at  the  firmness  of  this  reply,  flung 
from  his  right  hand  the  cup  in  which  he  was  about  to  drink 
to  his  guest,  and  from  the  other  cast  off  the  hawk,  which  flew 
wildly  through  the  apartment.    His  first  motion  was  to  lay 


THE  MONASTERY. 


309 


hand  upon  his  dagger.  But,  changing  his  resolution,  he  ex- 
claimed: "  To  the  dungeon  with  this  insolent  stroller!  I  will 
hear  no  man  speak  a  word  for  him.  Look  to  the  falcon, 
Christie,  thou  fool ;  an  she  escape,  I  will  despatch  you  after 
her  every  man.  Away  with  that  hypocritical  dreamer;  drag 
him  hence  if  he  resist!" 

He  was  obeyed  in  both  points.  Christie  of  the  Clinthill 
arrested  the  hawk's  flight  by  putting  his  foot  on  her  jesses, 
and  so  holding  her  fast,  while  Henry  Warden  was  led  off, 
without  having  shown  the  slightest  symptom  of  terror,  by 
two  of  the  Baron's  satellites.  Julian  Avenel  walked  the 
apartment  for  a  short  space  in  sullen  silence,  and  despatch- 
ing one  of  his  attendants  with  a  whispered  message,  which 
probably  related  to  the  health  of  the  unfortunate  Cathe- 
rine, he  said  aloud,  "  These  rash  and  meddling  priests !  By 
Heaven!  they  make  us  worse  than  we  should  be  without 
them."1 

The  answer  which  he  presently  received  seemed  somewhat 
to  pacify  his  angry  mood,  and  he  took  his  place  at  the  board, 
commanding  his  retinue  to  do  the  like.  All  sat  down  in  si- 
lence, and  began  the  repast. 

During  the  meal,  Christie  in  vain  attempted  to  engage  his 
youthful  companion  in  carousal,  or,  at  least,  in  conversation. 
Halbert  Glendinning  pleaded  fatigue,  and  expressed  himself 
unwilling  to  take  any  liquor  stronger  than  the  heather  ale, 
which  was  at  that  time  frequently  used  at  meals.  Thus  every 
effort  at  joviality  died  away,  until  the  Baron,  striking  his  hand 
against  the  table,  as  if  impatient  of  the  long  unbroken  silence, 
cried  out  aloud :  "  What,  ho !  my  masters,  are  ye  Border  rid- 
ers, and  sit  as  mute  over  your  meal  as  a  mess  of  monks  and 
friars?  Some  one  sing,  if  no  one  list  to  speak.  Meat  eaten 
without  either  mirth  or  music  is  ill  of  digestion.  Louis,"  he 
added,  speaking  to  one  of  the  youngest  of  his  followers,  "  thou 
art  ready  enough  to  sing  when  no  one  bids  thee." 

The  young  man  looked  first  at  his  master,  then  up  to  the 
arched  roof  of  the  hall,  then  drank  off  the  horn  of  ale,  or 
wine,  which  stood  beside  him,  and  with  a  rough  yet  not  un- 
1  See  Julian  Avenel.   Note  19. 


310 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


melodious  voice  sung  the  following  ditty  to  the  ancient  air  of 
"  Blue  Bonnets  over  the  Border"  : 

"  March,  march,  Ettrick  and  Teviotdale, 

Why  the  deil  dinna  ye  march  forward  in  order? 
March,  march,  Eskdale  and  Liddesdale, 
All  the  Blue  Bonnets  are  bound  for  the  Border. 
Many  a  banner  spread, 
Flutters  above  your  head, 
Many  a  crest  that  is  famous  in  story  ; 
Mount  and  make  ready  then, 
Sons  of  the  mountain  glen, 
Fight  for  the  Queen  and  the  old  Scottish  glory  ! 

Come  from  the  hills  where  the  hirsels  are  grazing, 

Come  from  the  glen  of  the  buck  and  the  roe  ; 
Come  to  the  crag  where  the  beacon  is  blazing, 
Come  with  the  buckler,  the  lance,  and  the  bow. 

Trumpets  are  sounding, 

War-steeds  are  bounding, 
Stand  to  your  arms  then,  and  march  in  good  order ; 

England  shall  many  a  day 

Tell  of  the  bloody  fray, 
When  the  Blue  Bonnets  came  over  the  Border !  " 

The  song,  rude  as  it  was,  had  in  it  that  warlike  character 
which  at  any  other  time  would  have  roused  Halbert's  spirit; 
but  at  present  the  charm  of  minstrelsy  had  no  effect  upon 
him.  He  made  it  his  request  to  Christie  to  suffer  him  to  re- 
tire to  rest,  a  request  with  which  that  worthy  person,  seeing 
no  chance  of  making  a  favourable  impression  on  his  intended 
proselyte  in  his  present  humour,  was  at  length  pleased  to 
comply.  But  no  Sergeant  Kite  who  ever  practised  the  pro- 
fession of  recruiting  was  more  attentive  that  his  object  should 
not  escape  him  than  was  Christie  of  the  Clinthill.  He  indeed 
conducted  Halbert  Glendinning  to  a  small  apartment  overlook- 
ing the  lake,  which  was  accommodated  with  a  truckle-bed. 
But  before  quitting  him  Christie  took  special  care  to  give  a 
look  to  the  bars  which  crossed  the  outside  of  the  window,  and 
when  he  left  the  apartment  he  failed  not  to  give  the  key  a 
double  turn — circumstances  which  convinced  young  Glendin- 
ning that  there  was  no  intention  of  suffering  him  to  depart 
from  the  Castle  of  Avenel  at  his  own  time  and  pleasure.  He 
judged  it,  however,  most  prudent  to  let  these  alarming  symp- 
toms pass  without  observation. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


311 


No  sooner  did  he  find  himself  in  undisturbed  solitude  than 
he  ran  rapidly  over  the  events  of  the  day  in  his  recollection, 
and  to  his  surprise  found  that  his  own  precarious  fate,  and 
even  the  death  of  Piercie  Shafton,  made  less  impression  on 
him  than  the  singularly  bold  and  determined  conduct  of  his 
companion,  Henry  Warden.  Providence,  which  suits  its  in- 
struments to  the  end  they  are  to  achieve,  had  awakened  m  the 
cause  of  Reformation  in  Scotland  a  body  of  preachers  of  more 
energy  than  refinement,  bold  in  spirit,  and  strong  in  faith, 
contemners  of  whatever  stood  betwixt  them  and  their  princi- 
pal object,  and  seeking  the  advancement  of  the  great  cause  in 
which  they  laboured  by  the  roughest  road,  provided  it  were 
the  shortest.  The  soft  breeze  may  wave  the  willow,  but  it 
requires  the  voice  of  the  tempest  to  agitate  the  boughs  of  the 
oak ;  and,  accordingly,  to  milder  hearers,  and  in  a  less  rude 
age,  their  manners  would  have  been  ill  adapted,  but  they  were 
singularly  successful  in  their  mission  to  the  rude  people  to 
whom  it  was  addressed. 

Owing  to  these  reasons,  Halbert  Glendinning,  who  had  re- 
sisted and  repelled  the  arguments  of  the  preacher,  was  forcibly 
struck  by  the  firmness  of  his  demeanour  in  the  dispute  with 
Julian  Avenel.  It  might  be  discourteous,  and  most  certainly 
it  was  incautious,  to  choose  such  a  place  and  such  an  audience, 
for  upbraiding  with  his  transgressions  a  baron  whom  both  man- 
ners and  situation  placed  in  full  possession  of  independent 
power.  But  the  conduct  of  the  preacher  was  uncompromising, 
firm,  manly,  and  obviously  grounded  upon  the  deepest  convic- 
tion which  duty  and  principle  could  afford;  and  Glendinning, 
who  had  viewed  the  conduct  of  Avenel  with  the  deepest 
abhorrence,  was  proportionally  interested  in  the  brave  old 
man,  who  had  ventured  life  rather  than  withhold  the  censure 
due  to  guilt.  This  pitch  of  virtue  seemed  to  him  to  be  in  re- 
ligion what  was  demanded  by  chivalry  of  her  votaries  in  war — 
an  absolute  surrender  of  all  selfish  feelings,  and  a  combination 
of  every  energy  proper  to  the  human  mind  to  discharge  the 
task  which  duty  demanded. 

Halbert  was  at  the  period  when  youth  is  most  open  to 
generous  emotions,  and  knows  best  how  to  appreciate  them  in 


312 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


others,  and  he  felt,  although  he  hardly  knew  why,  that,  whether 
Catholic  or  heretic,  the  safety  of  this  man  deeply  interested 
him.  Curiosity  mingled  with  the  feeling,  and  led  him  to 
wonder  what  the  nature  of  those  doctrines  could  be  which 
stole  their  votary  so  completely  from  himself,  and  devoted 
him  to  chains  or  to  death  as  their  sworn  champion.  He  had 
indeed  been  told  of  saints  and  martyrs  of  former  days  who 
had  braved  for  their  religious  faith  the  extremity  of  death 
and  torture.  But  their  spirit  of  enthusiastic  devotion  had 
long  slept  in  the  ease  and  indolent  habits  of  their  successors, 
and  their  adventures,  like  those  of  knights-errant,  were  rather 
read  for  amusement  than  for  edification.  A  new  impulse  had 
been  necessary  to  rekindle  the  energies  of  religious  zeal,  and 
that  impulse  was  now  operating  in  favour  of  a  purer  religion, 
with  one  of  whose  steadiest  votaries  the  youth  had  now  met 
for  the  first  time. 

The  sense  that  he  himself  was  a  prisoner,  under  the  power 
of  this  savage  chieftain,  by  no  means  diminished  Halbert's 
interest  in  the  fate  of  his  fellow-sufferer,  while  he  determined 
at  the  same  time  so  far  to  emulate  his  fortitude  that  neither 
threats  nor  suffering  should  compel  him  to  enter  into  the  ser- 
vice of  such  a  master.  The  possibility  of  escape  next  occurred 
to  him,  and,  though  with  little  hope  of  effecting  it  in  that  way, 
Glendinning  proceeded  to  examine  more  particularly  the  win- 
dow of  the  apartment.  This  apartment  was  situated  in  the 
first  story  of  the  castle,  and  was  not  so  far  from  the  rock  on 
which  it  was  founded  but  that  an  active  and  bold  man  might 
with  little  assistance  descend  to  a  shelf  of  the  rock  which  was 
immediately  below  the  window,  and  from  thence  either  leap 
or  drop  himself  down  into  the  lake  which  lay  below  his  eye, 
clear  and  blue  in  the  placid  light  of  a  full  summer's  moon. 
"  Were  I  once  placed  on  that  ledge, 99  thought  Glendinning, 
"Julian  Avenel  and  Christie  had  seen  the  last  of  me."  The 
size  of  the  window  favoured  such  an  attempt,  but  the  stan- 
chions or  iron  bars  seemed  to  form  an  insurmountable  obstacle. 

While  Halbert  Glendinning  gazed  from  the  window  with 
that  eagerness  of  hope  which  was  prompted  by  the  energy  of 
his  character  and  his  determination  not  to  yield  to  circum- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


313 


stances,  his  ear  caught  some  sounds  from  below,  and  listening 
with  more  attention,  he  could  distinguish  the  voice  of  the 
preacher  engaged  in  his  solitary  devotions.  To  open  a  corre- 
spondence with  him  became  immediately  his  object,  and  failing 
to  do  so  by  less  marked  sounds,  he  at  length  ventured  to  speak, 
and  was  answered  from  beneath,  "  Is  it  thou,  my  son?"  The 
voice  of  the  prisoner  now  sounded  more  distinctly  than  when 
it  was  first  heard,  for  Warden  had  approached  the  small  aper- 
ture which,  serving  his  prison  for  a  window,  opened  just  be- 
twixt the  wall  and  the  rock,  and  admitted  a  scanty  portion  of 
light  through  a  wall  of  immense  thickness.  This  soujArail 
being  placed  exactly  under  Halbert' s  window,  the  contiguity 
permitted  the  prisoners  to  converse  in  a  low  tone,  when  Hal- 
bert  declared  his  intention  to  escape,  and  the  possibility  he 
saw  of  achieving  his  purpose,  but  for  the  iron  stanchions  of 
the  window.  "  Prove  thy  strength,  my  son,  in  the  name  of 
God!"  said  the  preacher.  Halbert  obeyed  him  more  in  de- 
spair than  hope,  but  to  his  great  astonishment,  and  somewhat 
to  his  terror,  the  bar  parted  asunder  near  the  bottom,  and  the 
longer  part  being  easily  bent  outwards  and  not  secured  with 
lead  in  the  upper  socket,  dropt  out  into  Halbert' s  hand.  He 
immediately  whispered,  but  as  energetically  as  a  whisper 
could  be  expressed,  "  By  Heaven,  the  bar  has  given  way  in 
my  hand!" 

"  Thank  Heaven,  my  son,  instead  of  swearing  by  it, "  an- 
swered Warden  from  his  dungeon. 

With  little  effort  Halbert  Glendinning  forced  himself 
through  the  opening  thus  wonderfully  effected,  and  using  his 
leathern  sword-belt  as  a  rope  to  assist  him,  let  himself  safely 
drop  on  the  shelf  of  rock  upon  which  the  preacher's  window 
opened.  But  through  this  no  passage  could  be  effected,  being 
scarce  larger  than  a  loophole  for  musketry,  and  apparently 
constructed  for  that  purpose. 

"  Are  there  no  means  by  which  I  can  assist  your  escape,  my 
father?"  said  Halbert. 

i(  There  are  none,  my  son,"  answered  the  preacher;  "but  if 
thou  wilt  ensure  my  safety,  that  may  be  in  thy  power. " 

"  Jkrill  labour  earnestly  for  it, "  said  the  youth. 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Take  then  a  letter  which  I  will  presently  write,  for  T  have 
the  means  of  light  and  writing  materials  in  my  scrip.  Hasten 
towards  Edinburgh,  and  on  the  way  thou  wilt  meet  a  body  of 
horse  marching  southwards.  Give  this  to  their  leader,  and 
acquaint  him  of  the  state  in  which  thou  hast  left  me.  It  may 
hap  that  thy  doing  so  will  advantage  thyself." 

In  a  minute  or  two  the  light  of  a  taper  gleamed  through  the 
shot-hole,  and  very  shortly  after  the  preacher,  with  the  as- 
sistance of  his  staff,  pushed  a  billet  to  Glendinning  through 
the  window. 

"  God  bless  thee,  my  son, "  said  the  old  man,  "  and  complete 
the  marvellous  work  which  He  hath  begun!" 

"Amen!"  answered Halbert,  with  solemnity,  and  proceeded 
on  his  enterprise. 

He  hesitated  a  moment  whether  he  should  attempt  to  de- 
scend to  the  edge  of  the  water;  but  the  steepness  of  the  rock, 
notwithstanding  the  clearness  of  the  night,  rendered  the  en- 
terprise too  dangerous.  He  clasped  his  hands  above  his 
head,  and  boldly  sprung  from  the  precipice,  shooting  himself 
forward  into  the  air  as  far  as  he  could  for  fear  of  sunken  rocks, 
and  alighted  on  the  lake,  head  foremost,  with  such  force  as 
sunk  him  for  a  minute  below  the  surface.  But,  strong,  long- 
breathed,  and  accustomed  to  such  exercise,  Halbert,  even 
though  encumbered  with  his  sword,  dived  and  rose  like  a  sea- 
fowl,  and  swam  across  the  lake  in  the  northern  direction. 
When  he  landed  and  looked  back  on  the  castle,  he  could  ob- 
serve that  the  alarm  had  been  given,  for  lights  glanced  from 
window  to  window,  and  he  heard  the  drawbridge  lowered,  and 
the  tread  of  horses'  feet  upon  the  causeway.  But,  little 
alarmed  for  the  consequence  of  a  pursuit  during  the  darkness, 
he  wrung  the  water  fiom  his  dress,  and,  plunginjg  into  the 
moors,  directed  his  course  to  the  northeast  by  the  assistance 
of  the  polar  star. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


315 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Why,  what  an  intricate  impeach  is  this  ! 

I  think  you  all  have  drank  of  Circe's  cup. 

If  here  you  housed  him,  here  he  would  have  been ; 

If  he  were  mad,  he  would  not  plead  so  coldly. 

Comedy  of  Errors. 

The  course  of  our  story,  leaving  for  the  present  Halbert 
Glendininng  to  the  guidance  of  his  courage  and  his  fortune, 
returns  to  the  Tower  of  Glendearg,  where  matters  in  the 
mean  while  fell  out  with  which  it  is  most  fitting  that  the 
reader  should  be  acquainted. 

The  meal  was  prepared  at  noontide  with  all  the  care  which 
Elspeth  and  Tibb,  assisted  by  the  various  accommodations 
which  had  ^been  supplied  from  the  monastery,  could  bestow 
on  it.  Their  dialogue  ran  on  as  usual  in  the  intervals  of  their 
labour,  partly  as  between  mistress  and  servant,  partly  as 
maintained  by  gossips  of  nearly  equal  quality. 

"  Look  to  the  minced  meat,  Tibb, "  said  Elspeth ;  "  and  turn 
the  broach  even,  thou  good-for-nothing  Simmie :  thy  wits  are 
harrying  birds'  nests,  child.  Weel,  Tibb,  this  is  a  fasheous 
job — this  Sir  Piercie  lying  leaguer  with  us  up  here,  and  wha 
kens  for  how  lang?" 

"A  fasheous  job,  indeed, 99  answered  her  faithful  attend- 
ant, "  and  little  good  did  the  name  ever  bring  to  fair  Scot- 
land. Ye  may  have  your  hands  fuller  of  them  than  they  are 
yet.  Mony  a  sair  heart  have  the  Piercies  given  to  Scots  wife 
and  bairns  with  their  pricking  on  the  Borders.  There  was 
Hotspur,  and  many  more  of  that  bloody  kindred,  have  sate 
in  our  skirts  since  Malcolm's  time,  as  Martin  says!" 

" Martin  should  keep  a  weel-scrapit  tongue  in  his  head," 
said  Elspeth,  "  and  not  slander  the  kin  of  anybody  that  quar- 
ters at  Glendearg;  forbye,  ±hat  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  is  much 
respected  with  the  holy  fathers  of  the  community,  and  they 
will  make  up  to  us  ony  fasherie  that  we  may  have  with  him, 
either  by  good  word  or  good  deed,  I'se  warrant  them.  He  is 
a  considerate  lord,  the  lord  abbot. 99 


316 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


;t  And  weel  lie  likes  a  saft  seat  to  his  hinder  end/'  said 
Tibb ;  "  I  have  seen  a  belted  baron  sit  on  a  bare  bench,  and 
find  nae  fault.  But  an  ye  are  pleased,  mistress,  I  am 
pleased." 

"  Now,  in  good  time,  here  comes  Mysie  of  the  Mill.  And 
whare  hae  ye  been,  lass,  for  a's  gane  wrang  without  you?" 
said  Elspeth. 

"I  just  gaed  a  blink  up  the  burn,"  said  Mysie,  "for  the 
young  lady  has  been  down  on  her  bed,  and  is  no  just  that 
week    So  I  gaed  a  gliff  up  the  burn." 

"  To  see  the  young  lads  come  hame  frae  the  sport,  I  will 
warrant  you,"  said  Elspeth.  "Ay,  ay,  Tibb,  that's  the  way 
the  young  folk  guide  us,  Tibbie ;  leave  us  to  do  the  wark,  and 
out  to  the  play  themsells." 

"Ne'er  a  bit  of  that,  mistress,"  said  the  Maid  of  the  Mill, 
stripping  her  round  pretty  arms,  and  looking  actively  and 
good-humouredly  about  her  for  some  duty  that  she  could  dis- 
charge; "but  just — I  thought  ye  might  like  to  ken  if  they 
were  coming  back,  just  to  get  the  dinner  forward." 

"And  saw  you  aught  of  them,  then?"  demanded  Elspeth. 

••  Not  the  least  tokening,"  said  Mysie,  "though  I  got  to  the 
head  of  a  knowe,  and  though  the  English  knight's  beautiful 
white  feather  could  have  been  seen  over  all  the  bushes  in  the 
shaw." 

"The  knight's  white  feather!"  said  Dame  Glendinning; 
"ye  are  a  sillie  hempie — my  Halbert's  high  head  will  be  seen 
farther  than  his  feather,  let  it  be  as  white  as  it  like,  I  trow." 

Mysie  made  no  answer,  but  began  to  knead  dough  for  wastel- 
cake  with  all  despatch,  observing  that  Sir  Piercie  had  par- 
taken of  that  dainty,  and  commended  it,  upon  the  preced- 
ing day.  And  presently,  in  order  to  place  on  the  fire  the 
girdle  or  iron  plate  on  which  these  cakes  were  to  be  baked, 
she  displaced  a  stew-pan  in  which  some  of  Tibb's  delicacies 
were  submitted  to  the  action  of  the  kitchen  fire.  Tibb  mut- 
tered betwixt  her  teeth :  "  And  it  is  the  broth  for  my  sick 
bairn  that  maun  make  room  for  the  dainty  Southron's  wastel- 
bread!  It  was  a  blythe  time  in  Wight  Wallace's  day,  or 
good  King  Robert's,  when  the  pock-puddings  gat  naething 


THE  MONASTERY. 


317. 


here  but  hard  straiks  and  bloody  crowns.  But  we  will  see 
how  it  will  a'  end." 

Elspeth  did  not  think  it  proper  to  notice  these  discontented 
expressions  of  Tibbie,  but  they  sunk  into  her  mind ;  for  she 
was  apt  to  consider  her  as  a  sort  of  authority 'in  matters  of 
war  and  policy,  with  which  her  former  experience  as  bower- 
woman  at  Avenel  Castle  made  her  better  acquainted  than 
were  the  peaceful  inhabitants  of  the  halidome.  She  only 
spoke,  however,  to  express  her  surprise  that  the  hunters  did 
not  return. 

"  An  they  come  not  back  the  sooner,"  said  Tibb,  "  they  will 
fare  the  waur,  for  the  meat  will  be  roasted  to  a  cinder;  and 
there  is  poor  Simmie  that  can  turn  the  spit  nae  langer: 
the  bairn  is  melting  like  an  icicle  in  warm  water.  Gang 
awa',  bairn,  and  take  a  mouthful  of  the  caller  air,  and  I  will 
turn  the  broach  till  ye  come  back." 

"Bin  up  to  the  bartizan  at  the  tower  head,  callant,"  said 
Dame  Glendinning,  "  the  air  will  be  callerer  there  than  ony 
gate  else,  -and  bring  us  word  if  our  Halbert  and  the  gentleman 
are  coming  down  the  glen." 

The  boy  lingered  long  enough  to  allow  his  substitute,  Tibb 
Tacket,  heartily  to  tire  of  her  own  generosity  and  of  his  crick- 
et-stool by  the  side  of  a  huge  fire.  He  at  length  returned  with 
the  news  that  he  had  seen  nobody. 

The  matter  was  not  remarkable  so  far  as  Halbert  Glendin- 
ning was  concerned,  for,  patient  alike  of  want  and  of  fatigue, 
it  was  no  uncommon  circumstance  for  him  to  remain  in  the 
wilds  till  curfew  time.  But  nobody  had  given  Sir  Pierce 
Shafton  credit  for  being  so  keen  a  sportsman,  and  the  idea  of 
an  Englishman  preferring  the  chase  to  his  dinner  was  alto- 
gether inconsistent  with  their  preconceptions  of  the  national 
character.  Amidst  wondering  and  conjecturing,  the  usual 
dinner  hour  passed  long  away;  and  the  inmates  of  the  tower, 
taking  a  hasty  meal  themselves,  adjourned  their  more  solemn 
reparations  until  the  hunters'  return  at  night,  since  it  seemed 
ow  certain  that  their  sport  had  either  carried  them  to  a 
greater  distance,  or  engaged  them  for  a  longer  time,  than  had 
been  expected. 


318 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


About  four  hours  after  noon,  arrived,  not  the  expected 
sportsmen,  but  an  unlooked-for  visitant,  the  sub-prior  from 
the  monastery.  The  scene  of  the  preceding  day  had  dwelt 
on  the  mind  of  Father  Eustace,  who  was  of  that  keen  and 
penetrating  cast  of  character  which  loves  not  to  leave  unascer- 
tained whatever  of  mysterious  is  subjected  to  its  inquiry. 
His  kindness  was  interested  in  the  family  of  Glendearg,  which 
he  had  now  known  for  a  long  time ;  and  besides,  the  commu- 
nity was  interested  in  the  preservation  of  the  peace  betwixt 
Sir  Piercie  Shafton  and  his  youthful  host,  since  whatever 
might  draw  public  attention  on  the  former  could  not  fail  to 
be  prejudicial  to  the  monastery,  which  was  already  threatened 
by  the  hand  of  power.  He  found  the  family  assembled  all 
but  Mary  Avenel,  and  was  informed  that  Halbert  Glendin- 
ning  had  accompanied  the  stranger  on  a  day's  sport.  So  far 
was  well.  They  had  not  returned;  but  when  did  youth  and 
sport  conceive  themselves  bound  by  set  hours?  and  the  cir- 
cumstance excited  no  alarm  in  his  mind. 

While  he  was  conversing  with  Edward  Glendinning  touch- 
ing his  progress  in  the  studies  he  had  pointed  out  to  him,  they 
were  startled  by  a  shriek  from  Mary  AvenePs  apartment, 
which  drew  the  whole  family  hither  in  headlong  haste.  They 
found  her  in  a  swoon  in  the  arms  of  Old  Martin,  who  was  bit- 
terly accusing  himself  of  having  killed  her :  so  indeed  it  seemed, 
for  her  pale  features  and  closed  eyes  argued  rather  a  dead 
corpse  than  a  living  person.  The  whole  family  were  instantly 
in  tumult.  Snatching  her  from  Martin's  arms  with  the  eager- 
ness of  affectionate  terror,  Edward  bore  her  to  the  casement, 
that  she  might  receive  the  influence  of  the  open  air;  the  sub- 
prior,  who,  like  many  of  his  profession,  had  some  knowledge 
of  medicine,  hastened  to  prescribe  the  readiest  remedies  which 
occurred  to  him ;  and  the  terrified  females  contended  with,  and 
impeded  each  other,  in  their  rival  efforts  to  be  useful. 

"It  has  been  ane  of  her  weary  ghaists,"  said  Dame  Glen- 
dinning. 

"  It's  just  a  trembling  on  her  spirits,  as  her  blessed  mother 
used  to  have,"  said  Tibb. 

"It's  some  ill  news  has  come  ower  her,"  said  the  miller's 


THE  MONASTERY. 


319 


maiden ;  while  burnt  feathers,  cold  water,  and  all  the  usual 
means  of  restoring  suspended  animation,  were  employed  alter- 
nately, and  with  little  effect. 

At  length  a  new  assistant,  who  had  joined  the  group  unob- 
served, tendered  his  aid  in  the  following  terms :  "  How  is  this, 
my  most  fair  Discretion?  What  cause  hath  moved  the  ruby 
current  of  life  to  rush  back  to  the  citadel  of  the  heart,  leaving 
pale  those  features  in  which  it  should  have  delighted  to  mean- 
der for  ever!  Let  me  approach  her,"  he  said,  "with  this 
sovereign  essence,  distilled  by  the  fair  hands  of  the  divine 
Urania,  and  powerful  to  recall  fugitive  life,  even  if  it  were 
trembling  on  the  verge  of  departure." 

Thus  speaking,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  knelt  down,  and  most 
gracefully  presented  to  the  nostrils  of  Mary  Avenel  a  silver 
pouncet-box,  exquisitely  chased,  containing  a  sponge  dipt  in 
the  essence  which  he  recommended  so  highly.  Yes,  gentle 
reader,  it  was  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  himself  who  thus  unex- 
pectedly proffered  his  good  offices ! — his  cheeks,  indeed,  very 
pale,  and  some  part  of  his  dress  stained  with  blood,  but  not 
otherwise  appearing  different  from  what  he  was  on  the  pre- 
ceding evening.  But  no  sooner  had  Mary  Avenel  opened  her 
eyes  and  fixed  them  on  the  figure  of  the  officious  courtier, 
than  she  screamed  faintly,  and  exclaimed :  "  Secure  the  mur- 
derer!" 

Those  present  stood  aghast  with  astonishment,  and  none 
more  so  than  the  Euphuist,  who  found  himself  so  suddenly 
and  so  strangely  accused  by  the  patient  whom  he  was  endeav- 
ouring to  succour,  and  who  repelled  his  attempts  to  yield  her 
assistance  with  all  the  energy  of  abhorrence. 

"Take  him  away!"  she  exclaimed — "take  away  the  mur- 
derer!" 

"Now,  by  my  knighthood,"  answered  Sir  Piercie,  "your 
lovely  faculties  either  of  mind  or  body  are,  0  my  most  fair 
Discretion,  obnubilated  by  some  strange  hallucination!  For 
either  your  eyes  do  not  discern  that  it  is  Piercie  Shafton, 
your  most  devoted  Affability,  who  stands  before  you,  or  else, 
your  eyes  discerning  truly,  your  mind  has  most  erroneously 
concluded  that  he  has  been  guilty  of  some  delict  or  violence 


320 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


to  which  his  hand  is  a  stranger.  No  murder,  O  most  scorn* 
ful  Discretion,  hath  been  this  day  done,  saving  but  that  which 
your  angry  glances  are  now  performing  on  your  most  devoted 
captive. v 

He  was  here  interrupted  by  the  sub-prior,  who  had,  in  the 
mean  time,  been  speaking  with  Martin  apart,  and  had  received 
from  him  an  account  of  the  circumstances  which,  suddenly 
communicated  to  Mary  Avenel,  had  thrown  her  into  this  state. 
"Sir  knight,"  said  the  sub-prior,  in  a  very  solemn  tone,  yet 
with  some  hesitation,  "  circumstances  have  been  communicated 
to  us  of  a  nature  so  extraordinary  that,  reluctant  as  I  am  to 
exercise  such  authority  over  a  guest  of  our  venerable  commu- 
nity, I  am  constrained  to  request  from  you  an  explanation  of 
them.  You  left  this  tower  early  in  the  morning,  accompanied 
by  a  youth,  Halbert  Glendinning,  the  eldest  son  of  this  good 
dame,  and  you  return  hither  without  him.  Where,  and  at 
what  hour,  did  you  part  company  from  him?" 

The  English  knight  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  replied : 
"  I  marvel  that  your  reverence  employs  so  grave  a  tone  to  en- 
force so  light  a  question.  I  parted  with  the  villagio  whom  you 
call  Halbert  Glendinning  some  hour  or  twain  after  sunrise." 

"  And  at  what  place,  I  pray  you?"  said  the  monk. 

"  In  a  deep  ravine,  where  a  fountain  rises  at  the  base  of  a 
huge  rock,  an  earth-born  Titan,  which  heaveth  up  its  grey 
head,  even  as  " 

"Spare  us  further  description,"  said  the  sub-prior;  "we 
know  the  spot.  But  that  youth  hath  not  since  been  heard 
of,  and  it  will  fall  on  you  to  account  for  him. " 

"My  bairn! — my  bairn!"  exclaimed  Dame  Glendinning. 
"Yes,  holy  father,  make  the  villain  account  for  my  bairn!" 

"  I  swear,  good  woman,  by  bread  and  by  water,  which  are 
the  props  of  our  life  " 

"  Swear  by  wine  and  wastel-bread,  for  these  are  the  props 
of  thy  life,  thou  greedy  Southron!"  said  Dame  Glendinning; 
"  a  base  belly-god,  to  come  here  to  eat  the  best,  and  practise 
on  our  lives  that  give  it  to  him!" 

"  I  tell  thee,  woman, "  said  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  "  I  did  but 
go  with  thy  son  to  the  hunting." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


321 


"A  black  hunting  it  has  been  to  him,  poor  bairn,"  replied 
Tibb;  "  and  sae  I  said  it  wad  prove  since  I  first  saw  the  false 
Southron  snout  of  thee.  Little  good  comes  of  a  Piercie' s  hunt- 
ing, from  Chevy  Chase  till  now." 

"  Be  silent,  woman, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  and  rail  not  upon 
the  English  knight ;  we  do  not  yet  know  of  anything  beyond 
suspicion." 

"  We  will  have  his  heart's  blood!"  said  Dame  Glendinning; 
and,  seconded  by  the  faithful  Tibbie,  she  made  such  a  sudden 
onslaught  on  the  unlucky  Euphuist  as  must  have  terminated 
in  something  serious,  had  not  the  monk,  aided  by  Mysie  Hap- 
per,  interposed  to  protect  him  from  their  fury.  Edward 
had  left  the  apartment  the  instant  the  disturbance  broke  out, 
and  now  entered  sword  in  hand,  followed  by  Martin  and  Jas- 
per?  the  one  having  a  hunting-spear  in  his  hand,  the  other  a 
cross-bow. 

"Keep  the  door,"  he  said  to  his  two  attendants;  " shoot 
him  or  stab  him  without  mercy  should  he  attempt  to  break 
forth;  if  he  offers  an  escape,  by  Heaven  he  shall  die!" 

" How  now,  Edward,"  said  the  sub-prior;  "how  is  this  that 
you  so  far  forget  yourself?  meditating  violence  to  a  guest,  and 
in  my  presence,  who  represent  your  liege  lord?" 

Edward  stepped  forward  with  his  drawn  sword  in  his  hand. 
"  Pardon  me,  reverend  father, "  he  said,  "  but  in  this  matter 
the  voice  of  nature  speaks  louder  and  stronger  than  yours. 
I  turn  my  sword's  point  against  this  proud  man,  and  I  de- 
mand of  him  the  blood  of  my  brother — the  blood  of  my  fa- 
ther's son — of  the  heir  of  our  name!  If  he  denies  to  give  me 
a  true  account  of  him,  he  shall  not  deny  me  vengeance. " 

Embarrassed  as  he  was,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  showed  no 
personal  fear.  "Put  up  thy  sword,"  he  said,  "young  man; 
not  in  the  same  day  does  Piercie  Shafton  contend  with  two 
peasants." 

"Hear  him!  he  confesses  the  deed,  holy  father,"  said 
Edward. 

"Be  patient,  my  son,"  said  the  sub-prior,  endeavouring  to 
soothe  the  feelings  which  he  could  not  otherwise  control — "  be 
patient,  thou  wilt  attain  the  ends  of  justice  better  through  my 
21 


322 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


means  than  thine  own  violence.  And  you,  women,  be  silent. 
Tibb,  remove  your  mistress  and  Mary  Avenel." 

While  Tibb,  with  the  assistance  of  the  other  females  of  the 
household,  bore  the  poor  mother  and  Mary  Avenel  into  separ- 
ate apartments,  and  while  Edward,  still  keeping  his  sword  in 
his  hand,  hastily  traversed  the  room,  as  if  to  prevent  the  pos- 
sibility of  Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton's  escape,  the  sub-prior  insisted 
upon  knowing  from  the  perplexed  knight  the  particulars  which 
he  knew  respecting  Halbert  Glendinning.  His  situation  be- 
came extremely  embarrassing,  for  what  he  might  with  safety 
have  told  of  the  issue  of  their  combat  was  so  revolting  to  his 
pride  that  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  enter  into  the  detail ; 
and  of  Halbert's  actual  fate  he  knew,  as  the  reader  is  well 
aware,  absolutely  nothing. 

The  father  in  the  mean  while  pressed  him  with  remon- 
strances, and  prayed  him  to  observe,  he  would  greatly  prej- 
udice himself  by  declining  to  give  a  full  account  of  the 
transactions  of  the  day.  "You  cannot  deny,"  he  said,  "that 
yesterday  you  seemed  to  take  the  most  violent  offence  at  this 
unfortunate  youth ;  and  that  you  suppressed  your  resentment 
so  suddenly  as  to  impress  us  all  with  surprise.  Last  night 
you  proposed  to  him  this  day's  hunting  party,  and  you  set 
out  together  by  break  of  day.  You  parted,  you  said,  at  the 
fountain  near  the  rock,  about  an  hour  or  twain  after  sunrise, 
and  it  appears  that  before  you  parted  you  had  been  at  strife 
together." 

"  I  said  not  so,"  replied  the  knight.  "  Here  is  a  coil  indeed 
about  the  absence  of  a  rustical  bondsman,  who,  I  dare  say, 
hath  gone  off — if  he  be  gone — to  join  the  next  rascally  band  of 
freebooters!  Ye  ask  me,  a  knight  of  the  Piercie's  lineage,  to 
account  for  such  an  insignificant  fugitive,  and  I  answer,  let 
me  know  the  price  of  his  head,  and  I  will  pay  it  to  your  con- 
Tent  treasurer." 

"  You  admit,  then,  that  you  have  slain  my  brother?"  said 
Edward,  interfering  once  more :  "  I  will  presently  show  you 
at  what  price  we  Scots  rate  the  lives  of  our  friends!" 

"Peace,  Edward — peace,  T  entreat — I  command  thee!"  said 
the  sub-prior.    "  And  you,  sir  knight,  think  better  of  us  than 


THE  MONASTERY. 


323 


to  suppose  you  may  spend  Scottish  blood,  and  reckon  for  it  as 
for  wine  spilt  in  a  drunken  revel.  This  youth  was  no  bonds- 
man ;  thou  well  knowest  that,  in  thine  own  land,  thou  hadst 
not  dared  to  lift  thy  sword  against  the  meanest  subject  of 
England  but  her  laws  would  have  called  thee  to  answer  for 
the  deed.  Do  not  hope  it  will  be  otherwise  here,  for  you  will 
but  deceive  yourself." 

"  You  drive  me  beyond  my  patience,"  said  the  Euphuist, 
"  even  as  the  over-driven  ox  is  urged  into  madness !  What 
can  I  tell  you  of  a  young  fellow  whom  I  have  not  seen  since 
the  second  hour  after  sunrise?" 

"But  can  you  explain  in  what  circumstances  you  parted 
with  him?"  said  the  monk. 

"What  are  the  circumstances,  in  the  devil's  name,  which 
you  desire  should  be  explained?  for  although  I  protest  against 
this  constraint  as  alike  unworthy  and  inhospitable,  yet  would 
I  willingly  end  this  fray,  provided  that  by  words  it  may  be 
ended,"  said  the  knight. 

"  If  these  end  it  not, "  said  Edward,  "  blows  shall,  and  that 
full  speedily." 

"Peace,  impatient  boy!"  said  the  sub-prior ;  "and  do  you, 
Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  acquaint  me  why  the  ground  is  bloody  by 
the  verge  of  the  fountain  in  Corrie-nan-Shian,  where,  as  you 
say  yourself,  you  parted  from  Halbert  Glend inning." 

Resolute  not  to  avow  his  defeat  if  possibly  he  could  avoid 
it,  the  knight  answered,  in  a  haughty  tone,  that  he  supposed 
it  was  no  unusual  thing  to  find  the  turf  bloody  where  hunters 
had  slain  a  deer. 

"  And  did  you  bury  your  game  as  well  as  kill  it?"  inquired 
the  monk.  "  We  must  know  from  you  who  is  the  tenant  of 
that  grave — that  newly-made  grave,  beside  the  very  fountain 
whose  margin  is  so  deeply  crimsoned  with  blood.  Thou  see- 
est  thou  canst  not  evade  me ;  therefore  be  ingenuous,  and  tell 
us  the  fate  of  this  unhappy  youth,  whose  body  is  doubtless 
lying  under  that  bloody  turf." 

"If  it  be,"  said  Sir  Piercie,  "they  must  have  buried  him 
alive;  for  I  swear  to  thee,  reverend  father,  that  this  rustic 
juvenal  parted  from  me  in  perfect  health.    Let  the  grave  be 


324 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


searched,  and  if  his  body  be  found,  then  deal  with  me  as 
ye  list," 

"  It  is  not  my  sphere  to  determine  thy  fate,  sir  knight,  but 
that  of  the  lord  abbot  and  the  right  reverend  chapter.  It  is 
but  my  duty  to  collect  such  information  as  may  best  possess 
their  wisdom  with  the  matters  which  have  chanced." 

"  Might  I  presume  so  far,  reverend  father,"  said  the  knight, 
"  I  should  wish  to  know  the  author  and  evidence  of  all  these 
suspicions,  so  unfoundedly  urged  against  me?" 

"It  is  soon  told,"  said  the  sub-prior;  "nor  do  I  wish  to 
disguise  it,  if  it  can  avail  you  in  your  defence.  This  maiden, 
Mary  Avenel,  apprehending  that  you  nourished  malice  against 
her  foster-brother  under  a  friendly  brow,  did  advisedly  send 
up  the  old  man,  Martin  Tacket,  to  follow  your  footsteps,  and 
to  prevent  mischief.  But  it  seems  that  your  evil  passions  had 
outrun  precaution;  for  when  he  came  to  the  spot,  guided  by 
your  footsteps  upon  the  dew,  he  found  but  the  bloody  turf  and 
the  new-covered  grave ;  and  after  long  and  vain  search  through 
the  wilds  after  Halbert  and  yourself,  he  brought  back  the 
sorrowful  news  to  her  who  had  sent  him." 

"Saw  he  not  my  doublet,  I  pray  you?"  said  Sir  Piercie; 
"  for  when  I  came  to  myself  I  found  that  I  was  wrapped  in 
my  cloak,  but  without  my  under  garment,  as  your  reverence 
may  observe." 

So  saying,  he  opened  his  cloak,  forgetting,  with  his  charac- 
teristical  inconsistency,  that  he  showed  his  shirt  stained  with 
blood. 

"  How !  cruel  man, "  said  the  monk,  when  he  observed  this 
confirmation  of  his  suspicions ;  "  wilt  thou  deny  the  guilt,  even 
while  thou  bearest  on  thy  person  the  blood  thou  hast  shed? 
Wilt  thou  longer  deny  that  thy  rash  hand  has  robbed  a  mother 
of  a  son,  our  community  of  a  vassal,  the  Queen  of  Scotland  of 
a  liege  subject?  And  what  canst  thou  expect,  but  that,  at  the 
least,  we  deliver  thee  up  to  England,  as  undeserving  our  fur- 
ther protection?'' 

"By  the  saints!"  said  the  knight,  now  driven  to  extremity, 
"  if  this  blood  be  the  witness  against  me,  it  is  but  rebel  blood, 
since  this  morning  at  sunrise  it  flowed  within  my  own  veins." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


325 


"  How  were  that  possible,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton, "  said  the 
monk,  "  since  I  see  no  wound  from  whence  it  can  have 
flowed?" 

"  That, "  said  the  knight,  "  is  the  most  mysterious  part  of 
the  transaction.    See  here!" 

So  saying,  he  undid  his  shirt  collar,  and,  opening  his  bosom, 
showed  the  spot  through  which  H  albert' s  sword  had  passed, 
but  already  cicatrised,  and  bearing  the  appearance  of  a  wound 
lately  healed. 

"This  exhausts  my  patience,  sir  knight,"  said  the  sub- 
prior,  "  and  is  adding  insult  to  violence  and  injury.  Do  you 
hold  me  for  a  child  or  an  idiot,  that  you  pretend  to  make  me 
believe  that  the  fresh  blood  with  which  your  shirt  is  stained 
flowed  from  a  wound  which  has  been  healed  for  weeks  or 
months?  Unhappy  mocker,  thinkest  thou  thus  to  blind  us? 
Too  well  do  we  know  that  it  is  the  blood  of  your  victim, 
wrestling  with  you  in  the  desparate  and  mortal  struggle, 
which  has  thus  dyed  your  apparel." 

The  knight,  after  a  moment's  recollection,  said  in  reply  :  "  I 
will  be  open  with  you,  my  father ;  bid  these  men  stand  out  of 
ear-shot,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  I  know  of  this  mysterious  busi- 
ness ;  and  muse  not,  good  father,  though  it  may  pass  thy  wit 
to  expound  it,  for  I  avouch  to  you  it  is  too  dark  for  mine  own. " 

The  monk  commmanded  Edward  and  the  two  men  to  with- 
draw, assuring  the  former  that  his  conference  with  the  pris- 
oner should  be  brief,  and  giving  him  permission  to  keep  watch 
at  the  door  of  the  apartment;  without  which  allowance  he 
might,  perhaps,  have  had  some  difficulty  in  procuring  his  ab- 
sence. Edward  had  no  sooner  left  the  chamber  than  he  de- 
spatched messengers  to  one  or  two  families  of  the  halidome, 
with  whose  sons  his  brother  and  he  sometimes  associated,  to 
tell  them  that  Halbert  Glendinning  had  been  murdered  by  an 
Englishman,  and  to  require  them  to  repair  to  the  Tower  of 
Glendearg  without  delay.  The  duty  of  revenge  in  such  cases 
was  held  so  sacred  that  he  had  no  reason  to  doubt  they  would 
instantly  come  with  such  assistance  as  would  ensure  the  de- 
tention of  the  prisoner.  He  then  locked  the  doors  of  the 
tower,  both  inner  and  outer,t  and  also  the  gate  of  the  court- 


326 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


yard.  Having  taken  these  precautions,  he  made  a  hasty  visit 
to  the  females  of  the  family,  exhausting  himself  in  efforts  to 
console  them,  and  in  protestations  that  he  would  have  ven- 
geance for  his  murdered  brother. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Now,  by  Our  Lady,  sheriff,  'tis  hard  reckoning, 
That  I,  with  every  odds  of  birth  and  barony, 
Should  be  detain' d  here  for  the  casual  death 
Of  a  wild  forester,  whose  utmost  having 
Is  but  the  brazen  buckle  of  the  belt 
In  which  he  sticks  his  hedge-knife. 

Old  Play, 

While  Edward  was  making  preparations  for  securing  and 
punishing  the  supposed  murderer  of  his  brother,  with  an  in- 
tense thirst  for  vengeance  which  had  not  hitherto  shown  itself 
as  part  of  his  character,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  made  such  com- 
munications as  it  pleased  him  to  the  sub-prior,  who  listened 
with  great  attention,  though  the  knight's  narrative  was  none 
of  the  clearest,  especially  as  his  self-conceit  led  him  to  conceal 
or  abridge  the  details  which  were  necessary  to  render  it  intel- 
ligible. 

"You  are  to  know,"  he  said,  " reverend  father,  that  this 
rustical  ju venal  having  chosen  to  offer  me,  in  the  presence 
of  your  venerable  superior,  yourself,  and  other  excellent  and 
worthy  persons,  besides  the  damsel  Mary  Avenel,  whom  I 
term  my  Discretion  in  all  honour  and  kindness,  a  gross  in- 
sult, rendered  yet  more  intolerable  by  the  time  and  place,  my 
just  resentment  did  so  gain  the  mastery  over  my  discretion, 
that  I  resolved  to  allow  him  the  privileges  of  an  equal,  and 
to  indulge  him  with  the  combat." 

"  But,  sir  knight, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  you  still  leave  two 
matters  very  obscure.  First,  why  the  token  he  presented  to 
you  gave  you  so  much  offence,  as  I  with  others  witnessed; 
and  then  again,  how  the  youth,  whom  you  then  met  for  the 
first,  or  at  least  the  second,  time,  knew  so  much  of  your  his- 
tory as  enabled  him  so  greatly  to  move  you." 

The  knight  coloured  very  deeply. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


327 


."For  your  first  query,"  he  said,  "most  reverend  father,  we 
will,  if  you  please,  pretermit  it  as  nothing  essential  to  the 
matter  in  hand;  and  for  the  second,  I  protest  to  you  that  I 
know  as  little  of  his  means  of  knowledge  as  you  do,  and  that 
I  am  wellnigh  persuaded  he  deals  with  Sathanas,  of  which 
more  anon.  Well,  sir  —in  the  evening,  I  failed  not  to  veil 
my  purpose  writh  a  pleasant  brow,  as  is  the  custom  amongst 
us  martialists,  wrho  never  display  the  bloody  colours  of  defi- 
ance in  our  countenance  until  our  hand  is  armed  to  fight  under 
them.  I  amused  the  fair  Discretion  with  some  canzonettes 
and  other  toys,  which  could  not  but  be  ravishing  to  her  inex- 
perienced ears.  I  arose  in  the  morning,  met  my  antagonist, 
who,  to  say  truth,  for  an  inexperienced  villagio,  comported 
himself  as  stoutly  as  I  could  have  desired.  So,  coming  to 
the  encounter,  reverend  sir,  I  did  try  his  mettle  with  some 
half  a  dozen  of  downright  passes,  with  any  one  of  which  I 
could  have  been  through  his  body,  only  that  I  was  loth  to 
take  so  fatal  an  advantage,  but  rather,  mixing  mercy  with  my 
just  indignation,  studied  to  inflict  upon  him  some  flesh-wound 
of  no  very  fatal  quality.  But,  sir,  in  the  midst  of  my  clem- 
ency, he,  being  instigated,  I  think,  by  the  devil,  did  follow 
up  his  first  offence  with  some  insult  of  the  same  nature. 
Whereupon,  being  eager  to  punish  him,  I  made  an  estrama- 
zone,  and  my  foot  slipping  at  the  same  time  —not  from  any 
fault  of  fence  on  my  part  or  any  advantage  of  skill  on  his, 
but  the  devil  having,  as  I  said,  taken  up  the  matter  in  hand, 
and  the  grass  being  slippery — ere  I  recovered  my  position  I 
encountered  his  sword,  which  he  had  advanced,  with  my  un- 
defended person,  so  that,  as  I  think,  I  was  in  some  sort  run 
through  the  body.  My  juvenal,  being  beyond  measure  appalled 
at  his  own  unexpected  and  unmerited  success  in  this  strange 
encounter,  takes  the  flight  and  leaves  me  there,  and  I  fall 
into  a  dead  swoon  for  the  lack  of  the  blood  I  had  lost  so 
foolishly ;  and  when  I  awake  as  from  a  sound  sleep,  I  find 
myself  lying,  an  it  like  you,  wrapt  up  in  my  cloak  at  the  foot 
of  one  of  the  birch-trees  which  stand  together  in  a  clump  near 
to  this  place.  I  feel  my  limbs,  and  experience  little  pain,  but 
much  weakness ;  I  put  my  hand  to  the  wound — it  was  whole 


328 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  skinned  over  as  you  now  see  it ;  I  rise  and  come  hither ; 
and  in  these  words  you  have  my  whole  day's  story." 

u  I  can  only  reply  to  so  strange  a  tale,"  answered  the  monk, 
"  that  it  is  scarce  possible  that  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  can  expect 
me  to  credit  it.  Here  is  a  quarrel,  the  cause  of  which  you 
conceal;  a  wound  received  in  the  morning,  of  which  there  is 
no  recent  appearance  at  sunset ;  a  grave  rilled  up,  in  which  no 
body  is  deposited;  the  vanquished  found  alive  and  well;  the 
victor  departed  no  man  knows  whither.  These  things,  sir 
knight,  hang  not  so  well  together  that  I  should  receive  them 
as  gospel." 

"Reverend  father,"  answered  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  "I  pray 
you  in  the  first  place  to  observe,  that  if  I  offer  peaceful  and 
civil  justification  of  that  which  I  have  already  averred  to  be 
true,  I  do  so  only  in  devout  deference  to  your  dress  and  to  your 
order,  protesting,  that  to  any  other  opposite,  saving  a  man  of 
religion,  a  lady,  or  my  liege  prince,  I  would  not  deign  to  sup- 
port that  which  I  had  once  attested,  otherwise  than  with  the 
point  of  my  good  sword.  And  so  much  being  premised,  I 
have  to  add,  that  I  can  but  gage  my  honour  as  a  gentleman, 
and  my  faith  as  a  Catholic  Christian,  that  the  things  which  I 
have  described  to  you  have  happened  to  me  as  I  have  described 
them,  and  not  otherwise." 

"  It  is  a  deep  assertion,  sir  knight, "  answered  the  sub-prior ; 
"  yet,  bethink  you,  it  is  only  an  assertion,  and  that  no  reason 
can  be  alleged  why  things  should  be  believed  which  are  so 
contrary  to  reason.  Let  me  pray  you  to  say  whether  the 
grave  which  has  been  seen  at  your  place  of  combat  was  open 
or  closed  when  your  encounter  took  place?" 

"Reverend  father,"  said  the  knight,  "I  will  veil  from  you 
nothing,  but  show  you  each  secret  of  my  bosom;  even  as  the 
pure  fountain  revealeth  the  smallest  pebble  which  graces  the 
sand  at  the  bottom  of  its  crystal  mirror,  and  as  " 

44  Speak  in  plain  terms,  for  the  love  of  Heaven!"  said  the 
monk ;  44  these  holiday  phrases  belong  not  to  solemn  affairs. 
Was  the  grave  open  when  the  conflict  began?" 

"  It  was,"  answered  the  knight,  u  I  acknowledge  it;  even  as 
he  that  acknowledged  " 


THE  MONASTERY. 


329 


"  Nay,  I  pray  you,  fair  son,  forbear  these  similitudes,  and 
observe  me.  On  yesterday  at  even  no  grave  was  found  in 
that  place,  for  Old  Martin  chanced,  contrary  to  his  wont,  to 
go  thither  in  quest  of  a  strayed  sheep.  At  break  of  day,  by 
your  own  confession,  a  grave  was  opened  in  that  spot,  and 
there  a  combat  was  fought ;  only  one  of  the  combatants  ap- 
pears, and  he  is  covered  with  blood,  and  to  all  appearance 
woundless."  Here  the  knight  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 
"  Nay,  fair  son,  hear  me  but  one  moment  —the  grave  is  closed 
and  covered  by  the  sod;  what  can  we  believe,  but  that  it  con- 
ceals the  bloody  corpse  of  the  fallen  duellist?" 

"  By  Heaven,  it  cannot!"  said  the  knight,  "unless  the  juve- 
nal  hath  slain  himself,  and  buried  himself,  in  order  to  place 
me  in  the  predicament  of  his  murderer." 

"The  grave  shall  doubtless  be  explored,  and  that  by  to- 
morrow's dawn,"  said  the  monk;  "I  will  see  it  done  with 
mine  own  eyes." 

"But,"  said  the  prisoner,  "I  protest  against  all  evidence 
which  may  arise  from  its  contents,  and  do  insist  beforehand 
that  whatever  may  be  found  in  that  grave  shall  not  prejudi- 
cate  me  in  my  defence.  I  have  been  so  haunted  by  diabolical 
deceptions  in  this  matter,  that  what  do  I  know  but  that  the 
devil  may  assume  the  form  of  this  rustical  juvenal,  in  order 
to  procure  me  farther  vexation?  I  protest  to  you,  holy  fa- 
ther, it  is  my  very  thought  that  there  is  witchcraft  in  all  that 
hath  befallen  me.  Since  I  entered  into  this  northern  land,  in 
which  men  say  that  sorceries  do  abound,  I,  who  am  held  in 
awe  and  regard  even  by  the  prime  gallants  in  the  court  of 
Feliciana,  have  been  here  bearded  and  taunted  by  a  clod- 
treading  clown.  I,  whom  Vincentio  Saviola  termed  his  nim- 
blest and  most  agile  disciple,  was,  to  speak  briefly,  foiled  by 
a  cow-boy,  who  knew  no  more  of  fence  than  is  used  at  every 
country  wake.  I  am  run,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  through  the 
body,  with  a  very  sufficient  stoccata,  and  faint  on  the  spot; 
and  yet,  when  I  recover,  I  find  myself  without  either  wem  or 
wound,  and  lacking  nothing  of  my  apparel,  saving  my  mur- 
rey-coloured doublet,  slashed  with  satin,  which  1  will  pray 
may  be  inquired  after,  lest  the  devil,  who  transported  me, 


330 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


should  have  dropped  it  in  his  passage  among  some  of  the 
trees  or  bushes — it  being  a  choice  and  most  fanciful  piece  of 
raiment,  which  I  wore  for  the  first  time  at  the  Queen's  pageant 
in  Southwark." 

"  Sir  knight/7  said  the  monk,  "  you  do  again  go  astray  from 
this  matter.  I  inquire  of  you  respecting  that  which  concerns 
the  life  of  another  man,  and,  it  may  be,  touches  your  own 
also,  and  you  answer  me  with  the  tale  of  an  old  double^!" 

"Old!"  exclaimed  the  knight;  "now,  by  the  gods  and 
saints,  if  there  be  a  gallant  at  the  British  court  more  fanci- 
fully considerate  and  more  considerately  fanciful,  more  quaint- 
ly curious  £and  more  curiously  quaint,  in  frequent  changes  of 
all  rich  articles  of  vesture,  becoming  one  who  may  be  account- 
ed point-device  a  courtier,  I  will  give  you  leave  to  term  me  a 
slave  and  a  liar. " 

The  monk  thought,  but  did  not  say,  that  he  had  already  ac- 
quired right  to  doubt  the  veracity  of  the  Euphuist,  considering 
the  marvellous  tale  which  he  had  told.  Yet  his  own  strange 
adventure,  and  that  of  Father  Philip,  rushed  on  his  mind,  and 
forbade  his  coming  to  any  conclusion.  He  contented  himself, 
therefore,  with  observing,  that  these  were  certainly  strange 
incidents,  and  requested  to  know  if  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  had 
any  other  reason  for  suspecting  himself  to  be  in  a  manner  so 
particularly  selected  for  the  sport  of  sorcery  and  witchcraft. 

"Sir  sub-prior,"  said  the  Euphuist,  "the  most  extraordi- 
nary circumstance  remains  behind,  which  alone,  had  I  nei- 
ther been  bearded  in  dispute  nor  foiled  in  combat,  nor  wound- 
ed and  cured  in  the  space  of  a  few  hours,  would  nevertheless 
of  itself,  and  without  any  other  corroborative,  have  compelled 
me  to  believe  myself  the  subject  of  some  malevolent  fascina- 
tion. Reverend  sir,  it  is  not  to  your  ears  that  men  should 
tell  tales  of  love  and  gallantry,  nor  is  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  one 
who,  to  any  ears  whatsoever,  is  wont  to  boast  of  his  fair  accept- 
ance with  the  choice  and  prime  beauties  of  the  court ;  inso- 
much that  a  lady,  none  of  the  least  resplendent  constellations 
which  revolve  in  that  hemisphere  of  honour,  pleasure,  and 
beauty,  but  whose  name  I  here  pretermit,  was  wont  to  call 
me  her  Taciturnity.    Nevertheless,  truth  must  be  spoken; 


THE  MONASTERY. 


331 


and  I  cannot  but  allow,  as  the  general  report  of  the  court,  al- 
lowed in  camps,  and  echoed  back  by  city  and  country,  that 
in  the  alacrity  of  the  accost,  the  tender  delicacy  of  the  regard, 
the  facetiousness  of  the  address,  the  adopting  and  pursuing 
of  the  fancy,  the  solemn  close  and  the  graceful  fall-off,  Piercie 
Shafton  was  accounted  the  only  gallant  of  the  time,  and  so 
well  accepted  amongst  the  choicer  beauties  of  the  age  that  no 
silk-hosed  reveller  of  the  presence-chamber,  or  plumed  jouster 
of  the  tilt-yard,  approached  him  by  a  bow's-length  in  the  la- 
dies' regard,  being  the  mark  at  which  every  well-born  and  gen- 
erous juvenal  aimeth  his  shaft.  Nevertheless,  reverend  sir, 
having  found  in  this  rude  place  something  which  by  blood  and 
birth  might  be  termed  a  lady,  and  being  desirous  to  keep 
my  gallant  humour  in  exercise,  as  well  as  to  show  my  sworn 
devotion  to  the  sex  in  general,  I  did  shoot  off  some  arrows  of 
compliment  at  this  Mary  Avenel,  terming  her  my  Discretion, 
with  other  quaint  and  well-imagined  courtesies,  rather  be- 
stowed out  of  my  bounty  than  warranted  by  her  merit,  or 
perchance  like  unto  the  boyish  fowler,  who,  rather  than  not 
exercise  his  bird-piece,  will  shoot  at  crows  or  magpies  for  lack 
of  better  game  v 

"  Mary  Avenel  is  much  obliged  by  your  notice, "  answered 
the  monk ;  "  but  to  what  does  all  this  detail  of  past  and  pres- 
ent gallantry  conduct  us?" 

"Marry,  to  this  conclusion,"  answered  the  knight;  "that 
either  this  my  Discretion  or  I  myself  am  little  less  than  be- 
witched; for,  instead  of  receiving  my  accost  with  a  gratified 
bow,  answering  my  regard  with  a  suppressed  smile,  accom- 
panying my  falling  off  or  departure  with  a  slight  sigh — hon- 
ours with  which  I  protest  to  you  the  noblest  dancers  and 
proudest  beauties  in  Feliciana  have  graced  my  poor  services — 
she  hath  paid  me  as  little  and  as  cold  regard  as  if  I  had  been 
some  hob-nailed  clown  of  these  bleak  mountains!  Nay,  this 
very  day,  while  I  was  in  the  act  of  kneeling  at  her  feet  to  ren- 
der her  the  succours  of  this  pungent  quintessence  of  purest- 
spirit  distilled  by  the  fairest  hands  of  the  court  of  Feliciana, 
she  pushed  me  from  her  with  looks  which  savoured  of  repug- 
nance, and,  as  I  think,  thrust  at  me  with  her  foot  as  if  to 


332 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


spurn  me  from  her  presence.  These  things,  reverend  father, 
are  strange,  portentous,  unnatural,  and  befall  not  in  the  cur- 
rent of  mortal  affairs,  but  are  symptomatic  of  sorcery  and  fas- 
cination. So  that,  having  given  to  your  reverence  a  perfect, 
simple,  and  plain  account  of  all  that  I  know  concerning  this 
matter,  I  leave  it  to  your  wisdom  to  solve  what  may  be  found 
soluble  in  the  same,  it  being  my  purpose  to-morrow,  with  the 
peep  of  dawn,  to  set  forward  towards  Edinburgh." 

"  I  grieve  to  be  an  interruption  to  your  designs,  sir  knight, " 
said  the  monk,  "  but  that  purpose  of  thine  may  hardly  be  ful- 
filled." 

"How,  reverend  father!"  said  the  knight,  with  an  air  of 
the  utmost  surprise ;  "  if  what  you  say  respects  my  departure, 
understand  that  it  must  be,  for  I  have  so  resolved  it." 

"Sir  knight,"  reiterated  the  sub-prior,  "I  must  once  more 
repeat,  this  cannot  be,  until  the  abbot's  pleasure  be  known  in 
the  matter." 

"  Eeverend  sir, "  said  the  knight,  drawing  himself  up  with 
great  dignity,  "  I  desire  my  hearty  and  thankful  commenda- 
tions to  the  abbot ;  but  in  this  matter  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  his  reverend  pleasure,  designing  only  to  consult  my  own." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  the  sub-prior;  "the  lord  abbot  hath  in 
this  matter  a  voice  potential." 

Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton's  colour  began  to  rise.  "I  marvel,"  he 
said,  "to  hear  your  reverence  talk  thus.  What!  will  you,  for 
the  imagined  death  of  a  rude,  low-born  frampler  and  wran- 
gler, venture  to  impinge  upon  the  liberty  of  the  kinsman  of  the 
house  of  Piercie?" 

"Sir  knight,"  returned  the  sub-prior,  civilly,  "your  high 
lineage  and  your  kindling  anger  will  avail  you  nothing  in  this 
matter.  You  shall  not  come  here  to  seek  a  shelter,  and  then 
spill  our  blood  as  if  it  were  water. " 

"  I  tell  you, "  said  the  knight,  "  once  more,  as  I  have  told 
you  already,  that  there  was  no  blood  spilled  but  mine  own!" 

"  That  remains  to  be  proved, "  replied  the  sub-prior ;  "  we  of 
the  community  of  St.  Mary's  of  Kennaquhair  use  not  to  take 
fairy  tales  in  exchange  for  the  lives  of  our  liege  vassals." 

"  We  of  the  house  of  Piercie, "  answered  Shaf ton,  "  brook 


THE  MONASTERY.  333 

neither  threats  nor  restraint.  I  say  I  will  travel  to-morrow, 
happen  what  may!" 

"And  I,w  answered  the  sub-prior,  in  the  same  tone  of  de- 
termination, "  say  that  I  will  break  your  journey,  come  what 
may!" 

"Who  shall  gainsay  me?"  said  the  knight,  "if  I  make  my 
way  by  force?" 

"  You  will  judge  wisely  to  think  ere  you  make  such  an  at- 
tempt, "  answered  the  monk,  with  composure ;  "  there  are  men 
enough  in  the  halidome  to  vindicate  its  rights  over  those  who 
dare  to  infringe  them." 

"  My  cousin  of  Northumberland  will  know  how  to  revenge 
this  usage  to  a  beloved  kinsman  so  near  to  his  blood, "  said 
the  Englishman. 

"  The  lord  abbot  will  know  how  to  protect  the  rights  of  his 
territory,  both  with  the  temporal  and  spiritual  sword,"  said 
the  monk.  "  Besides,  consider,  were  we  to  send  you  to  your 
kinsman  at  Alnwick  or  Warkworth  to-morrow,  he  dare  do 
nothing  but  transmit  you  in  fetters  to  the  Queen  of  England. 
Bethink,  sir  knight,  that  you  stand  on  slippery  ground,  and 
will  act  most  wisely  in  reconciling  yourself  to  be  a  prisoner 
in  this  place  until  the  abbot  shall  decide  the  matter.  There 
are  armed  men  enow  to  countervail  all  your  efforts  at  escape. 
Let  patience  and  resignation,  therefore,  arm  you  to  a  neces- 
sary submission." 

So  saying,  he  clapped  his  hands  and  called  aloud.  Edward 
entered,  accompanied  by  two  young  men  who  had  already 
joined  him  and  were  well  armed. 

"  Edward, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  you  will  supply  the  English 
knight  here  in  this  spence  with  suitable  food  and  accommoda- 
tion for  the  night,  treating  him  with  as  much  kindness  as  if 
nothing  had  happened  between  you.  But  you  will  place  a 
sufficient  guard,  and  look  carefully  that  he  make  not  his  escape. 
Should  he  attempt  to  break  forth,  resist  him  to  the  death; 
but  in  no  other  case  harm  a  hair  of  his  head,  as  you  shall  be 
answerable. " 

Edward  Glendinning  replied :  "  That  I  may  obey  your  com- 
mands, reverend  sir,  I  will  not  again  offer  myself  to  this  per- 


334 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


son's  presence;  for  shame  it  were  to  me  to  break  the  peace  of 
the  halidome,  but  not  less  shame  to  leave  my  brother's  death 
unavenged. " 

As  he  spoke,  his  lips  grew  livid,  the  blood  forsook  his 
cheek,  and  he  was  about  to  leave  the  apartment,  when  the 
sub-prior  recalled  him,  and  said  in  a  solemn  tone :  "  Edward, 
I  have  known  you  from  infancy.  I  have  done  what  lay 
within  my  reach  to  be  of  use  to  you.  I  say  nothing  of  what 
you  owe  to  me  as  the  representative  of  your  spiritual  supe- 
rior. I  say  nothing  of  the  duty  from  the  vassal  to  the  sub- 
prior.  But  Father  Eustace  expects  from  the  pupil  whom  he 
has  nurtured — he  expects  from  Edward  Glendinning,  that  he 
will  not,  by  any  deed  of  sudden  violence,  however  justified 
in  his  own  mind  by  the  provocation,  break  through  the  re- 
spect due  to  public  justice,  or  that  which  he  has  an  especial 
right  to  claim  from  him." 

"  Fear  nothing,  my  reverend  father,  for  so  in  an  hundred 
senses  may  I  well  term  you, "  said  the  young  man ;  "  fear  not, 
I  would  say,  that  I  will  in  anything  diminish  the  respect  I 
owe  to  the  venerable  community  by  whom  we  have  so  long 
been  protected,  far  less  that  I  will  do  aught  which  can  be 
personally  less  than  respectful  to  you.  But  the  blood  of  my 
brother  must  not  cry  for  vengeance  in  vain :  your  reverence 
knows  our  Border  creed." 

"  i  Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the  Lord,  and  I  will  requite  it, 9  " 
answered  the  monk.  "  The  heathenish  custom  of  deadly  feud 
which  prevails  in  this  land,  through  which  each  man  seeks 
vengeance  at  his  own  hand  when  the  death  of  a  friend  or 
kinsman  has  chanced,  hath  already  deluged  our  vales  with  the 
blood  of  Scottish  men,  spilled  by  the  hands  of  countrymen  and 
kindred.  It  were  endless  to  count  up  the  fatal  results.  On 
the  Eastern  Border,  the  Homes  are  at  feud  with  the  Swintons 
and  Cockburns;  in  our  Middle  Marches,  the  Scotts  and  Kerrs 
have  spilled  as  much  brave  blood  in  domestic  feud  as  might 
have  fought  a  pitched  field  in  England,  could  they  have  but 
forgiven  and  forgotten  a  casual  rencounter  that  placed  their 
names  in  opposition  to  each  other.  On  the  west  frontier,  the 
Johnstones  are  at  war  with  the  Maxwells,  the  Jardines  with 


THE  MONASTERY. 


335 


the  Bells,  drawing  with  them  the  flower  of  the  country,  which 
should  place  their  breasts  as  a  bulwark  against  England,  into 
private  and  bloody  warfare,  of  which  it  is  the  only  end  to 
waste  and  impair  the  forces  of  the  country,  already  divided 
in  itself.  Do  not,  my  dear  son  Edward,  permit  this  bloody 
prejudice  to  master  your  mind.  I  cannot  ask  you  to  think 
of  the  crime  supposed  as  if  the  blood  spilled  had  been  less 
dear  to  you.  Alas !  I  know  that  is  impossible.*  But  I  do  re- 
quire you,  in  proportion  to  your  interest  in  the  supposed  suf- 
ferer— for  as  yet  the  whole  is  matter  of  supposition — to  bear 
on  your  mind  the  evidence  on  which  the  guilt  of  the  accused 
person  must  be  tried.  He  hath  spoken  with  me,  and  I  con- 
fess his  tale  is  so  extraordinary  that  I  should  have,  without 
a  moment's  hesitation,  rejected  it  as  incredible,  but  that  an 

affair  which  chanced  to  myself  in  this  very  glen  More 

of  that  another  time.  Suffice  it  for  the  present  to  say  that, 
from  what  I  have  myself  experienced,  I  deem  it  possible — 
that,  extraordinary  as  Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton's  story  may  seem, 
I  hold  it  not  utterly  impossible." 

" Father,"  said  Edward  Glendinning,  when  he  saw  that  his 
preceptor  paused,  unwilling  farther  to  explain  upon  what 
grounds  he  was  inclined  to  give  a  certain  degree  of  credit  to 
Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton's  story,  while  he  admitted  it  as  improb- 
able— "  father  to  me  you  have  been  in  every  sense.  You  know 
that  my  hand  grasped  more  readily  to  the  book  than  to  the 
sword;  and  that  I  lacked  utterly  the  ready  and  bold  spirit 

which  distinguished  "    Here  his  voice  faltered,  and  he 

paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  went  on  with  resolution  and 
rapidity — "  I  would  say,  that  I  was  unequal  to  Halbert  in 
promptitude  of  heart  and  of  hand;  but  Halbert  is  gone,  and 
I  stand  his  representative,  and  that  of  my  father — his  succes- 
sor in  all  his  rights  (while  he  said  this  his  eyes  shot  fire),  and 
bound  to  assert  and  maintain  them  as  he  would  have  done ; 
therefore  I  am  a  changed  man,  increased  in  courage  as  in  my 
rights  and  pretensions.  And,  reverend  father,  respectfully, 
but  plainly  and  firmly,  do  I  say,  his  blood,  if  it  has  been 
shed  by  this  man,  shall  be  atoned.  Halbert  shall  not  sleep 
neglected  in  his  lonely  grave,  as  if  with  him  the  spirit  of  my 


336 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


father  had  ceased  for  ever.  His  blood  flows  in  my  veins,  and 
while  his  has  been  poured  forth  unrequited,  mine  will  permit 
me  no  rest.  My  poverty  and  meanness  of  rank  shall  not  avail 
the  lordly  murderer.  My  calm  nature  and  peaceful  studies 
shall  not  be  his  protection.  Even  the  obligations,  holy  fa- 
ther, which  I  acknowlege  to  you,  shall  not  be  his  protection. 
I  wait  with  patience  the  judgment  of  the  abbot  and  chapter 
for  the  slaughter  of  one  of  their  most  anciently  descended 
vassals.  If  they  do  right  to  my  brother's  memory,  it  is  well. 
But  mark  me,  father,  if  they  shall  fail  in  rendering  me  that 
justice,  I  bear  a  heart  and  a  hand  which,  though  I  love  not 
such  extremities,  are  capable  of  remedying  such  an  error. 
He  who  takes  up  my  brother's  succession  must  avenge  his 
death." 

The  monk  perceived  with  surprise  that  Edward,  with  his 
extreme  diffidence,  humility,  and  obedient  assiduity,  for  such 
were  his  general  characteristics,  had  still  boiling  in  his  veins 
the  wild  principles  of  those  from  whom  he  was  descended, 
and  by  whom  he  was  surrounded.  His  eyes  sparkled,  his 
frame  was  agitated,  and  the  extremity  of  his  desire  of  ven- 
geance seemed  to  give  a  vehemence  to  his  manner  resembling 
the  restlessness  of  joy. 

"May  God  help  us,"  said  Father  Eustace,  "for,  frail 
wretches  as  we  are,  we  cannot  help  ourselves  under  sudden 
and  strong  temptation.  Edward,  I  will  rely  on  your  word 
that  you  do  nothing  rashly." 

u  That  will  I  not, "  said  Edward—"  that,  my  better  than 
father,  I  surely  will  not.  But  the  blood  of  my  brother — the 
tears  of  my  mother — and — and — and  of  Mary  Avenel,  shall 
not  be  shed  in  vain.  I  will  not  deceive  you,  father :  if  this 
Piercie  Shafton  hath  slain  my  brother,  he  dies,  if  the  whole 
blood  of  the  whole  house  of  Piercie  were  in  his  veins." 

There  was  a  deep  and  solemn  determination  in  the  utter- 
ance of  Edward  Glendinning,  expressive  of  a  rooted  resolur- 
tion.  The  sub-prior  sighed  deeply,  and  for  the  moment  yield- 
ed to  circumstances,  and  urged  the  acquiescence  of  his  pupil 
no  farther.  He  commanded  lights  to  be  placed  in  the  lower 
chamber,  which  for  a  time  he  paced  in  silence. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


337 


A  thousand  ideas,  and  even  differing  principles,  debated 
with  each  other  in  his  bosom.  He  greatly  doubted  the  Eng- 
lish knight's  account  of  the  duel,  and  of  what  had  followed 
it.  Yet  the  extraordinary  and  supernatural  circumstances 
which  had  befallen  the  sacristan  and  himself  in  that  very 
glen  prevented  him  from  being  absolutely  incredulous  on  the 
score  of  the  wonderful  wound  and  recovery  of  Sir  Piercie 
Shafton,  and  prevented  him  from  at  once  condemning  as  im- 
possible that  which  was  altogether  improbable.  Then  he  was 
at  a  loss  how  to  control  the  fraternal  affections  of  Edward,  with 
respect  to  whom  he  felt  something  like  the  keeper  of  a  wild 
animal,  a  lion's  whelp  or  tiger's  cub,  which  he  has  held  under 
his  command  from  infancy,  but  which,  when  grown  to  matur- 
ity, on  some  sudden  provocation  displays  his  fangs  and  talons, 
erects  his  crest,  resumes  his  savage  nature,  and  bids  defiance 
at  once  to  his  keeper  and  to  all  mankind. 

How  to  restrain  and  mitigate  an  ire  which  the  universal 
example  of  the  times  rendered  deadly  and  inveterate,  was  suffi- 
cient cause  of  anxiety  to  Father  Eustace.  But  he  had  also  to 
consider  the  situation  of  his  community,  dishonoured  and  de- 
graded by  submitting  to  suffer  the  slaughter  of  a  vassal  to 
pass  unavenged — a  circumstance  which  of  itself  might  in  those 
difficult  times  have  afforded  pretext  for  a  revolt  among  their 
wavering  adherents,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  exposed  the  com- 
munity to  imminent  danger,  should  they  proceed  against  a 
subject  of  England  of  high  degree,  connected  with  the  house 
of  Northumberland  and  other  northern  families  of  high  rank, 
who,  as  they  possessed  the  means,  could  not  be  supposed  to 
lack  inclination  to  wreak  upon  the  patrimony  of  St.  Mary  of 
Kennaquhair  any  violence  which  might  be  offered  to  their 
kinsman. 

In  either  case,  the  sub-prior  well  knew  that,  the  ostensible 
cause  of  feud,  insurrection,  or  incursion  being  once  afforded, 
the  case  would  not  be  ruled  either  by  reason  or  by  evidence, 
and  he  groaned  in  spirit  when,  upon  counting  up  the  chances 
which  arose  in  this  ambiguous  dilemma,  he  found  he  had  only 
a  choice  of  difficulties.  He  was  a  monk,  but  he  felt  also,  as 
a  man,  indignant  at  the  supposed  slaughter  of  young  Glendin- 
22 


338 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ning  by  one  skilful  in  all  the  practice  of  arms,  in  which  the 
vassal  of  the  monastery  was  most  likely  to  be  deficient;  and 
to  aid  the  resentment  which  he  felt  for  the  loss  of  a  youth 
whom  he  had  known  from  infancy,  came  in  full  force  the 
sense  of  dishonour  arising  to  his  community  from  passing  over 
so  gross  an  insult  unavenged.  Then  the  light  in  which  it 
might  be  viewed  by  those  who  at  present  presided  in  the 
stormy  court  of  Scotland,  attached  as  they  were  to  the  Kefor- 
mation,  and  allied  by  common  faith  and  common  interest  with 
Queen  Elizabeth,  was  a  formidable  subject  of  apprehension. 
The  sub-prior  well  knew  how  they  lusted  after  the  revenues  of 
the  church  (to  express  it  in  the  ordinary  phrase  of  the  relig- 
ious of  the  time),  and  how  readily  they  would  grasp  at  such 
a  pretext  for  encroaching  on  those  of  St.  Mary's  as  would  be 
afforded  by  the  suffering  to  pass  unpunished  the  death  of  a 
native  Scottishman  by  a  Catholic  Englishman,  a  rebel  to  Queen 
Elizabeth. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  deliver  up  to  England,  or,  which  was 
nearly  the  same  thing,  to  the  Scottish  administration,  an  Eng- 
lish knight  leagued  with  the  Piercie  by  kindred  and  political 
intrigue,  a  faithful  follower  of  the  Catholic  Church,  who  had 
fled  to  the  halidome  for  protection,  was,  in  the  estimation  of 
the  sub-prior,  an  act  most  unworthy  in  itself,  and  meriting  the 
malediction  of  Heaven,  besides  being,  moreover,  fraught  with 
great  temporal  risk.  If  the  government  of  Scotland  was  now 
almost  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  Protestant  party,  the 
Queen  was  still  a  Catholic,  and  there  was  no  knowing  when, 
amid  the  sudden  changes  which  agitated  that  tumultuous  coun- 
try, she  might  find  herself  at  the  head  of  her  own  affairs,  and 
able  to  protect  those  of  her  own  faith.  Then  if  the  court  of 
England  and  its  Queen  were  zealously  Protestant,  the  north- 
ern counties,  whose  friendship  or  enmity  were  of  most  conse- 
quence in  the  first  instance  to  the  community  of  St.  Mary's, 
contained  many  Catholics,  the  heads  of  whom  were  able,  and 
must  be  supposed  willing,  to  avenge  any  injury  suffered  by 
Sir  Piercie  Shafton. 

On  either  side,  the  sub-prior,  thinking,  according  to  his 
sense  of  duty,  most  anxiously  for  the  safety  and  welfare  of 


THE  MONASTERY. 


339 


his  monastery,  saw  the  greatest  risk  of  damage,  blame,  in- 
road, and  confiscation.  The  only  course  on  which  he  could 
determine  was  to  stand  by  the  helm  like  a  resolute  pilot, 
watch  every  contingence,  do  his  best  to  weather  each  reef  and 
shoal,  and  commit  the  rest  to  Heaven  and  his  patroness. 

As  he  left  the  apartment,  the  knight  called  after  him,  be- 
seeching he  would  order  his  trunk-mails  to  be  sent  in  to  his 
apartment,  understanding  he  was  to  be  guarded  there  for  the 
night,  as  he  wished  to  make  some  alteration  in  his  apparel. 1 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  the  monk,  muttering  as  he  went  up  the 
winding  stair,  "carry  him  his  trumpery  with  all  despatch. 
Alas!  that  man,  with  so  many  noble  objects  of  pursuit,  will 
amuse  himself  like  a  jackanape  with  a  laced  jerkin  and  a  cap 
and  bells !  I  must  now  to  the  melancholy  work  of  consoling 
that  which  is  wellnigh  inconsolable,  a  mother  weeping  for 
her  first-born." 

Advancing,  after  a  gentle  knock,  into  the  apartment  of  the 
women,  he  found  that  Mary  Avenel  had  retired  to  bed  ex- 
tremely indisposed,  and  that  Dame  Glendinning  and  Tibb 
were  indulging  their  sorrows  by  the  side  of  a  decaying  fire, 
and  by  the  light  of  a  small  iron  lamp,  or  cruize,  as  it  was 
termed.  Poor  Elspeth's  apron  was  thrown  over  her  head,  and 
bitterly  did  she  sob  and  weep  for  "  her  beautiful,  her  brave — 
the  very  image  of  her  dear  Simon  Glendinning,  the  stay  of  her 
widowhood  and  the  support  of  her  old  age." 

The  faithful  Tibb  echoed  her  complaints,  and,  more  violent- 
ly clamorous,  made  deep  promises  of  revenge  on  Sir  Piercie 
Shafton,  "  if  there  were  a  man  left  in  the  south  that  could 
draw  a  whinger,  or  a  woman  that  could  thraw  a  rape."  The 
presence  of  the  sub-prior  imposed  silence  on  these  clamours. 
He  sate  down  by  the  unfortunate  mother,  and  essayed,  by  such 
topics  as  his  religion  and  reason  suggested,  to  interrupt  the 
current  of  Dame  Glendinning's  feelings;  but  the  attempt  was 
in  vain.  She  listened,  indeed,  with  some  little  interest,  while 
he  pledged  his  word  and  his  influence  with  the  abbot  that 
the  familly  which  had  lost  their  eldest-born  by  means  of  a 
guest  received  at  his  command  should  experience  particular 
1  See  Foppery  of  the  Sixteenth  Century.    Note  20. 


340 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


protection  at  the  hands  of  the  community ;  and  that  the  fief 
which  belonged  to  Simon  Glendinning  should,  with  extended 
bounds  and  added  privileges,  be  conferred  on  Edward;  but 
it  was  only  for  a  very  brief  space  that  the  mother's  sobs  were 
apparently  softer  and  her  grief  more  mild.  She  soon  blamed 
herself  for  casting  a  moment's  thought  upon  world's  gear 
while  poor  Halbert  was  lying  stretched  in  his  bloody  shirt. 
The  sub-prior  was  not  more  fortunate  when  he  promised  that 
Halbert's  body  "should  be  removed  to  hallowed  ground,  and 
his  soul  secured  by  the  prayers  of  the  church  in  his  behalf." 
Grief  would  have  its  natural  course,  and  the  voice  of  the  com- 
forter was  wasted  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

He  is  at  liberty,  I  have  ventured  for  him ! 

.   if  the  law 

Find  and  condemn  me  for't,  some  living  wenches, 
Some  honest-hearted  maids  will  sing  my  dirge, 
And  tell  to  memory  my  death  was  noble, 
Dying  almost  a  martyr. 

The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen. 

The  sub-prior  of  St.  Mary's,  in  taking  his  departure  from 
the  spence  in  which  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  was  confined,  and  in 
which  some  preparations  were  made  for  his  passing  the  night, 
as  the  room  which  might  be  most  conveniently  guarded,  left 
more  than  one  perplexed  person  behind  him.  There  was  con- 
nected with  this  chamber,  and  opening  into  it,  a  small  "  out- 
shot,"  or  projecting  part  of  the  building,  occupied  by  a  little 
sleeping  apartment,  which  upon  ordinary  occasions  was  that 
of  Mary  Avenel,  and  which,  in  the  unusual  number  of  guests 
who  had  come  to  the  tower  on  the  former  evening,  had  also 
accommodated  Mysie  Happer,  the  miller's  daughter;  for  an- 
ciently, as  well  as  in  the  present  day,  a  Scottish  house  was 
always  rather  too  narrow  and  limited  for  the  extent  of  the 
owner's  hospitality,  and  some  shift  and  contrivance  was  nec- 
essary, upon  any  unusual  occasion,  to  ensure  the  accommoda- 
tion of  all  the  guests. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


341 


The  fatal  news  of  Halbert  Glendhming's  death  had  thrown 
all  former  arrangements  into  confusion.  Mary  Avenel,  whose 
case  required  immediate  attention,  had  been  transported  into 
the  apartment  hitherto  occupied  by  Halbert  and  his  brother, 
as  the  latter  proposed  to  watch  all  night  in  order  to  prevent 
the  escape  of  the  prisoner.  Poor  Mysie  had  been  altogether 
overlooked,  and  had  naturally  enough  betaken  herself  to  the 
little  apartment  which  she  had  hitherto  occupied,  ignorant 
that  the  spence,  through  which  lay  the  only  access  to  it,  was 
to  be  the  sleeping-chamber  of  Sir  Piercie  Shafton.  The  meas- 
ures taken  for  securing  him  there  had  been  so  sudden  that 
she  was  not  aware  of  it,  until  she  found  that  the  other  females 
had  been  removed  from  the  spence  by  the  sub-prior  ?s  direc- 
tion, and  having  once  missed  the  opportunity  of  retreating 
along  with  them,  bashfulness,  and  the  high  respect  which  she 
was  taught  to  bear  to  the  monks,  prevented  her  venturing 
forth  alone,  and  intruding  herself  on  the  presence  of  Father 
Eustace,  while  in  secret  conference  with  the  Southron.  There 
appeared  no  remedy  but  to  wait  till  their  interview  was  over; 
and,  as  the  door  was  thin,  and  did  not  shut  very  closely,  she 
could  hear  every  word  which  passed  betwixt  them. 

It  thus  happened,  that  without  any  intended  intrusion  on 
her  part,  she  became  privy  to  the  whole  conversation  of  the 
sub-prior  and  the  English  knight,  and  could  also  observe  from 
the  window  of  her  little  retreat  that  more  than  one  of  the 
young  men  summoned  by  Edward  arrived  successively  at  the 
tower.  These  circumstances  led  her  to  entertain  most  serious 
apprehension  that  the  life  of  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  was  in  great 
and  instant  peril. 

Woman  is  naturally  compassionate,  and  not  less  willingly 
so  when  youth  and  fair  features  are  on  the  side  of  him  who 
claims  her  sympathy.  The  handsome  presence,  elaborate 
dress  and  address  of  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  which  had  failed 
to  make  any  favourable  impression  on  the  grave  and  lofty 
character  of  Mary  Avenel,  had  completely  dazzled  and  bewil- 
dered the  poor  Maid  of  the  Mill.  The  knight  had  perceived 
this  result,  and  flattered  by  seeing  that  his  merit  was  not 
universally  underrated,  he  had  bestowed  on  Mysie  a  good  deal 


342 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


more  of  his  courtesy  than  in  his  opinion  her  rank  warranted. 
It  was  not  cast  away,  but  received  with  a  devout  sense  of  his 
condescension,  and  with  gratitude  for  his  personal  notice, 
which,  joined  to  her  fears  for  his  safety  and  the  natural  ten- 
derness of  her  disposition,  began  to  make  wild  work  in  her 
heart. 

"  To  be  sure  it  was  very  wrong  in  him  to  slay  Halbert  Glen- 
dinning,"  it  was  thus  she  argued  the  case  with  herself,  "but 
then  he  was  a  gentleman  born,  and  a  soldier,  and  so  gentle 
and  courteous  withal  that  she  was  sure  the  quarrel  had  been 
all  of  young  Glendinning's  own  seeking;  for  it  was  well 
known  that  both  these  lads  were  so  taken  up  with  that  Mary 
Avenel  that  they  never  looked  at  another  lass  in  the  halidome, 
more  than  if  they  were  of  a  different  degree.  And  then  Hal- 
bert's  dress  was  as  clownish  as  his  manners  were  haughty; 
and  this  poor  young  gentleman,  who  was  habited  like  any 
prince,  banished  from  his  own  land,  was  first  drawn  into  a 
quarrel  by  a  rude  brangler,  and  then  persecuted  and  like  to 
be  put  to  death  by  his  kin  and  allies." 

Mysie  wept  bitterly  at  the  thought,  and  then  her  heart  ris- 
ing against  such  cruelty  and  oppression  to  a  defenceless  stran- 
ger, who  dressed  with  so  much  skill,  and  spoke  with  so  much 
grace,  she  began  to  consider  whether  she  could  not  render  him 
some  assistance  in  his  extremity. 

Her  mind  was  now  entirely  altered  from  its  original  pur- 
pose. At  first  her  only  anxiety  had  been  to  find  the  means 
of  escaping  from  the  interior  apartment,  without  being  noticed 
by  any  one ;  but  now  she  began  to  think  that  Heaven  had 
placed  her  there  for  the  safety  and  protection  of  the  perse- 
cuted stranger.  She  was  of  a  simple  and  affectionate,  but  at 
the  same  time  an  alert  and  enterprising,  character,  possessing 
more  than  female  strength  of  body,  and  more  than  female 
courage,  though  with  feelings  as  capable  of  being  bewildered 
with  gallantry  of  dress  and  language  as  a  fine  gentleman  of 
any  generation  would  have  desired  to  exercise  his  talents  upon. 
"I  will  save  him,"  she  thought,  "that  is  the  first  thing  to  be 
resolved;  and  then  I  wonder  what  he  will  say  to  the  poor 
miller'^  maiden,  that  has  done  for  him  what  all  the  dainty 


THE  MONASTERY. 


343 


dames  in  London  or  Holyrood  would  have  been  afraid  to  ven- 
ture upon." 

Prudence  began  to  pull  her  sleeve  as  she  indulged  specula- 
tions so  hazardous,  and  hinted  to  her  that  the  warmer  Sir 
Piercie  Shaf ton's  gratitude  might  prove,  it  was  the  more  likely 
to  be  fraught  with  danger  to  his  benefactress.  Alas !  poor 
Prudence,  thou  mayst  say  with  our  moral  teacher : 

I  preach  for  ever,  but  I  preach  in  vain. 

The  miller's  maiden,  while  you  pour  your  warning  into  her 
unwilling  bosom,  has  glanced  her  eye  on  the  small  mirror  by 
which  she  has  placed  her  little  lamp,  and  it  returns  to  her  a 
countenance  and  eyes,  pretty  and  sparkling  at  all  times,  but 
ennobled  at  present  with  the  energy  of  expression  proper  to 
those  who  have  dared  to  form,  and  stand  prepared  to  execute, 
deeds  of  generous  audacity. 

"Will  these  features — will  these  eyes,  joined  to  the  benefit 
I  am  about  to  confer  upon  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  do  nothing 
towards  removing  the  distance  of  rank  between  us?" 

Such  was  the  question  which  female  vanity  asked  of  fancy ; 
and  though  even  fancy  dared  not  answer  in  a  ready  affirma- 
tive, a  middle  conclusion  was  adopted.  "  Let  me  first  succour 
the  gallant  youth,  and  trust  to  fortune  for  the  rest. " 

Banishing,  therefore,  from  her  mind  everything  that  wa§ 
personal  to  herself,  the  rash  but  generous  girl  turned  her 
whole  thoughts  to  the  means  of  executing  this  enterprise. 

The  difficulties  which  interposed  were  of  no  ordinary  na- 
ture. The  vengeance  of  the  men  of  that  country,  in  cases  of 
deadly  feud,  that  is,  in  cases  of  a  quarrel  excited  by  the  slaugh- 
ter of  any  of  their  relations,  was  one  of  their  most  marked 
characteristics ;  and  Edward,  however  gentle  in  other  respects, 
was  so  fond  of  his  brother  that  there  could  be  no  doubt  that 
he  would  be  as  signal  in  his  revenge  as  the  customs  of  the 
country  authorised.  There  were  to  be  passed  the  inner  door 
of  the  apartment,  the  two  gates  of  the  tower  itself,  and  the 
gate  of  the  courtyard,  ere  the  prisoner  was  at  liberty ;  and 
then  a  guide  and  means  of  flight  were  to  be  provided,  other- 
wise ultimate  escape  was  impossible.    But  where  the  will  of 


344 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


woman  is  strongly  bent  on  the  accomplishment  of  such  a  pur- 
pose, her  wit  is  seldom  baffled  by  difficulties,  however  embar- 
rassing. 

The  sub-prior  had  not  long  left  the  apartment  ere  Mysie 
had  devised  a  scheme  for  Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton's  freedom,  dar- 
ing indeed,  but  likely  to  be  successful,  if  dexterously  con- 
ducted. It  was  necessary,  however,  that  she  should  remair 
where  she  was  till  so  late  an  hour  that  all  in  the  tower  should 
have  betaken  themselves  to  repose,  excepting  those  whose  duty 
made  them  watchers.  The  interval  she  employed  in  observ- 
ing the  movements  of  the  person  in  whose  service  she  was 
thus  boldly  a  volunteer. 

She  could  hear  Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton  pace  the  floor  to  and  fro, 
in  reflection  doubtless  on  his  own  untoward  fate  and  precari- 
ous situation.  By  and  by  she  heard  him  making  a  rustling 
among  his  trunks,  which,  agreeably  to  the  order  of  the  sub- 
prior,  had  been  placed  in  the  apartment  to  which  he  was  con- 
fined, and  which  he  was  probably  amusing  more  melancholy 
thoughts  by  examining  and  arranging.  Then  she  could  hear 
him  resume  his  walk  through  the  room,  and,  as  if  his  spirits 
had  been  somewhat  relieved  and  elevated  by  the  survey  of 
his  wardrobe,  she  could  distinguish  that  at  one  turn  he  half- 
recited  a  sonnet,  at  another  half -whistled  a  galliard,  and  at 
the  third  hummed  a  saraband.  At  length  she  could  under- 
stand that  he  extended  himself  on  the  temporary  couch  which 
had  been  allotted  to  him,  after  muttering  his  prayers  hastily, 
and  in  a  short  time  she  concluded  he  must  be  fast  asleep. 

She  employed  the  moments  which  intervened  in  considering 
her  enterprise  under  every  different  aspect;  and,  dangerous 
as  it  was,  the  steady  view  which  she  took  of  the  various  perils 
accompanying  her  purpose  furnished  her  with  plausible  de- 
vices for  obviating  them.  Love  and  generous  compassion, 
which  give  singly  such  powerful  impulse  to  the  female  heart, 
were  in  this  case  united,  and  championed  her  to  the  last  ex- 
tremity of  hazard. 

It  was  an  hour  past  midnight.  All  in  the  tower  slept 
soundly  but  those  who  had  undertaken  to  guard  the  English 
prisoner;  or  if  sorrow  and  suffering  drove  sleep  from  the  bed 


THE  MONASTERY. 


345 


of  Dame  Glend inning  and  her  foster-daughter,  they  were  too 
much  wrapt  in  their  own  griefs  to  attend  to  external  sounds. 
The  means  of  striking  light  were  at  hand  in  the  small  apart- 
ment, and  thus  the  miller's  maiden  was  enabled  to  light  and 
trim  a  small  lamp.  With  a  trembling  step  and  throbbing 
heart,  she  undid  the  door  which  separated  her  from  the  apart- 
ment in  which  the  Southron  knight  was  confined,  and  almost 
flinched  from  her  fixed  purpose  when  she  found  herself  in  the 
same  room  with  the  sleeping  prisoner.  She  scarcely  trusted 
herself  to  look  upon  him,  as  he  lay  wrapped  in  his  cloak,  and 
fast  asleep  upon  the  pallet  bed,  but  turned  her  eyes  away 
while  she  gently  pulled  his  mantle  with  no  more  force  than 
was  just  equal  to  awaken  him.  He  moved  not  until  she  had 
twitched  his  cloak  a  second  and  a  third  time,  and  then  at 
length  looking  up,  was  about  to  make  an  exclamation  in  the 
suddenness  of  his  surprise. 

Mysie's  bashfulness  was  conquered  by  her  fear.  She  placed 
her  fingers  in  her  lips,  in  token  that  he  must  observe  the  most 
strict  silence,  and  then  pointed  to  the  door  to  intimate  that  it 
was  watched. 

Sir  Piercie  Shafton  now  collected  himself,  and  sat  upright 
on  his  couch.  He  gazed  with  surprise  on  the  graceful  figure 
of  the  young  woman  who  stood  before  him;  her  well-formed 
person,  her  flowing  hair,  and  the  outline  of  her  features 
showed  dimly,  and  yet  to  advantage,  by  the  partial  and  feeble 
light  which  she  held  in  her  hand.  The  romantic  imagination 
of  the  gallant  would  soon  have  coined  some  compliment  proper 
for  the  occasion,  but  Mysie  left  him  not  time. 

"I  come,"  she  said,  "to  save  your  life,  which  is  else  in 
great  peril ;  if  you  answer  me,  speak  as  low  as  you  can,  for 
they  have  sentinelled  your  door  with  armed  men." 

"Comeliest  of  millers'  daughters,"  answered  Sir  Piercie, 
who  by  this  time  was  sitting  upright  in  his  couch,  "  dread 
nothing  for  my  safety.  Credit  me  that,  as  in  very  truth  I 
have  not  spilled  the  red  puddle,  which  these  villagios  call  the 
blood,  of  their  most  uncivil  relation,  so  I  am  under  no  appre- 
hension whatever  for  the  issue  of  this  restraint,  seeing  that  it 
cannot  but  be  harmless  to  me.    Natheless,  to  thee,  0  most 


346 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


rnolendinar  beauty,  I  return  the  thanks  which  thy  courtesy 
may  justly  claim." 

"Nay,  but,  sir  knight/'  answered  the  maiden,  in  a  whisper 
as  low  as  is  was  tremulous,  "  I  deserve  no  thanks,  unless  you 
will  act  by  my  counsel.  Edward  Glendinning  hath  sent  for 
Dan  of  the  Howlethirst  and  young  Adie  of  Aikenshaw,  and 
they  are  come  with  three  men  more,  and  with  bow,  and  jack, 
and  spear,  and  I  heard  them  say  to  each  other  and  to  Edward, 
as  they  alighted  in  the  court,  that  they  would  have  amends 
for  the  death  of  their  kinsman,  if  the  monk's  cowl  should 
smoke  for  it.  And  the  vassals  are  so  wilful  now  that  the 
abbot  himself  dare  not  control  them,  for  fear  they  turn  here- 
tics, and  refuse  to  pay  their  feu-duties." 

"  In  faith,  "  said  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  "it  may  be  a  shrewd 
temptation,  and  perchance  the  monks  may  rid  themselves  of 
trouble  and  cumber  by  handing  me  over  the  march  to  Sir  John 
Poster  or  Lord  Hunsdon,  the  English  wardens,  and  so  make 
peace  with  their  vassals  and  with  England  at  once.  Eair- 
est  Molinara,  I  will  for  once  walk  by  thy  rede,  and  if  thou 
dost  contrive  to  extricate  me  from  this  vile  kennel,  I  will  so 
celebrate  thy  wit  and  beauty  that  the  Baker's  Xymph  of  Ra- 
phael d'L^rbino  shall  seem  but  a  gipsy  in  comparison  of  my 
Molinara." 

"  I  pray  you,  then,  be  silent,"  said  the  miller's  daughter; 
"  for  if  your  speech  betrays  that  you  are  awake,  my  scheme 
fails  utterly,  and  it  is  Heaven's  mercy  and  Our  Lady's  that 
we  are  not  already  overheard  and  discovered." 

"  I  am  silent, "  replied  the  Southron,  "  even  as  the  starless 
night;  but  yet,  if  this  contrivance  of  thine  should  endanger 
thy  safety,  fair  and  no  less  kind  than  fair  damsel,  it  were  ut- 
terly unworthy  of  me  to  accept  it  at  thy  hand." 

"Do  not  think  of  me/;  said  Mysie,  hastily;  "I  am  safe — I 
will  take  thought  for  myself,  if  I  once  saw  you  out  of  this 
dangerous  dwelling ;  if  you  would  provide  yourself  with  any 
part  of  your  apparel  or  goods,  lose  no  time." 

The  knight,  did,  however,  lose  sometime  ere  he  could  settle 
in  his  own  mind  what  to  take  and  what  to  abandon  of  his  ward- 
robe, each  article  of  which  seemed  endeared  to  him  by  recol- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


347 


lection  of  the  feasts  and  revels  at  which  it  had  been  exhibited. 
For  some  little  while  Mysie  left  him  to  make  his  selections  at 
leisure,  for  she  herself  had  also  some  preparations  to  make  foi 
flight.  But  when,  returning  from  the  chamber  into  which  she 
had  retired,  with  a  small  bundle  in  her  hand,  she  found  him 
still  indecisive,  she  insisted  in  plain  terms  that  he  should 
either  make  up  his  baggage  for  the  enterprise  or  give  it  up 
entirely.  Thus  urged,  the  disconsolate  knight  hastily  made  up 
a  few  clothes  into  a  bundle,  regarded  his  trunk-mails  with  a 
mute  expression  of  parting  sorrow,  and  intimated  his  readi- 
ness to  wait  upon  his  kind  guide. 

She  led  the  way  to  the  door  of  the  apartment,  having  first 
carefully  extinguished  her  lamp,  and  motioning  to  the  knight 
to  stand  close  behind  her,  tapped  once  or  twice  at  the  door. 
She  was  at  length  answered  by  Edward  Glendinning,  who  de- 
manded to  know  who  knocked  within,  and  what  was  desired. 

"  Speak  low,"  said  Mysie  Happer,  "  or  you  will  awaken  the 
English  knight.  It  is  I,  Mysie  Happer,  who  knock ;  I  wish 
to  get  out ;  you  have  locked  me  up,  and  I  was  obliged  to  wait 
till  the  Southron  slept." 

"Locked  you  up!"  replied  Edward,  in  surprise. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  miller's  daughter,  " you  have  locked 
me  up  into  this  room :  I  was  in  Mary  Avenel' s  sleeping  apart- 
ment. " 

"  And  can  you  not  remain  there  till  morning, "  replied  Ed- 
ward, "  since  it  has  so  chanced?" 

"What!"  said  the  miller's  daughter,  in  a  tone  of  offended 
delicacy,  "  /  remain  here  a  moment  longer  than  I  can  get  out 
without  discovery !  I  would  not,  for  all  the  halidome  of  St. 
Mary's,  remain  a  minute  longer  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a 
man's  apartment  than  I  can  help  it.  Eor  whom  or  for  what 
do  you  hold  me?  I  promise  you,  my  father's  daughter  has 
been  better  brought  up  than  to  put  in  peril  her  good  name. " 

"  Come  forth,  then,  and  get  to  thy  chamber  in  silence,"  said 
Edward. 

So  saying,  he  undid  the  bolt.  The  staircase  without  was 
in  utter  darkness,  as  Mysie  had  before  ascertained.  So  soon 
as  she  stept  out,  she  took  hold  of  Edward  as  if  to  support 


348 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


herself,  thus  interposing  her  person  betwixt  him  and  Sh 
Piercie  Shafton,  by  whom  she  was  closely  followed.  Thus 
screened  from  observation,  the  Englishman  slipped  past  on 
tiptoe,  unshod  and  in  silence,  while  the  damsel  complained 
to  Edward  that  she  wanted  a  light. 

"I  cannot  get  you  a  light,"  said  he,  "for  I  cannot  leave 
this  post;  but  there  is  a  fire  below." 

"  I  will  sit  below  till  morning, "  said  the  Maid  of  the  Mill ; 
and,  tripping  downstairs,  heard  Edward  bolt  and  bar  the 
door  of  the  now  tenantless  apartment  with  vain  caution. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stair  which  she  descended,  she  found  the 
object  of  her  care  waiting  her  farther  directions.  She  recom- 
mended to  him  the  most  absolute  silence,  which,  for  once  in 
his  life,  he  seemed  not  unwilling  to  observe,  conducted  him 
with  as  much  caution  as  if  he  were  walking  on  cracked  ice  to 
a  dark  recess  used  for  depositing  wood,  and  instructed  him  to 
ensconce  himself  behind  the  fagots.  She  herself  lighted  her 
lamp  once  more  at  the  kitchen  fire,  and  took  her  distaff  and 
spindle,  that  she  might  not  seem  to  be  unemployed  in  case 
any  one  came  into  the  apartment.  From  time  to  time,  how- 
ever, she  stole  towards  the  window  on  tiptoe  to  catch  the 
first  glance  of  the  dawn,  for  the  farther  prosecution  of  her  ad- 
venturous project.  At  length  she  saw,  to  her  great  joy,  the 
first  peep  of  the  morning  brighten  upon  the  grey  clouds  of  the 
east,  and,  clasping  her  hands  together,  thanked  Our  Lady  for 
the  sight,  and  implored  protection  during  the  remainder  of 
her  enterprise.  Ere  she  had  finished  her  prayer,  she  started 
at  feeling  a  man's  arm  across  her  shoulder,  while  a  rough 
voice  spoke  in  her  ear :  "  What !  mensef ul  Mysie  of  the  Mill 
so  soon  at  her  prayers?  Now,  benison  on  the  bonny  eyes  that 
open  so  early!    I'll  have  a  kiss  for  good-morrow's  sake." 

Dan  of  the  Howlethirst,  for  he  was  the  gallant  who  paid 
Mysie  this  compliment,  suited  the  action  with  the  word,  and 
the  action,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases  of  rustic  gallantry,  was 
rewarded  with  a  cuff,  which  Dan  received  as  a  fine  gentleman 
receives  a  tap  with  a  fan,  but  which,  delivered  by  the  ener- 
getic arm  of  the  miller's  maiden,  would  have  certainly  aston- 
ished a  less  robust  gallant. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


349 


"How  now,  sir  coxcomb!"  said  she,  "and  must  you  be 
away  from  your  guard  over  the  English  knight  to  plague 
quiet  folk  with  your  horse-tricks!" 

"Truly  you  are  mistaken,  pretty  Mysie,"  said  the  clown, 
"  for  I  have  not  yet  relieved  Edward  at  his  post ;  and  were  it 
not  a  shame  to  let  him  stay  any  longer,  by  my  faith,  I  could 
find  it  in  my  heart  not  to  quit  you  these  two  hours." 

"  Oh,  you  have  hours  and  hours  enough  to  see  any  one,"  said 
Mysie ;  "  but  you  must  think  of  the  distress  of  the  household 
even  now,  and  get  Edward  to  sleep  for  a  while,  for  he  has  kept 
watch  this  whole  night." 

"  I  will  have  another  kiss  first, "  answered  Dan  of  the  How- 
lethirst. 

But  Mysie  was  now  on  her  guard,  and,  conscious  of  the  vi- 
cinity of  the  wood-hole,  offered  such  strenuous  resistance  that 
the  swain  cursed  the  nymph's  bad  humour  with  very  unpas- 
toral  phrase  and  emphasis,  and  ran  upstairs  to  relieve  the 
guard  of  his  comrade.  Stealing  to  the  door,  she  heard  the 
new  sentinel  hold  a  brief  conversation  with  Edward,  after 
Avhich  the  latter  withdrew,  and  the  former  entered  upon  the 
duties  of  his  watch. 

Mysie  suffered  him  to  walk  there  a  little  while  undisturbed, 
until  the  dawning  became  more  general,  by  which  time  she 
supposed  he  might  have  digested  her  coyness,  and  then  pre- 
senting herself  before  the  watchful  sentinel,  demanded  of  him 
"the  keys  of  the  outer  tower,  and  of  the  courtyard  gate." 

"And  for  what  purpose?"  answered  the  warder. 

"  To  milk  the  cows,  and  drive  them  out  to  their  pasture, " 
said  Mysie ;  "  you  would  not  have  the  poor  beasts  kept  in  the 
byre  a'  morning,  and  the  family  in  such  distress  that  there 
isna  ane  fit  to  do  a  turn  but  the  byre-woman  and  myself?" 

"  And  where  is  the  byre-woman?"  said  Dan. 

"  Sitting  with  me  in  the  kitchen,  in  case  these  distressed 
folk  want  anything." 

"There  are  the  keys  then,  Mysie  Dorts,"  said  the  sentinel. 

"Many  thanks,  Dan  NVer-do-Weel,"  answered  the  Maid 
of  the  Mill,  and  escaped  downstairs  in  a  moment. 

To  hasten  to  the  wood-hole,  and  there  to  robe  the  English 


350 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


knight  iu  a  short  gown  and  petticoat,  which  she  had  provided 
for  the  purpose,  was  the  work  of  another  moment.  She  then 
undid  the  gates  of  the  tower,  and  made  towards  the  byre  or 
cow-house,  which  stood  in  one  corner  of  the  courtyard.  Sir 
Piercie  Shafton  remonstrated  against  the  delay  which  this 
would  occasion. 

"Fair  and  generous  Molinara,"  he  said,  "had  we  not  better 
undo  the  outward  gate,  and  make  the  best  of  our  way  hence, 
even  like  a  pair  of  sea-mews  who  make  towards  shelter  of  the 
rocks  as  the  storm  waxes  high?" 

"  We  must  drive  out  the  cows  first, "  said  Mysie,  "  for  a  sin 
it  were  to  spoil  the  poor  widow's  cattle,  both  for  her  sake  and 
the  poor  beasts'  own;  and  I  have  no  mind  any  one  shall  leave 
the  tower  in  a  hurry  to  follow  us.  Besides,  you  must  have 
your  horse,  for  you  will  need  a  fleet  one  ere  all  be  done. " 

So  saying,  she  locked  and  double-locked  both  the  inward 
and  outward  door  of  the  tower,  proceeded  to  the  cow-house, 
turned  out  the  cattle,  and,  giving  the  knight  his  own  horse  to 
lead,  drove  them  before  her  out  at  the  courtyard  gate,  intend- 
ing to  return  for  her  own  palfrey.  But  the  noise  attending  the 
first  operation  caught  the  wakeful  attention  of  Edward,  who, 
starting  to  the  bartizan,  called  to  know  what  the  matter  was. 

Mysie  answered  with  great  readiness,  that  "  She  was  driv- 
ing out  the  cows,  for  that  they  would  be  spoiled  for  want  of 
looking  to." 

"I  thank  thee,  kind  maiden,"  said  Edward;  "and  yet,"  he 
added,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "what  damsel  is  that  thou 
hast  with  thee?" 

Mysie  was  about  to  answer,  when  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  who 
apparently  did  not  desire  that  the  great  work  of  his  liberation 
should  be  executed  without  the  interposition  of  his  own  inge- 
nuity, exclaimed  from  beneath :  "  I  am  she,  0  most  bucolical 
ju venal,  under  whose  charge  are  placed  the  milky  mothers  of 
the  herd." 

"Hell  and  darkness!"  exclaimed  Edward,  in  a  transport  of 
fury  and  astonishment,  "  it  is  Piercie  Shafton.  What !  trea- 
son !  treason !  —  ho !  —  Dan  —  Jasper  —  Martin  —  the  villain 

escapes!" 


THE  MONASTERY. 


351 


"To  horse!  to  horse!"  cried  Mysie,  and  in  an  instant 
mounted  behind  the  knight,  who  was  already  in  the  saddle. 

Edward  caught  up  a  cross-bow  and  let  fly  a  bolt,  which 
whistled  so  near  Mysie' s  ear  that  she  called  to  her  compan- 
ion: "Spur — spur,  sir  knight!  the  next  will  not  miss  us. 
Had  it  been  Halbert  instead  of  Edward  who  bent  that  bow, 
we  had  been  dead. " 

The  knight  pressed  his  horse,  which  dashed  past  the  cows, 
and  down  the  knoll  on  which  the  tower  was  situated.  Then 
taking  the  road  down  the  valley,  the  gallant  animal,  reckless 
of  its  double  burden,  soon  conveyed  them  out  of  hearing  of 
the  tumult  and  alarm  with  which  their  departure  filled  the 
Tower  of  Glendearg. 

Thus  it  strangely  happened  that  two  men  were  flying  in 
different  directions  at  the  same  time,  each  accused  of  being 
the  other's  murderer. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Sure  he  cannot 
Be  so  unmanly  as  to  leave  me  here ; 
If  he  do,  maids  will  not  so  easily- 
Trust  men  again. 

The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen. 

The  knight  continued  to  keep  the  good  horse  at  a  pace  as 
quick  as  the  road  permitted,  until  they  had  cleared  the  valley 
of  Cxlendearg,  and  entered  upon  the  broad  dale  of  the  Tweed, 
which  now  rolled  before  them  in  crystal  beauty,  displaying  on 
its  opposite  bank  the  huge  grey  Monastery  of  St.  Mary's, 
whose  towers  and  pinnacles  were  scarce  yet  touched  by  the 
newly-risen  sun,  so  deeply  the  edifice  lies  shrouded  under  the 
mountains  which  rise  to  the  southward. 

Turning  to  the  left,  the  knight  continued  his  road  down  the 
northern  bank  of  the  river,  until  they  arrived  nearly  opposite 
to  the  wear,  or  dam-dike,  where  Father  Philip  concluded  his 
extraordinary  aquatic  excursion. 

Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  whose  brain  seldom  admitted  more  than 


352 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


one  idea  at  a  time,  had  hitherto  pushed  forward  without  very 
distinctly  considering  where  he  was  going.  But  the  sight  of 
the  monastery  so  near  to  him  rem  hided  him  that  he  was  still 
on  dangerous  ground,  and  that  he  must  necessarily  provide  for 
his  safety  by  choosing  some  settled  plan  of  escape.  The  situ- 
ation of  his  guide  and  deliverer  also  occurred  to  him,  for  he 
was  far  from  being  either  selfish  or  ungrateful.  He  listened, 
and  discovered  that  the  miller's  daughter  was  sobbing  and 
weeping  bitterly  as  she  rested  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 

"What  ails  thee,"  he  said,  "my  generous  Molinara?  is 
there  aught  that  Piercie  Shafton  can  do  which  may  show  his 
gratitude  to  his  deliverer?"  Mysie  pointed  with  her  finger 
across  the  river,  but  ventured  not  to  turn  her  eyes  in  that  di- 
rection. "  Nay,  but  speak  plain,  most  generous  damsel, "  said 
the  knight,  who,  for  once,  was  puzzled  as  much  as  his  own 
elegance  of  speech  was  wont  to  puzzle  others,  "  for  I  swear  to 
you  that  I  comprehend  nought  by  the  extension  of  thy  fair 
digit." 

"  Yonder  is  my  father's  house,"  said  Mysie,  in  a  voice  inter- 
rupted by  the  increased  burst  of  her  sorrow. 

"  And  I  was  carrying  thee  discourteously  to  a  distance  from 
thy  habitation?"  said  Shafton,  imagining  he  had  found  out 
the  source  of  her  grief.  "  Woe  worth  the  hour  that  Piercie 
Shafton,  in  attention  to  his  own  safety,  neglected  the  accom- 
modation of  any  female,  far  less  of  his  most  beneficent  liber a- 
trice !  Dismount,  then,  0  lovely  Molinara,  unless  thou  wouldst 
rather  that  I  should  transport  thee  on  horseback  to  the  house 
of  thy  molendinary  father,  which,  if  thou  say  est  the  word,  I 
am  prompt  to  do,  defying  all  dangers  which  may  arise  to  me 
personally,  whether  by  monk  or  miller." 

Mysie  suppressed  her  sobs,  and  with  considerable  difficulty 
muttered  her  desire  to  alight,  and  take  her  fortune  by  herself. 
Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  too  devoted  a  squire  of  dames  to  consider 
the  most  lowly  as  exempted  from  a  respectful  attention,  inde- 
pendent of  the  claims  which  the  miller's  maiden  possessed 
over  him,  dismounted  instantly  from  his  horse,  and  received 
in  his  arms  the  poor  girl,  who  still  wept  bitterly,  and,  when 
placed  on  the  ground,  seemed  scarce  able  to  support  herself, 


THE  MONASTERY. 


353 


or  at  least  still  clung,  though,  as  it  appeared,  unconsciously, 
to  the  support  he  had  afforded.  He  carried  her  to  a  weeping 
birch-tree,  which  grew  on  the  greensward  bank  around  which 
the  road  winded,  and,  placing  her  on  the  ground  beneath  it, 
exhorted  her  to  compose  herself.  A  strong  touch  of  natural 
feeling  struggled  with,  and  half  overcame,  his  acquired  affec- 
tation, while  he  said :  "  Credit  me,  most  generous  damsel,  the 
service  you  have  done  to  Piercie  Shafton  he  would  have  deemed 
too  dearly  bought  had  he  foreseen  it  was  to  cost  you  these  tears 
and  singults.  Show  me  the  cause  of  your  grief,  and  if  I  can 
do  aught  to  remove  it,  believe  that  the  rights  you  have  ac- 
quired over  me  will  make  your  commands  sacred  as  those  of 
an  empress.  Speak  then,  fair  Molinara,  and  command  him 
whom  fortune  hath  rendered  at  once  your  debtor  and  your 
champion.    What  are  your  orders?" 

"Only  that  you  will  fly  and  save  yourself,"  said  Mysie, 
mustering  up  her  utmost  efforts  to  utter  these  few  words. 

"  Yet,"  said  the  knight,  "  let  me  not  leave  you  without  some 
token  of  remembrance."  Mysie  would  have  said  there  needed 
none,  and  most  truly  would  she  have  spoken,  could  she  have 
spoken  for  weeping.  " Piercie  Shafton  is  poor,"  he  continued, 
"  but  let  this  chain  testify  he  is  not  ungrateful  to  his  deliverer. " 

He  took  from  his  neck  the  rich  chain  and  medallion  we  have 
formerly  mentioned,  and  put  it  into  the  powerless  hand  of  the 
poor  maiden,  who  neither  received  nor  rejected  it,  but,  occu- 
pied with  more  intense  feelings,  seemed  scarce  aware  of  what 
he  was  doing. 

"  We  shall  meet  again, "  said  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  "  at  least 
I  trust  so ;  meanwhile,  weep  no  more,  fair  Molinara,  an  thou 
lovest  me." 

The  phrase  of  conjuration  was  but  used  as  an  ordinary  com- 
monplace expression  of  the  time,  but  bore  a  deeper  sense  to 
poor  Mysie's  ear.  She  dried  her  tears;  and  when  the  knight, 
in  all  kind  and  chivalrous  courtesy,  stooped  to  embrace  her  at 
their  parting,  she  rose  humbly  up  to  receive  the  proffered  hon- 
our in  a  posture  of  more  deference,  and  meekly  and  gratefully 
accepted  the  offered  salute.  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  mounted  his 
horse,  and  began  to  ride  off}  but  curiosity,  or  perhaps  a 
23 


354 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS, 


stronger  feeling,  soon  induced  him  to  look  back,  when  he  be- 
held the  miller's  daughter  standing  still  motionless  on  the 
spot  where  they  had  parted,  her  eyes  turned  after  him,  and 
the  unheeded  chain  hanging  from  her  hand. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  a  glimpse  of  the  real  state  of 
Mysie' s  affections,  and  of  the  motive  from  which  she  had 
acted  in  the  whole  matter,  glanced  on  Sir  Piercie  Shafton's 
mind.  The  gallants  of  that  age,  disinterested,  aspiring,  and 
lofty-minded  even  in  their  coxcombry,  were  strangers  to  those 
degrading  and  mischievous  pursuits  which  are  usually  termed 
low  amours.  They  did  not  "  chase  the  humble  maidens  of  the 
plain,"  or  degrade  their  own  rank  to  deprive  rural  innocence 
of  peace  and  virtue.  It  followed  of  course  that,  as  conquests 
in  this  class  were  no  part  of  their  ambition,  they  were  in  most 
cases  totally  overlooked  and  unsuspected,  left  unimproved,  as 
a  modern  would  call  it,  where,  as  on  the  present  occasion,  they 
were  casually  made.  The  companion  of  Astrophel,  and  flower 
of  the  tiltyard  of  Feliciana,  had  no  more  idea  that  his  graces 
and  good  parts  could  attach  the  love  of  Mysie  Happer  than  a 
first-rate  beauty  in  the  boxes  dreams  of  the  fatal  wound  which 
her  charms  may  inflict  on  some  attorney's  romantic  apprentice 
in  the  pit.  I  suppose,  in  any  ordinary  case,  the  pride  of  rank 
and  distinction  would  have  pronounced  on  the  humble  admirer 
the  doom  which  Beau  Fielding  denounced  against  the  whole 
female  world,  "  Let  them  look  and  die" ;  but  the  obligations 
under  which  he  lay  to  the  enamoured  maiden,  miller's  daugh- 
ter as  she  was,  precluded  the  possibility  of  Sir  Piercie's  treat- 
ing the  matter  en  cavalier,  and,  much  embarrassed,  yet  a  little 
flattered  at  the  same  time,  he  rode  back  to  try  what  could  be 
done  for  the  damsel's  relief. 

The  innate  modesty  of  poor  Mysie  could  not  prevent  her 
showing  too  obvious  signs  of  joy  at  Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton's  re- 
turn. She  was  betrayed  by  the  sparkle  of  the  rekindling  eye, 
and  a  caress  which,  however  timidly  bestowed,  she  could  not 
help  giving  to  the  neck  of  the  horse  which  brought  back  the 
beloved  rider. 

"  What  farther  can  I  do  for  you,  kind  Molinara?"  said  Sir 
Piercie  Shafton,  himself  hesitating  and  blushing;  for,  to  th.Q 


THE  MONASTERY. 


355 


grace  of  Qr  ;en  Bess's  age  be  it  spoken,  her  courtiers  wore 
more  iron  ♦  u  their  breasts  than  brass  on  their  foreheads,  and 
even  amid  cheir  vanities  preserved  still  the  decaying  spirit  of 
chivalry,  Vxiich  inspired  of  yore  the  very  gentle  knight  of 
Chaucer, 

Who  in  his  port  was  modest  as  a  maid. 

Mysie  blushed  deeply,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground, 
and  Sir  Piercie  proceeded  in  the  same  tone  of  embarrassed 
kindness.  "  Are  you  afraid  to  return  home  alone,  my  kind 
Molinara?  would  you  that  I  should  accompany  you?" 

"Alas!"  said  Mysie,  looking  up,  and  her  cheek  changing 
from  scarlet  to  pale,  "I  have  no  home  left!" 

"  How!  no  home?"  said  Shafton.  "  Says  my  generous  Mol- 
inara she  hath  no  home,  when  yonder  stands  the  house  of  her 
father,  and  but  a  crystal  stream  between?" 

"Alas!"  answered  the  miller's  maiden,  " I  have  no  longer 
either  home  or  father.  He  is  a  devoted  servant  to  the  abbey ; 
I  have  offended  the  abbot,  and  if  I  return  home  my  father  will 
kill  me." 

"He  dare  not  injure  thee,  by  Heaven!"  said  Sir  Piercie. 
14 1  swear  to  thee,  by  my  honour  and  knighthood,  that  the 
forces  of  my  cousin  of  Northumberland  shall  lay  the  monas- 
tery so  flat  that  a  horse  shall  not  stumble  as  he  rides  over  it, 
if  they  should  dare  to  injure  a  hair  of  your  head!  Therefore 
be  hopeful  and  content,  kind  Mysinda,  and  know  you  have 
obliged  one  who  can  and  will  avenge  the  slightest  wrong 
offered  to  you. " 

He  sprung  from  his  horse  as  he  spoke,  and  in  the  animation 
of  his  argument  grasped  the  willing  hand  of  Mysie,  or  Mysin- 
da, as  he  had  now  christened  her.  He  gazed  too  upon  full 
black  eyes,  fixed  upon  his  own  with  an  expression  which, 
however  subdued  by  maidenly  shame,  it  was  impossible  to 
mistake,  on  cheeks  where  something  like  hope  began  to  re- 
store the  natural  colour,  and  on  two  lips  which,  like  double 
rosebuds,  were  kept  a  little  apart  by  expectation,  and  showed 
within  a  line  of  teeth  as  white  as  pearl.  All  this  was  dan- 
gerous to  look  upon,  and  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  after  repeating 


356 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


with  less  and  less  force  his  request  that  the  xzfa  Mysinda 
would  allow  him  to  carry  her  to  her  father's,  end«,i  by  ask- 
ing the  fair  Mysinda  to  go  along  with  him.  "At  rleast,"  he 
added,  "until  I  shall  be  able  to  conduct  you  t(-?a  place  of 
safety. " 

Mysie  Happer  made  no  answer;  but,  blushing  scarlet  be- 
twixt joy  and  shame,  mutely  expressed  her  willingness  to  ac- 
company the  Southron  knight,  by  knitting  her  bundle  closer 
and  preparing  to  resume  her  seat  en  croupe.  "And  what 
is  y our  pleasure  that  I  should  do  with  this?"  she  said,  hold- 
ing up  the  chain  as  if  she  had  been  for  the  first  time  aware 
that  it  was  in  her  hand. 

"  Keep  it,  fairest  Mysinda,  for  my  sake, 99  said  the  knight. 

"Not  so,  sir,"  answered  Mysie,  gravely;  "the  maidens  of 
my  country  take  no  such  gifts  from  their  superiors,  and  I  need 
no  token  to  remind  me  of  this  morning." 

Most  earnestly  and  courteously  did  the  knight  urge  her  ac- 
ceptance of  the  proposed  guerdon;  but  on  this  point  Mysie 
was  resolute,  feeling,  perhaps,  that  to  accept  of  anything 
bearing  the  appearance  of  reward  would  be  to  place  the  ser- 
vice she  had  rendered  him  on  a  mercenary  footing.  In  short, 
she  would  only  agree  to  conceal  the  chain,  lest  it  might  prove 
the  means  of  detecting  the  owner,  until  Sir  Piercie  should  be 
placed  in  perfect  safety. 

They  mounted  and  resumed  their  journey,  of  which  Mysie, 
as  bold  and  sharp-witted  in  some  points  as  she  was  simple 
and  susceptible  in  others,  now  took  in  some  degree  the  direc- 
tion, having  only  inquired  its  general  destination,  and  learned . 
that  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  desired  to  go  to  Edinburgh,  where  he 
hoped  to  find  friends  and  protection.  Possessed  of  this  in- 
formation, Mysie  availed  herself  of  her  local  knowledge  to  get 
as  soon  as  possible  out  of  the  bounds  of  the  halidome,  and  into 
those  of  a  temporal  baron,  supposed  to  be  addicted  to  the  Re- 
formed doctrines,  and  upon  whose  limits,  at  least,  she  thought 
their  pursuers  would  not  attempt  to  hazard  any  violence.  She 
was  not  indeed  very  apprehensive  of  a  pursuit,  reckoning  with 
some  confidence  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  Tower  of  Glendearg 
would  find  it  a  matter  of  difficulty  to  surmount  the  obstacles 


THE  MONASTERY. 


357 


arising  from  their  own  bolts  and  bars,  with  which  she  had 
carefully  secured  them  before  setting  forth  on  the  retreat. 

They  journeyed  on,  therefore,  in  tolerable  security,  and  Sir 
Piercie  Shafton  found  leisure  to  amuse  the  time  in  high-flown 
speeches  and  long  anecdotes  of  the  court  of  Feliciana,  to  which 
Mysie  bent  an  ear  not  a  whit  less  attentive  that  she  did  not 
understand  one  word  out  of  three  which  was  uttered  by  her 
fellow-traveller.  She  listened,  however,  and  admired  upon 
trust,  as  many  a  wise  man  has  been  contented  to  treat  the 
conversation  of  a  handsome  but  silly  mistress.  As  for  Sir 
Piercie,  he  was  in  his  element ;  and  well  assured  of  the  inter- 
est and  full  approbation  of  his  auditor,  he  went  on  spouting 
Euphuism  of  more  than  usual  obscurity,  and  at  more  than 
usual  length.  Thus  passed  the  morning,  and  noon  brought 
them  within  sight  of  a  winding  stream,  on  the  side  of  which 
arose  an  ancient  baronial  castle,  surrounded  by  some  large 
trees.  At  a  small  distance  from  the  gate  of  the  mansion  ex- 
tended, as  in  those  days  was  usual,  a  straggling  hamlet,  hav- 
ing a  church  in  the  centre. 

"  There  are  two  hostelries  in  this  Kirktown, "  said  Mysie, 
"  but  the  worst  is  best  for  our  purpose ;  for  it  stands  apart 
from  the  other  houses,  and  I  ken  the  man  weel,  for  he  has 
dealt  with  my  father  for  malt. " 

This  causa  scientice,  to  use  a  lawyer's  phrase,  was  ill  chosen 
for  Mysie' s  purpose;  for  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  had,  by  dint  of 
his  own  loquacity,  been  talking  himself  all  this  while  into  a 
high  esteem  for  his  fellow-traveller,  and,  pleased  with  the 
gracious  reception  which  she  afforded  to  his  powers  of  conver- 
sation, had  wellnigh  forgotten  that  she  was  not  herself  one  of 
those  high-born  beauties  of  whom  he  was  recounting  so  many 
stories,  when  this  unlucky  speech  at  once  placed  the  most  dis- 
advantageous circumstances  attending  her  lineage  under  his 
immediate  recollection.  He  said  nothing,  however.  What 
indeed  could  he  say?  Nothing  was  so  natural  as  that  a  mil- 
ler's daughter  should  be  acquainted  with  publicans  who  dealt 
with  her  father  for  malt,  and  all  that  was  to  be  wondered 
at  was  the  concurrence  of  events  which  had  rendered  such  a 
female  the  companion  and  guide  of  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  of 


358 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Wilverton,  kinsman  of  the  great  Earl  of  Northumberland, 
whom  princes  and  sovereigns  themselves  termed  cousin,  be- 
cause of  the  Piercie  blood. 1  He  felt  the  disgrace  of  strolling 
through  the  country  with  a  miller's  maiden  on  the  crupper 
behind  him,  and  was  even  ungrateful  enough  to  feel  some 
emotions  of  shame  when  he  halted  his  horse  at  the  door  of 
the  little  inn. 

But  the  alert  intelligence  of  Mysie  Happer  spared  him 
further  sense  of  derogation,  by  instantly  springing  from  the 
horse,  and  cramming  the  ears  of  mine  host,  who  came  out 
with  his  mouth  agape  to  receive  a  guest  of  the  knight's  ap- 
pearance, with  an  imagined  tale,  in  which  circumstance  on 
circumstance  were  huddled  so  fast  as  to  astonish  Sir  Piercie 
Shafton,  whose  own  invention  was  none  of  the  most  brilliant. 
She  explained  to  the  publican  that  this  was  a  great  English 
knight  travelling  from  the  monastery  to  the  court  of  Scotland, 
after  having  paid  his  vows  to  St.  Mary,  and  that  she  had  been 
directed  to  conduct  him  so  far  on  the  road ;  and  that  Ball,  her 
palfrey,  had  fallen  by  the  way,  because  he  had  been  over- 
wrought with  carrying  home  the  last  melder  of  meal  to  the 
portioner  of  Langhope;  and  that  she  had  turned  in  Ball  to 
graze  in  the  Tasker's  Park,  near  Cripplecross,  for  he  had  stood 
as  still  as  Lot's  wife  with  very  weariness ;  and  that  the  knight 
had  courteously  insisted  she  should  ride  behind  him ;  and  that 
she  had  brought  him  to  her  kenn'd  friend's  hostelry  rather 
than  to  proud  Peter  Peddie's,  who  got  his  malt  at  the  Meller- 
stain  mills;  and  that  he  must  get  the  best  that  the  house 
afforded,  and  that  he  must  get  it  ready  in  a  moment  of  time, 
and  that  she  was  ready  to  help  in  the  kitchen. 

All  this  ran  glibly  off  the  tongue  without  pause  on  the  part 
of  Mysie  Kapper,  or  doubt  on  that  of  the  landlord.  The 
guest's  horse  was  conducted  to  the  stable,  and  he  himself  in- 
stalled in  the  cleanest  corner  and  best  seat  which  the  place 
afforded.  Mysie,  ever  active  and  officious,  was  at  once  en- 
gaged in  preparing  food,  in  spreading  the  table,  and  in  mak- 

1  Froissart  tells  us  somewhere  (the  readers  of  romances  are  indifferent  to 
accurate  reference)  that  the  King  of  France  called  one  of  the  Piercies 
cousin,  because  of  the  blood  of  Northumberland. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


359 


ing  all  the  better  arrangements  which  her  experience  could 
suggest  for  the  honour  and  comfort  of  her  companion.  He 
would  fain  have  resisted  this ;  for  while  it  was  impossible  not 
to  be  gratified  with  the  eager  and  alert  kindness  which  was  so 
active  in  his  service,  he  felt  an  indefinable  pain  in  seeing  My- 
sinda  engaged  in  these  menial  services,  and  discharging  them, 
moreover,  as  one  to  whom  they  were  but  too  familiar.  Yet 
this  jarring  feeling  was  mixed  with,  and  perhaps  balanced  by, 
the  extreme  grace  with  which  the  neat-handed  maiden  execut- 
ed these  tasks,  however  mean  in  themselves,  and  gave  to  the 
wretched  corner  of  a  miserable  inn  of  the  period  the  air  of  a 
bower,  in  which  an  enamoured  fairy,  or  at  least  a  shepherdess 
of  Arcadia,  was  displaying,  with  unavailing  solicitude,  her 
designs  on  the  heart  of  some  knight,  destined  by  fortune  to 
higher  thoughts  and  a  more  splendid  union. 

The  lightness  and  grace  with  which  Mysie  covered  the  little 
round  table  with  a  snow-white  cloth,  and  arranged  upon  it  the 
hastily-roasted  capon,  with  its  accompanying  stoup  of  Bour- 
deaux,  were  but  plebeian  graces  in  themselves ;  but  yet  there 
were  very  flattering  ideas  excited  by  each  glance.  She  was 
so  very  well  made,  agile  at  once  and  graceful,  with  her  hand 
and  arm  as  white  as  snow,  and  her  face  in  which  a  smile  con- 
tended with  a  blush,  and  her  eyes  which  looked  ever  at  Shaf- 
ton  when  he  looked  elsewhere,  and  were  dropped  at  once  when 
they  encountered  his,  that  she  was  irresistible!  In  fine,  the 
affectionate  delicacy  of  her  whole  demeanour,  joined  to  the 
promptitude  and  boldness  she  had  so  lately  evinced,  tended 
to  ennoble  the  services  she  had  rendered,  as  if  some 

Sweet  engaging  Grace 
Put  on  some  clothes  to  come  abroad, 
And  took  a  waiter's  place. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  came  the  damning  reflection  that  these 
duties  were  not  taught  her  by  love,  to  serve  the  beloved  only, 
but  arose  from  the  ordinary  and  natural  habits  of  a  miller's 
daughter,  accustomed,  doubtless,  to  render  the  same  service 
to  every  wealthier  churl  who  frequented  her  father's  mill. 
This  stopped  the  mouth  of  vanity,  and  of  the  love  which  van- 


360 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ity  had  been  hatching,  as  effectually  as  a  peck  of  literal  floui 
would  have  done. 

Amidst  this  variety  of  emotions,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  forgot 
not  to  ask  the  object  of  them  to  sit  down  and  partake  the  good 
cheer  which  she  had  been  so  anxious  to  provide  and  to  place 
in  order.  He  expected  that  this  invitation  would  have  been 
bashfully,  perhaps,  but  certainly  most  thankfully,  accepted; 
but  he  was  partly  nattered  and  partly  piqued  by  the  mixture 
of  deference  and  resolution  with  which  Mysie  declined  his  in- 
vitation. Immediately  after,  she  vanished  from  the  apart- 
ment, leaving  the  Euphuist  to  consider  whether  he  was  most 
gratified  or  displeased  by  her  disappearance. 

In  fact,  this  was  a  point  on  which  he  would  have  found  it 
difficult  to  make  up  his  mind,  had  there  been  any  necessity 
for  it.  As  there  was  none,  he  drank  a  few  cups  of  claret,  and 
sang  (to  himself)  a  strophe  or  two  of  the  canzonettes  of  the 
divine  Astrophel.  But  in  spite  both  of  wine  and  of  Sir  Philip 
Sidney,  the  connexion  in  which  he  now  stood,  and  that  which 
he  was  in  future  to  hold,  with  the  lovely  Molinara,  or  Mysin- 
da,  as  he  had  been  pleased  to  denominate  Mysie  Happer,  re- 
curred to  his  mind.  The  fashion  of  the  times,  as  we  have 
already  noticed,  fortunately  coincided  with  his  own  natural 
generosity  of  disposition,  which  indeed  amounted  almost  to 
extravagance,  in  prohibiting,  as  a  deadly  sin,  alike  against 
gallantry,  chivalry,  and  morality,  his  rewarding  the  good 
offices  he  had  received  from  this  poor  maiden  by  abusing  any 
of  the  advantages  which  her  confidence  in  his  honour  had 
afforded.  To  do  Sir  Piercie  justice,  it  was  an  idea  which 
never  entered  into  his  head;  and  he  would  probably  have 
dealt  the  most  scientific  imbrocata,  stoccata,  or  punto  reverso, 
which  the  school  of  Vincent  Saviola  had  taught  him,  to  any 
man  who  had  dared  to  suggest  to  him  such  selfish  and  un- 
grateful meanness.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was  a  man,  and 
foresaw  various  circumstances  which  might  render  their  jour- 
ney together  in  this  intimate  fashion  a  scandal  and  a  snare. 
Moreover,  he  was  a  coxcomb  and  a  courtier,  and  felt  there 
was  something  ridiculous  in  travelling  the  land  with  a  miller's 
daughter  behind  his  saddle,  giving  rise  to  suspicions  not  very 


THE  MONASTERY. 


361 


creditable  to  either,  and  to  ludicrous  constructions,  so  far  as  lie 
himself  was  concerned. 

"  I  would, n  he  said  half-aloud,  "  that,  if  such  might  be  done 
without  harm  or  discredit  to  the  too-ambitious,  yet  too- well- 
distinguishing  Molinara,  she  and  I  were  fairly  severed,  and 
bound  on  our  different  courses;  even  as  we  see  the  goodly 
vessel  bound  for  the  distant  seas  hoist  sails  and  bear  away 
into  the  deep,  while  the  humble  fly  boat  carries  to  shore  those 
friends  who,  with  wounded  hearts  and  watery  eyes,  have  com- 
mitted to  their  higher  destinies  the  more  daring  adventurers  by 
whom  the  fair  frigate  is  manned." 

He  had  scarce  uttered  the  wish  when  it  was  gratified ;  for  the 
host  entered  to  say  that  his  worshipful  knighthood's  horse  was 
ready  to  be  brought  forth  as  he  had  desired ;  and  on  his  inquiry 
for  "  the — the — damsel — that  is — the  young  woman  " 

"  Mysie  Happer, "  said  the  landlord,  "has  returned  to  her 
father's;  but  she  bade  me  say,  you  could  not  miss  the  road 
for  Edinburgh,  in  respect  it  was  neither  far  way  nor  foul 
gate." 

It  is  seldom  we  are  exactly  blessed  with  the  precise  fulfil- 
ment of  our  wishes  at  the  moment  when  we  utter  them ;  per- 
haps because  Heaven  wisely  withholds  what,  if  granted, 
would  be  often  received  with  ingratitude.  So  at  least  it 
chanced  in  the  present  instance;  for,  when  mine  host  said 
that  Mysie  was  returned  homeward,  the  knight  was  tempted 
to  reply  with  an  ejaculation  of  surprise  and  vexation,  and  a 
hasty  demand  whither  and  when  she  had  departed.  The  first 
emotions  his  prudence  suppressed,  the  second  found  utterance. 

"Where  is  she  gane?"  said  the  host,  gazing  on  him,  and 
repeating  his  question.  "  She  is  gane  hame  to  her  father's,  it 
is  like;  and  she  gaed  just  when  she  gave  orders  about  your 
worship's  horse,  and  saw  it  weel  fed — she  might  have  trusted 
me,  but  millers  and  millers'  kin  think  a'body  as  thief -like  as 
themselves — an'  she's  three  miles  on  the  gate  by  this  time." 

"Is  she  gone,  then?"  muttered  Sir  Piercie,  making  two  or 
three  hasty  strides  through  the  narrow  apartment — "is  she 
gone?  Well,  then,  let  her  go.  She  could  have  had  but  dis- 
grace by  abiding  by  me,  and  I  little  credit  by  her  society. 


362 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


That  I  should  have  thought  there  was  such  difficulty  in  shak- 
ing her  off!  I  warrant  she  is  by  this  time  laughing  with  some 
clown  she  has  encountered;  and  my  rich  chain  will  prove  a 
good  dowry.  And  ought  it  not  to  prove  so?  and  has  she  not 
deserved  it,  were  it  ten  times  more  valuable?  Piercie  Shaf- 
ton !  Piercie  Shaf ton !  dost  thou  grudge  thy  deliverer  the  guer- 
don she  hath  so  dearly  won?  The  selfish  air  of  this  northern 
land  hath  infected  thee,  Piercie  Shafton,  and  blighted  the 
blossoms  of  thy  generosity,  even  as  it  is  said  to  shrivel  the 
flowers  of  the  mulberry.  Yet  I  thought, "  he  added,  after  a 
moment's  pause,  "  that  she  would  not  so  easily  and  volunta- 
rily have  parted  from  me.  But  it  skills  not  thinking  of  it. 
Cast  my  reckoning,  mine  host,  and  let  your  groom  lead  forth 
my  nag." 

The  good  host  seemed  also  to  have  some  mental  point  to  dis- 
cuss, for  he  answered  not  instantly,  debating  perhaps  whether 
his  conscience  would  bear  a  double  charge  for  the  same  guests. 
Apparently  his  conscience  replied  in  the  negative,  though  not 
without  hesitation,  for  he  at  length  replied:  "It's  daffing  to 
lee;  it  winna  deny  that  the  lawing  is  clean  paid.  Ne'erthe- 
less,  if  your  worshipful  knighthood  pleases  to  give  aught  for 
increase  of  trouble  " 

"How!"  said  the  knight;  "the  reckoning  paid!  and  by 
whom,  I  pray  you?" 

"E'en  by  Mysie  Happer,  if  truth  maun  be  spoken,  as  I  said 
before, "  answered  the  honest  landlord,  with  as  m^ny  compunc- 
tious visitings  for  telling  the  verity  as  another  might  have  felt 
for  making  a  lie  in  the  circumstances ;  "  and  out  of  the  monies 
supplied  for  your  honour's  journey  by  the  abbot,  as  she  tauld 
to  me.  And  laith  were  I  to  surcharge  any  gentleman  that 
darkens  my  doors."  He  added,  in  the  confidence  of  honesty 
which  his  frank  avowal  entitled  him  to  entertain:  "Ne'erthe- 
less,  as  I  said  before,  if  it  pleases  your  knighthood  of  free 
good-will  to  consider  extraordinary  trouble  " 

The  knight  cut  short  his  argument  by  throwing  the  landlord 
a  rose-noble,  which  probably  doubled  the  value  of  a  Scottish 
reckoning,  though  it  would  have  defrayed  but  a  half  one  at 
the  Three  Cranes  or  [in]  the  Vintry.    The  bounty  so  much 


THE  MONASTERY. 


363 


delighted  mine  host  that  he  ran  to  fill  the  stirrup-cup  (for 
which  no  charge  was  ever  made)  from  a  butt  yet  charier  than 
that  which  he  had  pierced  for  the  former  stoup.  The  knight 
paced  slowly  to  horse,  partook  of  his  courtesy,  and  thanked 
him  with  the  stiff  condescension  of  the  court  of  Elizabeth ;  then 
mounted  and  followed  the  northern  path,  which  was  pointed 
out  as  the  nearest  to  Edinburgh,  and  which,  though  very  un- 
like a  modern  highway,  bore  yet  so  distinct  a  resemblance  to 
a  public  and  frequented  road  as  not  to  be  easily  mistaken. 

"I  shall  not  need  her  guidance  it  seems,"  said  he  to  him- 
self, as  he  rode  slowly  onward;  "and  I  suppose  that  was  one 
reason  of  her  abrupt  departure,  so  different  from  what  one 
might  have  expected.  Well,  I  am  well  rid  of  her.  Do  we 
not  pray  to  be  liberated  from  temptation?  Yet  that  she 
should  have  erred  so  much  in  estimation  of  her  own  situation 
and  mine  as  to  think  of  defraying  the  reckoning !  I  would  I 
saw  her  once  more,  but  to  explain  to  her  the  solecism  of  which 
her  inexperience  hath  rendered  her  guilty.  And  I  fear, 99  he 
added,  as  he  emerged  from  some  straggling  trees,  and  looked 
out  upon  a  wild  moorish  country,  composed  of  a  succession  of 
swelling  lumpish  hills — "  I  fear  I  shall  soon  want  the  aid  of 
this  Ariadne,  who  might  afford  me  a  clue  through  the  recesses 
of  yonder  mountainous  labyrinth." 

As  the  knight  thus  communed  with  himself,  his  attention 
was  caught  by  the  sound  of  a  horse's  footsteps;  and  a  lad, 
mounted  on  a  little  grey  Scottish  nag,  about  fourteen  hands 
high,  coming  along  a  path  which  led  from  behind  the  trees, 
joined  him  on  the  highroad,  if  it  could  be  termed  such. 

The  dress  of  the  lad  was  completely  in  village  fashion,  yet 
neat  and  handsome  in  appearance.  He  had  a  jerkin  of  grey 
cloth  slashed  and  trimmed,  with  black  hose  of  the  same,  with 
deer-skin  rullions  or  sandals,  and  handsome  silver  spurs.  A 
cloak  of  .a  dark  mulberry  colour  was  closely  drawn  round  the 
upper  part  of  his  person,  and  the  cape  in  part  muffled  his  face, 
which  was  also  obscured  by  his  bonnet  of  black  velvet  cloth, 
and  its  little  plume  of  feathers. 

Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  fond  of  society,  desirous  also  to  have 
a  guide,  and,  moreover,  prepossessed  in  favour  of  so  handsome 


364 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


a  youth,  failed  not  to  ask  him  whence  he  came,  and  whither 
he  was  going.  The  youth  looked  another  way,  as  he  an- 
swered, that  he  was  going  to  Edinburgh,  "  to  seek  service  in 
some  nobleman's  family." 

"  I  fear  me  you  have  run  away  from  your  last  master, "  said 
Sir  Piercie,  "  since  you  dare  not  look  me  in  the  face  while  you 
answer  my  question." 

"Indeed,  sir,  I  have  not,"  answered  the  lad,  bashfully, 
while,  as  if  with  reluctance,  he  turned  round  his  face,  and  in- 
stantly withdrew  it.  It  was  a  glance,  but  the  discovery  was 
complete.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  dark  full  eye,  the 
cheek  in  which  much  embarrassment  could  not  altogether  dis- 
guise an  expression  of  comic  humour,  and  the  whole  figure  at 
once  betrayed,  under  her  metamorphosis,  the  Maid  of  the 
Mill.  The  recognition  was  joyful,  and  Sir  Piercie  Shafton 
was  too  much  pleased  to  have  regained  his  companion  to  re- 
member the  various  good  reasons  which  had  consoled  him  for 
losing  her. 

To  his  questions  respecting  her  dress,  she  answered  that 
she  had  obtained  it  in  the  Kirktown  from  a  friend;  it  was 
the  holiday  suit  of  a  son  of  hers,  who  had  taken  the  field  with 
his  liege  lord,  the  baron  of  the  land.  She  had  borrowed  the 
suit  under  pretence  she  meant  to  play  in  some  mumming  or 
rural  masquerade.  She  had  left,  she  said,  her  own  apparel 
in  exchange,  which  was  better  worth  ten  crowns  than  this  was 
worth  four. 

"  And  the  nag,  my  ingenious  Molinara, "  said  Sir  Piercie — 
"  whence  comes  the  nag?" 

"I  borrowed  him  from  our  host  at  the  Gled's  Nest,"  she 
replied;  and  added,  half-stifling  a  laugh,  "he  has  sent  to  get, 
instead  of  it,  our  Ball,  which  I  left  in  the  Tasker's  Park  at 
Cripplecross.    He  will  be  lucky  if  he  find  it  there." 

"  But  then  the  poor  man  will  lose  his  horse,  most  argute 
Mysinda,"  said  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  whose  English  notions 
of  property  were  a  little  startled  at  a  mode  of  acquisition 
more  congenial  to  the  ideas  of  a  miller's  daughter,  and  he  a 
Border  miller  to  boot,  than  with  those  of  an  English  person 
of  quality. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


365 


"And  if  he  does  lose  his  horse,"  said  Mysie,  laughing, 
"  surely  he  is  not  the  first  man  on  the  marches  who  has  had 
such  a  mischance?  But  he  will  be  no  loser,  for  I  warrant  he 
will  stop  the  value  out  of  monies  which  he  has  owed  my  father 
this  many  a  day.'7 

"  But  then  your  father  will  be  the  loser,"  objected  yet  again 
the  pertinacious  uprightness  of  Sir  Piercie  Shafton. 

"What  signifies  it  now  to  talk  of  my  father?"  said  the 
damsel,  pettishly ;  then  instantly  changing  to  a  tone  of  deep 
feeling,  she  added :  "  My  father  has  this  day  lost  that  which 
will  make  him  hold  light  the  loss  of  all  the  gear  he  has  left." 

Struck  with  the  accents  of  remorseful  sorrow  in  which  his 
companion  uttered  these  few  words,  the  English  knight  felt 
himself  bound  both  in  honour  and  conscience  to  expostulate 
with  her  as  strongly  as  he  could  on  the  risk  of  the  step  which 
she  had  now  taken,  and  on  the  propriety  of  her  returning  to 
her  father's  house.  The  matter  of  his  discourse,  though 
adorned  with  many  unnecessary  flourishes,  was  honourable 
both  to  his  head  and  heart. 

The  Maid  of  the  Mill  listened  to  his  flowing  periods  with 
her  head  sunk  on  her  bosom  as  she  rode,  like  one  in  deep 
thought  or  deeper  sorrow.  When  he  had  finished,  she  raised 
up  her  countenance,  looked  full  on  the  knight,  and  replied 
with  great  firmness :  "  If  you  are  weary  of  my  company,  Sir 
Piercie  Shafton,  you  have  but  to  say  so,  and  the  miller's 
daughter  will  be  no  farther  cumber  to  you.  And  do  not  think 
I  will  be  a  burden  to  you,  if  we  travel  together  to  Edinburgh : 
I  have  wit  enough  and  pride  enough  to  be  a  willing  burden  to 
no  man.  But  if  you  reject  not  my  company  at  present,  and 
fear  not  it  will  be  burdensome  to  you  hereafter,  speak  no  more 
to  me  of  returning  back.  All  that  you  can  say  to  me  I  have 
said  to  myself;  and  that  I  am  now  here  is  a  sign  that  I  have 
said  it  to  no  purpose.  Let  this  subject,  therefore,  be  for  ever 
ended  betwixt  us.  I  have  already,  in  some  small  fashion,  been 
useful  to  you,  and  the  time  may  come  I  may  be  more  so ;  for 
this  is  not  your  land  of  England,  where  men  say  justice  is 
done  with  little  fear  or  favour  to  great  and  to  small;  but  it  is 
a  land  where  men  do  by  the  strong  hand,  and  defend  by  the 


366 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ready  wit,  and  I  know  better  than  you  the  perils  you  are  ex- 
posed to." 

Sir  Piercie  Shafton  was  somewhat  mortified  to  find  that  the 
damsel  conceived  her  presence  useful  to  him  as  a  protectress 
as  well  as  guide,  and  said  something  of  seeking  protection 
from  nought  save  his  own  arm  and  his  good  sword.  Mysie 
answered  very  quietly,  that  she  nothing  doubted  his  bravery ; 
but  it  was  that  very  quality  of  bravery  which  was  most  likely 
to  involve  him  in  danger.  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  whose  head 
never  kept  very  long  in  any  continued  train  of  thinking,  ac- 
quiesced without  much  reply,  resolving  in  his  own  mind  that 
the  maiden  only  used  this  apology  to  disguise  her  real  motive 
of  affection  to  his  person.  The  romance  of  the  situation  flat- 
tered his  vanity  and  elevated  his  imagination,  as  placing  him 
in  the  situation  of  one  of  those  romantic  heroes  of  whom  he 
had  read  the  histories,  where  similar  transformations  made  a 
distinguished  figure. 

He  took  many  a  sidelong  glance  at  his  page,  whose  habits 
of  country  sport  and  country  exercise  had  rendered  her  quite 
adequate  to  sustain  the  character  she  had  assumed.  She 
managed  the  little  nag  with  dexterity,  and  even  with  grace ; 
nor  did  anything  appear  which  could  have  betrayed  her  dis- 
guise, except  when  a  bashful  consciousness  of  her  companion's 
eyes  being  fixed  on  her  gave  her  an  appearance  of  temporary 
embarrassment,  which  greatly  added  to  her  beauty. 

The  couple  rode  forward  as  in  the  morning,  pleased  with 
themselves  and  with  each  other,  until  they  arrived  at  the  vil- 
lage where  they  were  to  repose  for  the  night,  and  where  all 
the  inhabitants  of  the  little  inn,  both  male  and  female,  joined 
in  extolling  the  good  grace  and  handsome  countenance  of  the 
English  knight,  and  the  uncommon  beauty  of  his  youthful  at- 
tendant. 

It  was  here  that  Mysie  Happer  first  made  Sir  Piercie  Shaf- 
ton sensible  of  the  reserved  manner  in  which  she  proposed  to 
live  with  him.  She  announced  him  as  her  master,  and,  wait- 
ing upon  him  with  the  reverent  demeanour  of  an  actual  domes- 
tic, permitted  not  the  least  approach  to  familiarity,  not  even 
such  as  the  knight  might  with  the  utmost  innocence  have  ven- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


367 


tured  upon.  For  example,  Sir  Piercie,  who,  as  we  know,  was 
a  great  connoisseur  in  dress,  was  detailing  to  her  the  advan- 
tageous change  which  he  proposed  to  make  in  her  attire  as 
soon  as  they  should  reach  Edinburgh,  by  arraying  her  in  his 
own  colours  of  pink  and  carnation.  Mysie  Happer  listened 
with  great  complacency  to  the  unction  with  which  he  dilated 
upon  welts,  laces,  slashes,  and  trimmings,  until,  carried  away 
by  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  was  asserting  the  supe- 
riority of  the  falling  band  over  the  Spanish  ruff,  he  ap- 
proached his  hand,  in  the  way  of  illustration,  towards  the 
collar  of  his  page's  doublet.  She  instantly  stepped  back,  and 
gravely  reminded  him  that  she  was  alone,  and  under  his  pro- 
tection. 

"  You  cannot  but  remember  the  cause  which  has  brought  me 
here,"  she  continued;  "make  the  least  approach  to  any  famil- 
iarity which  you  would  not  offer  to  a  princess  surrounded  by 
her  court,  and  you  have  seen  the  last  of  the  miller's  daughter. 
She  will  vanish  as  the  chaff  disappears  from  the  shieling-hill, 
when  the  west  wind  blows." 

"I  do  protest,  fair  Molinara,"  said  Sir  Piercie  Shafton — 
but  the  fair  Molinara  had  disappeared  before  his  protest  could 
be  uttered.  "  A  most  singular  wench, "  said  he  to  himself ; 
"  and  by  this  hand  as  discreet  as  she  is  fair-featured.  Certes, 
shame  it  were  to  offer  her  scathe  or  dishonour!  She  makes 
similes,  too,  though  somewhat  savouring  of  her  condition. 
Had  she  but  read  Euphues,  and  forgotten  that  accursed  mill 
and  shieling-hill,  it  is  my  thought  that  her  converse  would  be 
broidered  with  as  many  and  as  choice  pearls  of  compliment  as 
that  of  the  most  rhetorical  lady  in  the  court  of  Feliciana.  I 
trust  she  means  to  return  to  bear  me  company!" 

But  that  was  no  part  of  Mysie' s  prudential  scheme.  It  was 
then  drawing  to  dusk,  and  he  saw  her  not  again  until  the  next 
morning,  when  the  horses  were  brought  to  the  door,  that  they 
might  prosecute  their  journey. 

But  our  story  here  necessarily  leaves  the  English  knight  and 
his  page,  to  return  to  the  Tower  of  Glendearg. 


368 


■WAVEELEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

You  call  it  an  ill  angel — it  may  be  so ; 
But  sure  I  am,  among  the  ranks  which  fell, 
'Tis  the  first  fiend  e'er  counsell'd  man  to  rise, 
And  win  the  bliss  the  sprite  himself  had  forfeited. 

Old  Play. 

We  must  resume  our  narrative  at  the  period  when  Mary 
Avenel  was  conveyed  to  the  apartment  which  had  been  for- 
merly occupied  by  the  two  Glendinnings,  and  when  her  faith- 
ful attendant,  Tibbie,  had  exhausted  herself  in  useless  attempts 
to  compose  and  to  comfort  her.  Father  Eustace  also  dealt  forth 
with  well-meant  kindness  those  apothegms  and  dogmata  of  con- 
solation which  friendship  almost  always  offers  to  grief,  though 
they  are  uniformly  offered  in  vain.  She  was  at  length  left  to 
indulge  in  the  desolation  of  her  own  sorrowful  feelings.  She 
felt  as  those  who,  loving  for  the  first  time,  have  lost  what 
they  loved,  before  time  and  repeated  calamity  have  taught 
them  that  every  loss  is  to  a  certain  extent  reparable  or  en- 
durable. 

Such  grief  may  be  conceived  better  than  it  can  be  described, 
as  is  well  known  to  those  who  have  experienced  it.  But  Mary 
Avenel  had  been  taught  by  the  peculiarity  of  her  situation  to 
regard  herself  as  the  child  of  destiny ;  and  the  melancholy  and 
reflecting  turn  of  her  disposition  gave  to  her  sorrows  a  depth 
and  breadth  peculiar  to  her  character.  The  grave— and  it  was 
a  bloody  grave — had  closed,  as  she  believed,  over  the  youth  to 
whom  she  was  secretly,  but  most  warmly,  attached ;  the  force 
and  ardour  of  Halbert's  character  bearing  a  singular  corre- 
spondence to  the  energy  of  which  her  own  was  capable.  Her 
sorrow  did  not  exhaust  itself  in  sighs  or  in  tears,  but,  when 
the  first  shock  had  passed  away,  concentrated  itself  with  deep 
and  steady  meditation  to  collect  and  calculate,  like  a  bankrupt 
debtor,  the  full  amount  of  her  loss.  It  seemed  as  if  all  that 
connected  her  with  earth  had  vanished  with  this  broken  tie. 
She  had  never  dared  to  anticipate  the  probability  of  an  ulti- 
mate union  with  Halbert,  yet  now  his  supposed  fall  seemed 
that  of  the  only  tree  which  was  to  shelter  her  from  the  storm. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


369 


She  respected  the  more  gentle  character  and  more  peaceful  at- 
tainments of  the  younger  Glendinning ;  but  it  had  not  escaped 
her  (what  never  indeed  escaped  woman  in  such  circumstances) 
that  he  was  disposed  to  place  himself  in  competition  with  what 
she,  the  daughter  of  a  proud  and  warlike  race,  deemed  the  more 
manly  qualities  of  his  elder  brother;  and  there  is  no  time 
when  a  woman  does  so  little  justice  to  the  character  of  a  sur- 
viving lover  as  when  comparing  him  with  the  preferred  rival 
of  whom  she  has  been  recently  deprived. 

The  motherly  but  coarse  kindness  of  Dame  Glendinning,  and 
the  doting  fondness  of  her  old  domestic,  seemed  now  the  only 
kind  feeling  of  which  she  formed  the  object;  and  she  could 
not  but  reflect  how  little  these  were  to  be  compared  with  the 
devoted  attachment  of  a  high-souled  youth,  whom  the  least 
glance  of  her  eye  could  command,  as  the  high-mettled  steed  is 
governed  by  the  bridle  of  the  rider.  It  was  when  plunged 
among  these  desolating  reflections  that  Mary  Avenel  felt  the 
void  of  mind  arising  from  the  narrow  and  bigoted  ignorance 
in  which  Eome  then  educated  the  children  of  her  church. 
Their  whole  religion  was  a  ritual,  and  their  prayers  were  the 
formal  iteration  of  unknown  words,  which,  in  the  hour  of 
affliction,  could  yield  but  little  consolation  to  those  who  from 
habit  resorted  to  them.  Unused  to  the  practice  of  mental  de- 
votion, and  of  personal  approach  to  the  Divine  Presence  by 
prayer,  she  could  not  help  exclaiming  in  her  distress :  "  There 
is  no  aid  for  me  on  earth,  and  I  know  not  how  to  ask  it  from 
Heaven!" 

As  she  spoke  thus  in  an  agony  of  sorrow,  she  cast  her  eyes 
into  the  apartment,  and  saw  the  mysterious  Spirit  which 
waited  upon  the  fortunes  of  her  house  standing  in  the  moon- 
light in  the  midst  of  the  room.  The  same  form,  as  the  reader 
knows,  had  more  than  once  offered  itself  to  her  sight ;  and 
either  her  native  boldness  of  mind,  or  some  peculiarity  at- 
tached to  her  from  her  birth,  made  her  now  look  upon  it  with- 
out shrinking.  But  the  White  Lady  of  Avenel  was  now  more 
distinctly  visible,  and  more  closely  present,  than  she  had  ever 
before  seemed  to  be,  and  Mary  was  appalled  by  her  presence. 
She  would,  however,  have  spoken ;  but  there  ran  a  tradition, 
24 


370 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


that  though  others  who  had  seen  the  White  Lady  had  asked 
questions  and  received  answers,  yet  those  of  the  house  of  Ave- 
nel  who  had  ventured  to  speak  to  her  had  never  long  survived 
the  colloquy.  The  figure,  besides,  as,  sitting  up  in  her  bed, 
Mary  Avenel  gazed  on  it  intently,  seemed  by  its  gestures  to 
caution  her  to  keep  silence,  and  at  the  same  time  to  bespeak 
attention. 

The  White  Lady  then  seemed  to  press  one  of  the  planks  of 
the  floor  with  her  foot,  while,  in  her  usual  low,  melancholy, 
and  musical  chant,  she  repeated  the  following  verses : 

"  Maiden,  whose  sorrows  wail  the  living  dead, 

Whose  eyes  shall  commune  with  the  dead  alive, 
Maiden,  attend  !    Beneath  my  foot  lies  hid 

The  Word,  the  Law,  the  Path,  which  thou  dost  strive 
To  find,  and  canst  not  find.    Could  spirits  shed 

Tears  for  their  lot,  it  were  my  lot  to  weep, 
Showing  the  road  which  I  shall  never  tread, 

Though  my  foot  points  it.    Sleep,  eternal  sleep, 
Dark,  long,  and  cold  forgetfulness  my  lot ! 

But  do  not  thou  at  human  ills  repine, 
Secure  there  lies  full  guerdon  in  this  spot 

For  all  the  woes  that  wait  frail  Adam's  line ; 
Stoop  then  and  make  it  yours — I  may  not  make  it  mine  !  " 

The  phantom  stooped  towards  the  floor  as  she  concluded,  as 
if  with  the  intention  of  laying  her  hand  on  the  board  on  which 
she  stood.  But,  ere  she  had  completed  that  gesture,  her  form 
became  indistinct,  was  presently  only  like  the  shade  of  a 
fleecy  cloud  which  passed  betwixt  earth  and  the  moon,  and 
was  soon  altogether  invisible. 

A  strong  impression  of  fear,  the  first  which  she  had  experi- 
enced in  her  life  to  any  agitating  extent,"  seized  upon  the  mind 
of  Mary  Avenel,  and  for  a  minute  she  felt  a  disposition  to  faint. 
She  repelled  it,  however,  mustered  her  courage,  and  addressed 
herself  to  saints  and  angels,  as  her  church  recommended. 
Broken  slumbers  at  length  stole  on  her  exhausted  mind  and 
frame,  and  she  slept  until  the  dawn  was  about  to  arise,  when 
she  was  awakened  by  the  cry  of  "  Treason !  treason !  follow — 
follow!"  which  arose  in  the  tower,  when  it  was  found  that 
Piercie  Shafton  had  made  his  escape. 

Apprehensive  of  some  new  misfortune,  Mary  Avenel  hastily 


THE  MONASTERY. 


371 


arranged  the  dress  which  she  had  not  laid  aside,  and,  ventur- 
ing to  quit  her  chamber,  learned  from  Tibb,  who,  with  her 
grey  hairs  dishevelled  like  those  of  a  sibyl,  was  flying  from 
room  to  room,  that  "  The  bloody  Southron  villain  had  made 
his  escape,  and  that  Halbert  Glendinning,  poor  bairn,  would 
sleep  unrevenged  and  unquiet  in  his  bloody  grave."  In  the 
lower  apartments  the  young  men  were  roaring  like  thunder, 
and  venting  in  oaths  and  exclamations  against  the  fugitives 
the  rage  which  they  experienced  in  finding  themselves  locked 
up  within  the  tower,  and  debarred  from  their  vindictive  pur- 
suit by  the  wily  precautions  of  Mysie  Happer.  The  authori- 
tative voice  of  the  sub-prior  commanding  silence  was  next 
heard;  upon  which  Mary  Avenel,  whose  tone  of  feeling  did 
not  lead  her  to  enter  into  counsel  or  society  with  the  rest  of 
the  party,  again  retired  to  her  solitary  chamber. 

The  rest  of  the  family  held  counsel  in  the  spence,  Edward 
almost  beside  himself  with  rage,  and  the  sub-prior  in  no  small 
degree  offended  at  the  effrontery  of  Mysie  Happer  in  attempt- 
ing such  a  scheme,  as  well  as  at  the  mingled  boldness  and  dex- 
terity with  which  it  had  been  executed.  But  neither  surprise 
nor  anger  availed  aught.  The  windows,  well  secured  with 
iron  bars  for  keeping  assailants  out,  proved  now  as  effectual 
for  detaining  the  inhabitants  within.  The  battlements  were 
open,  indeed;  but,  without  ladder  or  ropes  to  act  as  a  substitute 
for  wings,  there  was  no  possibility  of  descending  from  them. 
They  easily  succeeded  in  alarming  the  inhabitants  of  the  cot- 
tages beyond  the  precincts  of  the  court ;  but  the  men  had  been 
called  in  to  strengthen  the  guard  for  the  night,  and  only  wo- 
men and  children  remained,  who  could  contribute  nothing  in 
the  emergency,  except  their  useless  exclamations  of  surprise ; 
and  there  were  no  neighbours  for  miles  around.  Dame  Els- 
peth,  however,  though  drowned  in  tears,  was  not  so  unmind- 
ful of  external  affairs  but  that  she  could  find  voice  enough  to 
tell  the  women  and  children  without  to  "  leave  their  skirling, 
and  look  after  the  cows  that  she  couldna  get  minded,  what 
wi?  the  awfu'  distraction  of  her  mind,  what  wi?  that  fause 
slut  having  locked  them  up  in  their  ain  tower  as  fast  as  if 
they  had  been  in  the  Jeddart  tolbooth. " 


372 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Meanwhile,  the  men,  finding  other  modes  of  exit  impossible, 
unanimously  concluded  to  force  the  doors  with  such  tools  as 
the  house  afforded  for  the  purpose.  These  were  not  very 
proper  for  the  occasion,  and  the  strength  of  the  doors  was 
great.  The  interior  one,  formed  of  oak,  occupied  them  for 
three  mortal  hours,  and  there  was  little  prospect  of  the  iron 
door  being  forced  in  double  the  time. 

While  they  were  engaged  in  this  ungrateful  toil,  Mary  Ave- 
nel  had  with  much  less  labour  acquired  exact  knowledge  of 
what  the  Spirit  had  intimated  in  her  mystic  rhyme.  On  ex- 
maining  the  spot  which  the  phantom  had  indicated  by  her 
gestures,  it  was  not  difficult  to  discover  that  a  board  had  been 
loosened,  which  might  be  raised  at  pleasure.  On  removing 
this  piece  of  plank,  Mary  Avenel  was  astonished  to  find  the 
Black  Book,  well  remembered  by  her  as  her  mother's  favourite 
study,  of  which  she  immediately  took  possession,  with  as  much 
joy  as  her  present  situation  rendered  her  capable  of  feeling. 

Ignorant  in  a  great  measure  of  its  contents,  Mary  Avenel 
had  been  taught  from  her  infancy  to  hold  this  volume  in  sa- 
cred veneration.  It  is  probable  that  the  deceased  lady  of 
Walter  Avenel  only  postponed  initiating  her  daughter  into  the 
mysteries  of  the  Divine  Word  until  she  should  be  better  able 
to  comprehend  both  the  lessons  which  it  taught  and  the  risk 
at  which,  in  those  times,  they  were  studied.  Death  inter- 
posed, and  removed  her  before  the  times  became  favourable 
to  the  Eeformers,  and  before  her  daughter  was  so  far  advanced 
in  age  as  to  be  fit  to  receive  religious  instruction  of  this  deep 
import.  But  the  affectionate  mother  had  made  preparations 
for  the  earthly  work  which  she  had  most  at  heart.  There 
were  slips  of  paper  inserted  in  the  volume,  in  which,  by  an 
appeal  to,  and  a  comparison  of,  various  passages  in  Holy 
Writ,  the  errors  and  human  inventions  with  which  the  Church 
of  Borne  had  defaced  the  simple  edifice  of  Christianity,  as 
erected  by  its  Divine  architect,  were  pointed  out.  These  con- 
troversial topics  were  treated  with  a  spirit  of  calmness  and 
Christian  charity  which  might  have  been  an  example  to  the 
theologians  of  the  period ;  but  they  were  clearly,  fairly,  and 
plainly  argued,  and  supported  by  the  necessary  proofs  and 


THE  MONASTERY. 


373 


references.  Other  papers  there  were  which  had  no  reference 
whatever  to  polemics,  but  were  the  simple  effusions  of  a  de- 
vout mind  communing  with  itself.  Among  these  was  one  fre- 
quently used,  as  it  seemed  from  the  state  of  the  manuscript, 
on  which  the  mother  of  Mary  had  transcribed  and  placed  to- 
gether those  affecting  texts  to  which  the  heart  has  recourse  in 
affliction,  and  which  assure  us  at  once  of  the  sympathy  and 
protection  afforded  to  the  children  of  the  promise.  In  Mary 
Avenel' s  state  of  mind,  these  attracted  her  above  all  the  other 
lessons  which,  coming  from  a  hand  so  dear,  had  reached  her 
at  a  time  so  critical,  and  in  a  manner  so  touching.  She  read 
the  affecting  promise,  "  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake 
thee, "  and  the  consoling  exhortation,  "  Call  upon  me  in  the 
day  of  trouble,  and  I  will  deliver  thee."  She  read  them,  and 
her  heart  acquiesced  in  the  conclusion,  Surely  this  is  the  Word 
of  God! 

There  are  those  to  whom  a  sense  of  religion  has  come  in 
storm  and  tempest ;  there  are  those  whom  it  has  summoned 
amid  scenes  of  revelry  and  idle  vanity ;  there  are  those,  too, 
who  have  heard  its  "  still  small  voice  w  amid  rural  leisure  and 
placid  contentment.  But  perhaps  the  knowledge  which  caus- 
eth  not  to  err  is  most  frequently  impressed  upon  the  mind 
during  seasons  of  affliction ;  and  tears  are  the  softened  showers 
which  cause  the  seed  of  Heaven  to  spring  and  take  root  in  the 
human  breast.  At  least  it  was  thus  with  Mary  Avenel.  She 
was  insensible  to  the  discordant  noise  which  rang  below,  the 
clang  of  bars  and  the  jarring  symphony  of  the  levers  which 
they  used  to  force  them,  the  measured  shouts  of  the  labouring 
inmates  as  they  combined  their  strength  for  each  heave,  and 
gave  time  with  their  voices  to  the  exertion  of  their  arms,  and 
their  deeply-muttered  vows  of  revenge  on  the  fugitives  who 
had  bequeathed  them  at  their  departure  a  task  so  toilsome  and 
difficult.  Not  all  this  din,  combined  in  hideous  concert,  and 
expressive  of  aught  but  peace,  love,  and  forgiveness,  could 
divert  Mary  Avenel  from  the  new  course  of  study  on  which 
she  had  so  singularly  entered.  "  The  serenity  of  Heaven, w 
she  said,  "  is  above  me ;  the  sounds  which  are  around  are  but 
those  of  earth  and  earthly  passion." 


374 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Meanwhile,  the  noon  was  passed,  and  little  impression  was 
made  on  the  iron  grate,  when  they  who  laboured  at  it  re- 
ceived a  sudden  reinforcement  by  the  unexpected  arrival  of 
Christie  of  the  Clinthill.  He  came  at  the  head  of  a  small 
party,  consisting  of  four  horsemen,  who  bore  in  their  caps  the 
sprig  of  holly  which  was  the  badge  of  Avenel. 

"  What,  ho !  my  masters, "  he  said,  "  I  bring  you  a  prisoner." 

"  You  had  better  have  brought  us  liberty, "  said  Dan  of  the 
Howlethirst. 

Christie  looked  at  the  state  of  affairs  with  great  surprise. 
"An  I  were  to  be  hanged  for  it,"  he  said,  "  as  I  may  for  as 
little  a  matter,  I  could  not  forbear  laughing  at  seeing  men 
peeping  through  their  own  bars  like  so  many  rats  in  a  rat- 
trap,  and  he  with  the  beard  behind,  like  the  oldest  rat  in  the 
cellar!" 

"  Hush,  thou  unmannered  knave, "  said  Edward,  "  it  is  the 
sub-prior;  and  this  is  neither  time,  place,  nor  company  for 
your  ruffian  jests." 

"  What,  ho!  is  my  young  master  malapert?"  said  Christie; 
"  why,  man,  were  he  my  own  carnal  father,  instead  of  being 
father  to  half  the  world,  I  would  have  my  laugh  out.  And 
now  it  is  over,  I  must  assist  you,  I  reckon,  for  you  are  set- 
ting very  greenly  about  this  gear ;  put  the  pinch  nearer  the 
staple,  man,  and  hand  me  an  iron  crow  through  the  grate,  for 
that's  the  fowl  to  fly  away  with  a  wicket  on  its  shoulders.  I 
have  broke  into  as  many  grates  as  you  have  teeth  in  your 
young  head ;  ay,  and  broke  out  of  them,  too,  as  the  captain  of 
the  Castle  of  Lochmaben  knows  full  well." 

Christie  did  not  boast  more  skill  than  he  really  possessed ; 
for,  applying  their  combined  strength,  under  the  direction  of 
that  experienced  engineer,  bolt  and  staple  gave  way  before 
them,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  the  grate,  whict:  had  so 
long  repelled  their  force,  stood  open  before  them. 

"  And  now, "  said  Edward,  "  to  horse,  my  mates,  and  pursue 
the  villain  Shafton!" 

"Halt  there,"  said  Christie  of  the  Clinthill;  "pursue  your 
guest,  my  master's  friend  and  my  own !  There  go  two  words  to 
that  bargain.    What  the  foul  fiend  would  you  pursue  him  for?" 


THE  MONASTERY. 


375 


"  Let  me  pass, "  said  Edward,  vehemently,  "  I  will  be  staid 
by  no  man ;  the  villain  has  mnrdered  my  brother. " 

"What  says  he?"  said  Christie,  turning  to  the  others; 
"  murdered?  who  is  murdered,  and  by  whom?" 

"  The  Englishman,  Sir  Piercie  Shaf  ton, "  said  Dan  of  the 
Howlethirst,  "  has  murdered  young  Halbert  Glendinning  yes- 
terday morning,  and  we  have  all  risen  to  the  fray." 

"Ib  is  a  bedlam  business,  I  think,"  said  Christie.  " First 
I  find  you  all  locked  up  in  }^our  own  tower,  and  next  I  am 
come  to  prevent  you  revenging  a  murder  that  was  never  com- 
mitted!" 

"  I  tell  you, "  said  Edward,  "  that  my  brother  was  slain  and 
buried  yesterday  morning  by  this  false  Englishman." 

"And  I  tell  you,"  answered  Christie,  "that  I  saw  him  alive 
and  well  last  night.  I  would  I  knew  his  trick  of  getting  out 
of  the  grave ;  most  men  find  it  more  hard  to  break  through  a 
green  sod  than  a  grated  door. " 

Everybody  now  paused,  and  looked  on  Christie  in  astonish- 
ment, until  the  sub-prior,  who  had  hitherto  avoided  communi- 
cation with  him,  came  up,  and  required  earnestly  to  know 
whether  he  meant  really  to  maintain  that  Halbert  Glendinning 
lived. 

"  Father, "  he  said,  with  more  respect  than  he  usually  showed 
to  any  one  save  his  master,  "  I  confess  I  may  sometimes  jest 
with  those  of  your  coat,  but  not  with  you;  because,  as  you 
may  partly  recollect,  I  owe  you  a  life.  It  is  certain  as  the 
sun  is  in  heaven  that  Halbert  Glendinning  supped  at  the 
house  of  my  master  the  Baron  of  Avenel  last  night,  and  that  he 
came  thither  in  company  with  an  old  man,  of  whom  more  anon. " 

"And  where  is  he  now?" 

"  The  devil  only  can  answer  that  question, "  replied  Chris- 
tie, "  for  the  devil  has  possessed  the  whole  family,  I  think. 
He  took  fright,  the  foolish  lad,  at  something  or  other  which 
our  Baron  did  in  his  moody  humour,  and  so  he  jumped  into 
the  lake  and  swam  ashore  like  a  wild  duck.  Bo  bin  of  Bed- 
castle  spoiled  a  good  gelding  in  chasing  him  this  morning." 

"And  why  did  he  chase  the  youth?"  said  the  sub-prior  j 
"what  harm  had  he  done?" 


376 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  None  that  I  know  of, "  said  Christie ;  "  but  such  was  the 
Baron's  order,  being  in  his  mood,  and  all  the  world  having 
gone  mad,  as  I  have  said  before." 

l<  Whither  away  so  fast,  Edward?"  said  the  monk. 

"  To  Corrie-nan-Shian,  father, "  answered  the  youth.  "  Mar- 
tin and  Dan,  take  pickaxe  and  mattock,  and  follow  me  if  you 
be  men!" 

"Eight,"  said  the  monk,  " and  fail  not  to  give  us  instant 
notice  what  you  find." 

"If  you  find  aught  there  like  Halbert  Glendinning, "  said 
Christie,  hallooing  after  Edward,  "  I  will  be  bound  to  eat  him 
unsalted.  ?Tis  a  sight  to  see  now  how  that  fellow  takes  the 
bent!  It  is  in  the  time  of  action  men  see  what  lads  are  made 
of.  Halbert  was  aye  skipping  up  and  down  like  a  roe,  and 
his  brother  used  to  sit  in  the  chimney-nook,  with  his  book  and 
sic-like  trash.  But  the  lad  was  like  a  loaded  hackbut,  which 
will  stand  in  the  corner  as  quiet  as  an  old  crutch  until  ye  draw 
the  trigger,  and  then  there  is  nothing  but  flash  and  smoke. 
But  here  comes  my  prisoner ;  and,  setting  other  matters  aside, 
I  must  pray  a  word  with  you,  sir  sub-prior,  respecting  him. 
I  came  on  before  to  treat  about  him,  but  I  was  interrupted 
with  this  fasherie." 

As  he  spoke,  two  more  of  AvenePs  troopers  rode  into  the 
courtyard,  leading  betwixt  them  a  horse,  on  which,  with  his 
hands  bound  to  his  side,  sate  the  Reformed  preacher,  Henry 
Warden. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

At  school  I  knew  him — a  sharp-witted  youth, 
Grave,  thoughtful,  and  reserved  among  his  mates, 
Turning  the  hours  of  sport  and  food  to  labour, 
Starving  his  body  to  inform  his  mind. 

Old  Play. 

The  sub-prior,  at  the  Borderer's  request,  had  not  failed  to 
return  to  the  tower,  into  which  he  was  followed  by  Christie  of 
the  Clinthill,  who,  shutting  the  door  of  the  apartment,  drew 
near,  and  began  his  discourse  with  great  confidence  and  famil- 
iarity. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


377 


"My  master/'  he  said,  " sends  me  with  his  commendations 
to  you,  sir  sub-prior,  above  all  the  community  of  St.  Mary's, 
and  more  specially  than  even  to  the  abbot  himself;  for, 
though  he  be  termed,  'my  lord,'  and  so  forth,  all  the  world 
knows  that  you  are  the  tongue  of  the  trump." 

"  If  you  have  aught  to  say  to  me  concerning  the  community," 
said  the  sub-prior,  "  it  were  well  you  proceeded  in  it  without 
further  delay.  Time  presses,  and  the  fate  of  young  Glendin- 
ning  dwells  on  my  mind." 

"  I  will  be  caution  for  him,  body  for  body, "  said  Christie. 
"  I  do  protest  to  you,  as  sure  as  I  am  a  living  man,  so  surely 
is  he  one." 

"  Should  I  not  tell  his  unhappy  mother  the  joyful  tidings?" 
said  Father  Eustace ;  "  and  yet  better  waib  till  they  return 
from  searching  the  grave.  Well,  sir  jack-man,  your  message 
to  me  from  your  master?" 

"My  lord  and  master,"  said  Chrisie,  "hath  good  reason  to 
believe  that,  from  the  information  of  certain  back-friends, 
whom  he  will  reward  at  more  leisure,  your  reverend  commu- 
nity hath  been  led  to  deem  him  ill  attached  to  Holy  Church, 
allied  with  heretics  and  those  who  favour  heresy,  and  a  hun- 
gerer  after  the  spoils  of  your  abbey." 

"Be  brief,  good  henchman,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "for  the 
devil  is  ever  most  to  be  feared  when  he  preacheth." 

"  Briefly  then — my  master  desires  your  friendship ;  and  to 
excuse  himself  from  the  maligners'  calumnies,  he  sends  to 
your  abbot  that  Henry  Warden  whose  sermons  have  turned 
the  world  upside  down,  to  be  dealt  with  as  Holy  Church  di- 
rects, and  as  the  abbot's  pleasure  may  determine." 

The  sub-prior's  eyes  sparkled  at  the  intelligence;  for  it  had 
been  accounted  a  matter  of  great  importance  that  this  man 
should  be  arrested,  possessed,  as  he  was  known  to  be,  of  so 
much  zeal  and  popularity  that  scarcely  the  preaching  of  Knox 
himself  had  been  more  awakening  to  the  people,  and  more 
formidable  to  the  Church  of  Rome. 

In  fact,  that  ancient  system,  which  so  well  accommodated 
its  doctrines  to  the  wants  and  wishes  of  a  barbarous  age,  had, 
since  the  art  of  printing  and  the  gradual  diffusion  of  knowl- 


378 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


edge,  lain  floating  like  some  huge  leviathan,  into  which  ten 
thousand  reforming  fishers  were  darting  their  harpoons.  The 
Koman  Church  of  Scotland,  in  particular,  was  at  her  last  gasp, 
actually  blowing  blood  and  water,  yet  still  with  unremitted, 
though  animal,  exertions  maintaining  the  conflict  with  the  as- 
sailants, who  on  every  side  were  plunging  their  weapons  into 
her  bulky  body.  In  many  large  towns  the  monasteries  had 
been  suppressed  by  the  fury  of  the  populace ;  in  other  places, 
their  possessions  had  been  usurped  by  the  power  of  the  Re- 
formed nobles;  but  still  the  hierarchy  made  a  part  of  the 
common  law  of  the  realm,  and  might  claim  both  its  property 
and  its  privileges  wherever  it  had  the  means  of  asserting  them. 
The  community  of  St.  Mary's  of  Kennaquhair  was  considered 
as  being  particularly  in  this  situation.  They  had  retained, 
undiminished,  their  territorial  power  and  influence ;  and  the 
great  barons  in  the  neighbourhood,  partly  from  their  attach- 
ment to  the  party  in  the  state  who  still  upheld  the  old  system 
of  religion,  partly  because  each  grudged  the  share  of  the  prey 
which  the  others  must  necessarily  cldim,  had  as  yet  abstained 
from  despoiling  the  halidome.  The  community  was  also  un- 
derstood to  be  protected  by  the  powerful  Earls  of  Northumber- 
land and  Westmoreland,  whose  zealous  attachment  to  the 
Catholic  faith  caused  at  a  later  period  the  great  rebellion  of 
the  tenth  of  Elizabeth. 

Thus  happily  placed,  it  was  supposed  by  the  friends  of  the 
decaying  cause  of  the  Roman  Catholic  faith  that  some  deter- 
mined example  of  courage  and  resolution,  exercised  where  the 
franchises  of  the  church  were  yet  entire,  and  her  jurisdiction 
undisputed,  might  awe  the  progress  of  the  new  opinions  into 
activity ;  and,  protected  by  the  laws  which  still  existed  and 
by  the  favour  of  the  sovereign,  might  be  the  means  of  secur- 
ing the  territory  which  Rome  yet  preserved  in  Scotland,  and 
perhaps  of  recovering  that  which  she  had  lost. 

The  matter  had  been  considered  more  than  once  by  the 
northern  Catholics  of  Scotland,  and  they  had  held  communi- 
cation with  those  of  the  south.  Father  Eustace,  devoted  by 
his  public  and  private  vows,  had  caught  the  flame,  and  had 
eagerly  advised  that  they  should  execute  the  doom  of  heresy 


THE  MONASTERY. 


379 


on  the  first  Reformed  preacher,  or,  according  to  his  sense,  on 
the  first  heretic  of  eminence,  who  should  venture  within  the 
precincts  of  the  halidome.  A  heart  naturally  kind  and  noble 
was,  in  this  instance,  as  it  has  been  in  many  more,  deceived 
by  its  own  generosity.  Father  Eustace  would  have  been  a 
bad  administrator  of  the  inquisitorial  power  of  Spain,  where 
that  power  was  omnipotent,  and  where  judgment  was  exercised 
without  danger  to  those  who  inflicted  it.  In  such  a  situation 
his  rigour  might  have  relented  in  favour  of  the  criminal,  whom 
it  was  at  his  pleasure  to  crush  or  to  place  at  freedom.  But  in 
Scotland  during  this  crisis  the  case  was  entirely  different. 
The  question  was,  whether  one  of  the  spirituality  dared,  at 
the  hazard  of  his  own  life,  to  step  forward  to  assert  and  exer- 
cise the  rights  of  the  church.  Was  there  any  one  who  would 
venture  to  wield  the  thunder  in  her  cause,  or  must  it  remain 
like  that  in  the  hand  of  a  painted  Jupiter,  the  object  of  deri- 
sion instead  of  terror?  The  crisis  was  calculated  to  awake 
the  soul  of  Eustace ;  for  it  comprised  the  question,  whether  he 
dared,  at  all  hazards  to  himself,  to  execute  with  stoical  severity 
a  measure  which,  according  to  the  general  opinion,  was  to  be 
advantageous  to  the  church,  and,  according  to  ancient  law, 
and  to  his  firm  belief,  was  not  only  justifiable,  but  meritorious. 

While  such  resolutions  were  agitated  amongst  the  Catholics, 
chance  placed  a  victim  within  their  grasp.  Henry  Warden 
had,  with  the  animation  proper  to  the  enthusiastic  Reformers 
of  the  age,  transgressed,  in  the  vehemence  of  his  zeal,  the 
bounds  of  the  discretional  liberty  allowed  to  his  sect  so  far 
that  it  was  thought  the  Queen's  personal  dignity  was  con- 
cerned in  bringing  him  to  justice.  He  fled  from  Edinburgh, 
with  recommendations,  however,  from  Lord  James  Stuart, 
afterwards  the  celebrated  Earl  of  Murray,  to  some  of  the 
Border  chieftains  of  inferior  rank,  who  were  privately  con- 
jured to  procure  him  safe  passage  into  England.  One  of  the 
principal  persons  to  whom  such  recommendation  was  addressed 
was  Julian  Avenel ;  for  as  yet,  and  for  a  considerable  time 
afterwards,  the  correspondence  and  interest  of  Lord  James 
lay  rather  with  the  subordinate  leaders  than  with  the  chiefs 
of   great  power  and  men  of  distinguished  influence  upon 


380 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  Border.  Julian  Avenel  had  intrigued  without  scruple 
with  both  parties ;  yet,  bad  as  he  was,  he  certainly  would  not 
have  practised  aught  against  the  guest  whom  Lord  James  had 
recommended  to  his  hospitality,  had  it  not  been  for  what  he 
termed  the  preacher's  officious  intermeddling  in  his  family 
affairs.  But  when  he  had  determined  to  make  Warden  rue 
the  lecture  he  had  read  him,  and  the  scene  of  public  scandal 
which  he  had  caused  in  his  hall,  Julian  resolved,  with  the 
constitutional  shrewdness  of  his  disposition,  to  combine  his 
vengeance  with  his  interest.  And  therefore,  instead  of  doing 
violence  on  the  person  of  Henry  Warden  within  his  own  cas- 
tle, he  determined  to  deliver  him  up  to  the  community  of  St. 
Mary's,  and  at  once  make  them  the  instruments  of  his  own 
revenge  and  found  a  claim  of  personal  recompense,  either  in 
money  or  in  a  grant  of  abbey  lands  at  a  low  quit-rent,  which 
last  began  now  to  be  the  established  form  in  which  the  tem- 
poral nobles  plundered  the  spirituality. 

The  sub-prior,  therefore,  of  St.  Mary's  unexpectedly  saw 
the  steadfast,  active,  and  inflexible  enemy  of  the  church  de- 
livered into  his  hand,  and  felt  himself  called  upon  to  make 
good  his  promises  to  the  friends  of  the  Catholic  faith,  by 
quenching  heresy  in  the  blood  of  one  of  its  most  zealous  pro- 
fessors. 

To  the  honour  more  of  Father  Eustace's  heart  than  of  his 
consistency,  the  communication  that  Henry  Warden  was 
placed  within  his  power  struck  him  with  more  sorrow  than 
triumph;  but  his  next  feelings  were  those  of  exultation. 
"It  is  sad,"  he  said  to  himself,  "to  cause  human  suffering,  it 
is  awful  to  cause  human  blood  to  be  spilled;  but  the  judge  to 
whom  the  sword  of  St.  Paul,  as  well  as  the  keys  of  St.  Peter, 
are  confided  must  not  flinch  from  his  task.  Our  weapon  re- 
turns into  our  own  bosom  if  not  wielded  with  a  steady  and 
unrelenting  hand  against  the  irreconcilable  enemies  of  the 
Holy  Church.  Pereat  iste  !  It  is  the  doom  he  has  incurred, 
and  were  all  the  heretics  in  Scotland  armed  and  at  his  back, 
they  should  not  prevent  its  being  pronounced,  and,  if  possible, 
enforced.  Bring  the  heretic  before  me, "  he  said,  issuing  his 
commands  aloud  and  in  a  tone  of  authority. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


381 


Henry  Warden  was  led  in,  his  hands  still  bound,  but  his 
feet  at  liberty. 

"  Clear  the  apartment, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  of  all  but  the 
necessary  guard  on  the  prisoner." 

All  retired  excepting  Christie  of  the  Clinthill,  who,  having 
dismissed  the  inferior  troopers  whom  he  commanded,  un- 
sheathed his  sword,  and  placed  himself  beside  the  door,  as 
if  taking  upon  him  the  character  of  sentinel. 

The  judge  and  the  accused  met  face  to  face,  and  in  that  of 
both  was  enthroned  the  noble  confidence  of  rectitude.  The 
monk  was  about,  at  the  utmost  risk  to  himself  and  his  com- 
munity, to  exercise  what  in  his  ignorance  he  conceived  to  be 
his  duty.  The  preacher,  actuated  by  a  better-informed,  yet 
not  a  more  ardent,  zeal,  was  prompt  to  submit  to  execution 
for  God's  sake,  and  to  seal,  were  it  necessary,  his  mission  with 
his  blood.  Placed  at  such  a  distance  of  time  as  better  enables 
us  to  appreciate  the  tendency  of  the  principles  on  which  they 
severally  acted,  we  cannot  doubt  to  which  the  palm  ought  to 
be  awarded.  But  the  zeal  of  Father  Eustace  was  as  free  from 
passion  and  personal  views  as  if  it  had  been  exerted  in  a  better 
cause. 

They  approached  each  other,  armed  each  and  prepared  for 
intellectual  conflict,  and  each  intently  regarding  his  opponent, 
as  if  either  hoped  to  spy  out  some  defect,  some  chasm  in  the 
armour  of  his  antagonist.  As  they  gazed  on  each  other,  old 
recollections  began  to  awake  in  either  bosom,  at  the  sight  of 
features  long  unseen  and  much  altered,  but  not  forgotten. 
The  brow  of  the  sub-prior  dismissed  by  degrees  its  frown  of 
command,  the  look  of  calm  yet  stern  defiance  gradually  van- 
ished from  that  of  Warden,  and  both  lost  for  an  instant  that 
of  gloomy  solemnity.  They  had  been  ancient  and  intimate 
friends  in  youth  at  a  foreign  university,  but  had  been  long 
separated  from  each  other;  and  the  change  of  name,  which 
the  preacher  had  adopted  from  motives  of  safety,  and  the 
monk  from  the  common  custom  of  the  convent,  had  prevented 
the  possibility  of  their  hitherto  recognising  each  other  in  the 
opposite  parts  which  they  had  been  playing  in  the  great 
polemical  and  political  drama.    But  now  the  sub-prior  ex- 


382 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


claimed,  "  Henry  Wellwood!"  and  the  preacher  replied,  "Wil- 
liam Allan!"  and,  stirred  by  the  old  familiar  names  and  never- 
to-be-forgotten  recollections  of  college  studies  and  college 
intimacy,  their  hands  were  for  a  moment  locked  in  each  other. 

"  Remove  his  bonds, "  said  the  sub-prior,  and  assisted 
Christie  in  performing  that  office  with  his  own  hands,  al- 
though the  prisoner  scarcely  would  consent  to  be  unbound, 
repeating  with  emphasis  that  he  rejoiced  in  the  cause  for 
which  he  suffered  shame.  When  his  hands  were  at  liberty, 
however,  he  showed  his  sense  of  the  kindness  by  again  ex- 
changing a  grasp  and  a  look  of  affection  with  the  sub-prior. 

The  salute  was  frank  and  generous  on  either  side,  yet  it 
was  but  the  friendly  recognition  and  greeting  which  is  wont 
to  take  place  betwixt  adverse  champions,  who  do  nothing  in 
hate,  but  all  in  honour.  As  each  felt  the  pressure  of  the 
situation  in  which  they  stood,  he  quitted  the  grasp  of  the 
other's  hand,  and  they  fell  back,  confronting  each  other  with 
looks  more  calm  and  sorrowful  than  expressive  of  any  other 
passion. 

The  sub-prior  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  And  is  this,  then, 
the  end  of  that  restless  activity  of  mind,  that  bold  and  inde- 
fatigable love  of  truth,  that  urged  investigation  to  its  utmost 
limits,  and  seemed  to  take  Heaven  itself  by  storm :  is  this  the 
termination  of  Wellwood' s  career?  And  having  known  and 
loved  him  during  the  best  years  of  our  youth,  do  we  meet  in 
our  old  age  as  judge  and  criminal?" 

"Not  as  judge  and  criminal,"  said  Henry  Warden,  for  to 
avoid  confusion  we  describe  him  by  his  later  and  best-known 
name — "  not  as  judge  and  criminal  do  we  meet,  but  as  a  mis- 
guided oppressor  and  his  ready  and  devoted  victim.  I -too 
may  ask,  are  these  the  harvest  of  the  rich  hopes  excited  by 
the  classical  learning,  acute  logical  powers,  and  varied  knowl- 
edge of  William  Allan,  that  he  should  sink  to  be  the  solitary 
drone  of  a  cell,  graced  only  above  the  swarm  with  the  high 
commission  of  executing  Roman  malice  on  all  who  oppose  Ro- 
man imposture?" 

"Not  to  thee,"  answered  the  sub-prior,  "be  assured — not 
unto  thee,  nor  unto  mortal  man,  will  I  render  an  account  of 


THE  MONASTERY. 


383 


the  power  with  which  the  church  may  have  invested  me.  It 
was  granted  but  as  a  deposit  for  her  welfare ;  for  her  welfare 
it  shall  at  every  risk  be  exercised,  without  fear  and  without 
favour. " 

"  I  expected  no  less  from  your  misguided  zeal, "  answered 
the  preacher ;  "  and  in  me  have  you  met  one  on  whom  you 
may  fearlessly  exercise  your  authority,  secure  that  his  mind 
at  least  will  defy  your  influence,  as  the  snows  of  that  Mont 
Blanc  which  we  saw  together  shrink  not  under  the  heat  of  the 
hottest  summer  sun." 

"  I  do  believe  thee, "  said  the  sub-prior — "  I  do  believe  that 
thine  is  indeed  metal  unmalleable  by  force.  Let  it  yield  then 
to  persuasion.  Let  us  debate  these  matters  of  faith  as  we 
once  were  wont  to  conduct  our  scholastic  disputes,  when  hours, 
nay  days,  glided  past  in  the  mutual  exercise  of  our  intellectual 
powers.  It  may  be  thou  mayst  yet  hear  the  voice  of  the 
shepherd,  and  return  to  the  universal  fold." 

"  No,  Allan, "  replied  the  prisoner,  "  this  is  no  vain  ques- 
tion, devised  by  dreaming  scholiasts,  on  which  they  may  w^het 
their  intellectual  faculties  until  the  very  metal  be  wasted 
away.  The  errors  which  I  combat  are  like  those  fiends  which 
are  only  cast  out  by  fasting  and  prayer.  Alas!  not  many 
wise,  not  many  learned  are  chosen ;  the  cottage  and  the  ham- 
let shall  in  our  days  bear  witness  against  the  schools  and  their 
disciples.  Thy  very  wisdom,  which  is  foolishness,  hath  made 
thee,  as  the  Greeks  of  old,  hold  as  foolishness  that  which  is 
the  only  true  wisdom." 

"  This, "  said  the  sub-prior,  sternly,  "  is  the  mere  cant  of 
ignorant  enthusiasm,  which  appealeth  from  learning  and  from 
authority,  from  the  sure  guidance  of  that  lamp  which  God 
hath  afforded  us  in  the  councils  and  in  the  fathers  of  the 
church,  to  a  rash,  self-willed,  and  arbitrary  interpretation  of 
the  Scriptures,  wrested  according  to  the  private  opinion  of 
each  speculating  heretic." 

"  I  disdain  to  reply  to  the  charge, "  replied  Warden.  "  The 
question  at  issue  between  your  church  and  mine  is,  whether 
we  will  be  judged  by  the  Holy  Scriptures,  or  by  the  devices 
and  decisions  of  men  not  less  subject  to  error  than  ourselves, 


384 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  who  have  defaced  our  holy  religion  with  vain  devices, 
reared  up  idols  of  stone  and  wood,  in  form  of  those  who, 
when  they  lived,  were  but  sinful  creatures,  to  share  the  wor- 
ship due  only  to  the  Creator;  established  a  toll-house  be- 
twixt Heaven  and  Hell,  that  profitable  purgatory  of  which  the 
Pope  keeps  the  keys,  like  an  iniquitous  judge  commutes  pun- 
ishment for  bribes,  and  " 

"  Silence,  blasphemer,"  said  the  sub-prior,  sternly,  "or  I 
will  have  thy  blatant  obloquy  stopped  with  a  gag!" 

"Ay,"  replied  Warden,  "such  is  the  freedom  of  the  Chris- 
tian conference  to  which  Rome's  priests  so  kindly  invite  us! 
— the  gag — the  rack — the  axe — is  the  ratio  ultima  Romm. 
But  know  thou,  mine  ancient  friend,  that  the  character  of 
thy  former  companion  is  not  so  changed  by  age  but  that  he 
still  dares  to  endure  for  the  cause  of  truth  all  that  thy  proud 
hierarchy  shall  dare  to  inflict." 

"Of  that,"  said  the  monk,  "I  nothing  doubt.  Thou  wert 
ever  a  lion  to  turn  against  the  spear  of  the  hunter,  not  a  stag 
to  be  dismayed  at  the  sound  of  his  bugle."  He  walked  through 
the  room  in  silence.  "Wellwood,"  he  said  at  length,  "we 
can  no  longer  be  friends.  Our  faith,  our  hope,  our  anchor 
on  futurity  is  no  longer  the  same. " 

"  Deep  is  my  sorrow  that  thou  speakest  truth.  May  God 
so  judge  me,"  said  the  Reformer,  "as  I  would  buy  the 
conversion  of  a  soul  like  thine  with  my  dearest  heart's 
blood." 

"  To  thee,  and  with  better  reason,  do  I  return  the  wish,"  re- 
plied the  sub-prior ;  "  it  is  such  an  arm  as  thine  that  should 
defend  the  bulwarks  of  the  church,  and  it  is  now  directing 
the  battering-ram  against  them,  and  rendering  practicable  the 
breach  through  which  all  that  is  greedy,  and  all  that  is  base, 
and  all  that  is  mutable  and  hot-headed  in  this  innovating  age 
already  hope  to  advance  to  destruction  and  to  spoil.  But 
since  such  is  our  fate,  that  we  can  no  longer  fight  side  by  side 
as  friends,  let  us  at  least  act  as  generous  enemies.  You  can- 
not have  forgotten, 

O  gran  bonta  dei  cavalieri  antiqui  ! 
Erano  nemici,  eran'  de  fede  diversa  


THE  MONASTERY. 


385 


Although,  perhaps/'  he  added,  stopping  short  in  his  quota- 
tion, "  your  new  faith  forbids  you  to  reserve  a  place  in  your 
memory  even  for  what  high  poets  have  recorded  of  loyal  faith 
and  generous  sentiment." 

"  The  faith  of  Buchanan,"  replied  the  preacher — "  the  faith 
of  Buchanan  and  of  Beza  cannot  be  unfriendly  to  literature. 
But  the  poet  you  have  quoted  affords  strains  fitter  for  a  dis- 
solute court  than  for  a  convent." 

"  I  might  retort  on  your  Theodore  Beza, "  said  the  sub-prior, 
smiling ;  "  but  I  hate  the  judgment  that,  like  the  flesh-fly, 
skims  over  whatever  is  sound,  to  detect  and  settle  upon  some 
spot  which  is  tainted.  But  to  the  purpose.  If  I  conduct  thee 
or  send  thee  a  prisoner  to  St.  Mary's,  thou  art  to-night  a  ten- 
ant of  the  dungeon,  to-morrow  a  burden  to  the  gibbet- tree.  If 
I  were  to  let  thee  go  hence  at  large,  I  were  thereby  wronging 
the  Holy  Church,  and  breaking  mine  own  solemn  vow.  Other 
resolutions  may  be  adopted  in  the  capital,  or  better  times  may 
speedily  ensue.  Wilt  thou  remain  a  true  prisoner  upon  thy 
parole,  rescue  or  no  rescue,  as  is  the  phrase  amongst  the  war- 
riors of  this  country?  Wilt  thou  solemnly  promise  that  thou 
wilt  do  so,  and  that  at  my  summons  thou  wilt  present  thyself 
before  the  abbot  and  chapter  of  St.  Mary's,  and  that  thou  wilt 
not  stir  from  this  house  above  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  any  direc- 
tion? Wilt  thou,  I  say,  engage  me  thy  word  for  this?  and 
such  is  the  sure  trust  which  I  repose  in  thy  good  faith,  that 
thou  shalt  remain  here  unharmed  and  unsecured,  a  prisoner 
at  large,  subject  only  to  appear  before  our  court  when  called 
upon. "  i 

The  preacher  paused.  "  I  am  unwilling, "  he  said,  "  to  fey 
ter  my  native  liberty  by  any  self-adopted  engagement,  ^at 
I  am  already  in  your  power,  and  you  may  bind  me  to  mv  an- 
swer. By  such  promise,  to  abide  within  a  certain  limit  and 
to  appear  when  called  upon,  I  renounce  not  any  liberty  which 
I  at  present  possess  and  am  free  to  exercise ;  but,  on.  the  con- 
trary, being  in  bonds,  and  at  your  mercy,  I  acquire  thereby  a 
liberty  which  I  at  present  possess  not.  I  will  therefore  ac- 
cept of  thy  proffer,  as  what  is  courteously  offered  on  thy  part, 
and  may  be  honourably  accepted  on  mine." 
25 


386 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Stay  yet,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "one  important  part  of  thy 
engagement  is  forgotten:  thou  art  farther  to  promise  that, 
while  thus  left  at  liberty,  thou  wilt  not  preach  or  teach,  di- 
rectly or  indirectly,  any  of  those  pestilent  heresies  by  which 
so  many  souls  have  been  in  this  our  day  won  over  from  the 
kingdom  of  light  to  the  kingdom  of  darkness." 

"There  we  break  off  our  treaty,"  said  Warden,  firmly. 
"Woe  unto  me  if  I  preach  not  the  Gospel!" 

The  sub-prior's  countenance  became  clouded,  and  he  again 
paced  the  apartment,  and  muttered,  "  A  plague  upon  the  self- 
willed  fool!"  then  stopped  short  in  his  walk,  and  proceeded 
in  his  argument.  "  Why,  by  thine  own  reasoning,  Henry, 
thy  refusal  here  is  but  peevish  obstinacy.  It  is  in  my  power 
to  place  you  where  your  preaching  can  reach  no  human  ear; 
in  promising  therefore  to  abstain  from  it,  you  grant  nothing 
which  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  refuse." 

"I  know  not  that,"  replied  Henry  Warden;  "thou  mayst 
indeed  cast  me  into  a  dungeon,  but  can  I  foretell  that  my 
Master  hath  not  task-work  for  me  to  perform  even  in  that 
dreary  mansion?  The  chains  of  saints  have,  ere  now,  been 
the  means  of  breaking  the  bonds  of  Satan.  In  a  prison,  holy 
Paul  found  the  jailor  whom  he  brought  to  believe  the  word  of 
salvation,  he  and  all  his  house." 

"Nay,"  said  the  sub-prior,  in  a  tone  betwixt  anger  and 
scorn,  "  if  you  match  yourself  with  the  blessed  Apostle,  it 
were  time  we  had  done ;  prepare  to  endure  what  thy  folly,  as 
well  as  thy  heresy,  deserves.    Bind  him,  soldier." 

With  proud  submission  to  his  fate,  and  regarding  the  sub- 
pi' or  with  something  w^hich  almost  amounted  to  a  smile  of 
superiority,  the  preacher  placed  his  arms  so  that  the  bonds 
be  again  fastened  round  him. 

"  Spare  me  not, "  he  said  to  Christie ;  for  even  that  ruffian 
hesitated  to  draw  the  cord  straitly. 

The  sub-prior,  meanwhile,  looked  at  him  from  under  his 
cowl,  which  he  had  drawn  over  his  head,  and  partly  over  his 
face,  as  if  he  wished  to  shade  his  own  emotions.  They  were 
those  of  a  huntsman  within  point-blank  shot  of  a  noble  stag, 
who  is  yet  too  much  struck  with  his  majesty  of  front  and  of 


THE  MONASTERY. 


387 


antler  to  take  aim  at  hini.  They  were  those  of  a  fowler,  who, 
levelling  his  gun  at  a  magnificent  eagle,  is  yet  reluctant  to  use 
his  advantage  when  he  sees  the  noble  sovereign  of  the  birds 
pruning  himself  m  proud  defiance  of  whatever  may  be  at- 
tempted against  him.  The  heart  of  the  sub-prior,  bigoted  as 
he  was,  relented,  and  he  doubted  if  he  ought  to  purchase,  by 
a  rigorous  discharge  of  what  he  deemed  his  duty,  the  remorse 
he  might  afterwards  feel  for  the  death  of  one  so  nobly  inde- 
pendent in  thought  and  character,  the  friend,  besides,  of  his 
own  happiest  years,  during  which  they  had,  side  by  side, 
striven  in  the  noble  race  of  knowledge,  and  indulged  their 
intervals  of  repose  in  the  lighter  studies  of  classical  and  gen- 
eral letters. 

The  sub-prior's  hand  pressed  his  half -overshadowed  cheek, 
and  his  eye,  more  completely  obscured,  was  bent  on  the  ground, 
as  if  to  hide  the  workings  of  his  relenting  nature. 

"Were  but  Edward  safe  from  the  infection,"  he  thought  to 
himself — "  Edward,  whose  eager  and  enthusiastic  mind  presses 
forward  in  the  chase  of  all  that  hath  even  the  shadow  of  knowl- 
edge, I  might  trust  this  enthusiast  with  the  women,  after  due 
caution  to  them  that  they  cannot,  without  guilt,  attend  to  his 
reveries." 

As  the  sub-prior  revolved  these  thoughts,  and  delayed  the 
definitive  order  which  was  to  determine  the  fate  of  the  pris- 
oner, a  sudden  noise  at  the  entrance  of  the  tower  diverted  his 
attention  for  an  instant;  and,  his  cheek  and  brow  inflamed 
with  all  the  glow  of  heat  and  determination,  Edward  Glendin- 
ning  rushed  into  the  room. 


388 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Then  in  my  gown  of  sober  grey 
Along  the  mountain  path  I'll  wander, 

And  wind  my  solitary  way 
To  the  sad  shrine  that  courts  me  yonder. 

There,  in  the  calm  monastic  shade, 

All  injuries  may  be  forgiven  , 
And  there  for  thee,  obdurate  maid, 

My  orisons  shall  rise  to  heaven. 

The  Cruel  Lady  of  the  Mountain. 

The  first  words  which  Edward  uttered  were :  "  My  brother 
is  safe,  reverend  father — he  is  safe,  thank  God,  and  lives! 
There  is  not  in  Corrie-nan-Shian  a  grave,  nor  a  vestige  of  a 
grave.  The  turf  around  the  fountain  has  neither  been  dis- 
turbed by  pick-axe,  spade,  or  mattock  since  the  deer's-hair 
first  sprang  there.    He  lives  as  surely  as  I  live!" 

The  earnestness  of  the  youth — the  vivacity  with  which  he 
looked  and  moved — the  springy  step,  outstretched  hand,  and 
ardent  eye,  reminded  Henry  Warden  of  Halbert,  so  lately  his 
guide.  The  brothers  had  indeed  a  strong  family  resemblance, 
though  Halbert  was  far  more  athletic  and  active  in  his  person, 
taller  and  better  knit  in  the  limbs,  and  though  Edward  had, 
on  ordinary  occasions,  a  look  of  more  habitual  acuteness  and 
more  profound  reflection.  The  preacher  was  interested  as 
well  as  the  sub-prior. 

"Of  whom  do  you  speak,  my  son?"  he  said,  in  a  tone  as 
unconcerned  as  if  his  own  fate  had  not  been  at  the  same  in- 
stant trembling  in  the  balance,  and  as  if  a  dungeon  and  death 
did  not  appear  to  be  his  instant  doom — "of  whom,  I  say, 
speak  you?  If  of  a  youth  somewhat  older  than  you  seem  to 
be,  brown-haired,  open-featured,  taller  and  stronger  than  you 
appear,  yet  having  much  of  the  same  air,  and  of  the  same  tone 
of  voice — if  such  a  one  is  the  brother  whom  you  seek,  it  may 
be  I  can  tell  you  news  of  him." 

"Speak,  then,  for  Heaven's  sake,"  said  Edward;  "life  or 
death  lies  on  thy  tongue." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


389 


The  sub-prior  joined  eagerly  in  the  same  request,  and,  with- 
out waiting  to  be  urged,  the  preacher  gave  a  minute  account 
of  the  circumstances  under  which  he  met  the  elder  Glendin- 
ning,  with  so  exact  a  description  of  his  person  that  there  re- 
mained no  doubt  as  to  his  identity.  When  he  mentioned  that 
Halbert  Glendinning  had  conducted  him  to  the  dell,  in  which 
they  found  the  grass  bloody,  and  a  grave  newly  closed,  and 
told  how  the  youth  accused  himself  of  the  slaughter  of  Sir 
Piercie  Shafton,  the  sub-prior  looked  on  Edward  with  aston- 
ishment. 

" Didst  thou  not  say,  even  now,"  he  said,  "that  there  was 
no  vestige  of  a  grave  in  that  spot?" 

"  No  more  vestige  of  the  earth  having  been  removed  than 
if  the  turf  had  grown  there  since  the  days  of  Adam, "  replied 
Edward  Glendinning.  "It  is  true,"  he  added,  "that  the  ad- 
jacent grass  was  trampled  and  bloody." 

"These  are  delusions  of  the  Enemy,"  said  the  sub-prior, 
crossing  himself.    "  Christian  men  may  no  longer  doubt  of  it." 

"But  an  it  be  so,"  said  Warden,  "Christian  men  might 
better  guard  themselves  by  the  sword  of  prayer  than  by  the 
idle  form  of  a  cabalistical  spell." 

"  The  badge  of  our  salvation, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  can- 
not be  so  termed :  the  sign  of  the  cross  disarmeth  all  evil 
spirits." 

"  Ay,"  answered  Henry  Warden,  apt  and  armed  for  contro- 
versy, "  but  it  should  be  borne  in  the  heart,  not  scored  with 
the  fingers  in  the  air.  That  very  impassive  air,  through 
which  your  hand  passes,  shall  as  soon  bear  the  imprint  of 
your  action  as  the  external  action  shall  avail  the  fond  bigot 
who  substitutes  vain  motions  of  the  body,  idle  genuflections 
and  signs  of  the  cross,  for  the  living  and  heart-born  duties  of 
faith  and  good  works." 

"  I  pity  thee, "  said  the  sub-prior,  as  actively  ready  for  po- 
lemics as  himself — "  I  pity  thee,  Henry,  and  reply  not  to  thee. 
Thou  mayst  as  well  winnow  forth  and  measure  the  ocean  with 
a  sieve  as  mete  out  the  power  of  holy  words,  deeds,  and  signs 
by  the  erring  gage  of  thine  own  reason." 

"  Not  by  mine  own  reason  would  I  mete  them, "  said  War- 


390 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


den ;  "  but  by  His  Holy  Word,  that  unfading  and  unerring 
lamp  of  our  paths,  compared  to  which  human  reason  is  but 
as  a  glimmering  and  fading  taper,  and  your  boasted  tradi- 
tion only  a  misleading  wild-fire.  Show  me  your  Scripture 
warrant  for  ascribing  virtue  to  such  vain  signs  and  motions." 

"  I  offered  thee  a  fair  field  of  debate, "  said  the  sub-prior, 
"  which  thou  didst  refuse.  I  will  not  at  present  resume  the 
controversy. " 

"  Were  these  my  last  accents, 99  said  the  Eeformer,  "  and 
were  they  uttered  at  the  stake,  half -choked  with  smoke,  and 
as  the  fagots  kindled  into  a  blaze  around  me,  with  that  last 
utterance  I  would  testify  against  the  superstitious  devices  of 
Kome." 

The  sub-prior  suppressed  with  pain  the  controversial  an- 
swer which  arose  to  his  lips,  and  turning  to  Edward  Glendin- 
ning,  he  said :  "  There  could  be  now  no  doubt  that  his  mother 
ought  presently  to  be  informed  that  her  son  lived. " 

"  I  told  you  that  two  hours  since, "  said  Christie  of  the 
Clinthill,  "  an  you  would  have  believed  me.  But  it  seems 
you  are  more  willing  to  take  the  word  of  an  old  grey  sorner, 
whose  life  has  been  spent  in  pattering  heresy,  than  mine, 
though  I  never  rode  a  foray  in  my  life  without  duly  saying 
my  paternoster." 

"  Go,  then, "  said  Father  Eustace  to  Edward ;  "  let  thy  sor- 
rowing mother  know  that  her  son  is  restored  to  her  from  the 
grave,  like  the  child  of  the  widow  of  Zarephath ;  at  the  inter- 
cession, "  he  added,  looking  at  Henry  Warden,  "  of  the  blessed 
saint  whom  I  invoked  in  his  behalf." 

"Deceived  thyself,"  said  Warden,  instantly,  "thou  art  a 
deceiver  of  others.  It  was  no  dead  man,  no  creature  of  clay, 
whom  the  blessed  Tishbite  invoked,  when,  stung  by  the  re- 
proach of  the  Shunamite  woman,  he  prayed  that  her  son's 
soul  might  come  into  him  again." 

"  It  was  by  his  intercession,  however, 99  repeated  the  sub- 
prior;  "for  what  says  the  Vulgate?  Thus  is  it  written  :  u  Et 
exaudivit  Dominus  vocem  Helie ;  et  -reversa  est  anima  pueri 
intra  cum,  ct  revixit" ;  and  thinkest  thou  the  intercession  of 
a  gleaned  saint  is  more  feeble  than  when  he  walks  on  earth, 


THE  MONASTERY. 


391 


shrouded  in  a  tabernacle  of  clay,  and  seeing  but  with  the  eye 
of  flesh?" 

During  this  controversy,  Edward  Glendinning  appeared 
restless  and  impatient,  agitated  by  some  strong  internal  feel- 
ing, but  whether  of  joy,  grief,  or  expectation  his  countenance 
did  nob  expressly  declare.  He  took  now  the  unusual  freedom 
to  break  in  upon  the  discourse  of  the  sub-prior,  who,  notwith- 
standing his  resolution  to  the  contrary,  was  obviously  kindling 
in  the  spirit  of  controversy,  which  Edward  diverted  by  con- 
juring his  reverence  to  allow  him  to  speak  a  few  words  with 
him  in  private. 

"Kemove  the  prisoner,"  said  the  sub-prior  to  Christie; 
"  look  to  him  carefully  that  he  escape  not ;  but  for  thy  life 
do  him  no  injury." 

His  commands  being  obeyed,  Edward  and  the  monk  were 
left  alone,  when  the  sub-prior  thus  addressed  him : 

"  What  hath  come  over  thee,  Edward,  that  thy  eye  kindles 
so  wildly,  and  thy  cheek  is  thus  changing  from  scarlet  to 
pale?  Why  didst  thou  break  in  so  hastily  and  unadvisedly 
upon  the  argument  with  which  I  was  prostrating  yonder  here- 
tic? And  wherefore  dost  thou  not  tell  thy  mother  that  her 
son  is  restored  to  her  by  the  intercession,  as  Holy  Church 
well  warrants  us  to  believe,  of  blessed  St.  Benedict,  the  pa- 
tron of  our  order?  For  if  ever  my  prayers  were  put  forth  to 
him  with  zeal,  it  hath  been  in  behalf  of  this  house,  and  thine 
eyes  have  seen  the  result ;  go  tell  it  to  thy  mother. " 

"I  must  tell  her  then,"  said  Edward,  "that  if  she  has  re- 
gained one  son,  another  is  lost  to  her." 

"What  meanest  thou,  Edward?  what  language  is  this?" 
said  the  sub-prior. 

"Father,"  said  the  youth,  kneeling  down  to  him,  "my  sin 
and  my  shame  shall  be  told  thee,  and  thou  shalt  witness  my 
penance  with  thine  own  eyes." 

"  I  comprehend  thee  not, "  said  the  sub-prior.  "  What  canst 
thou  have  done  to  deserve  such  self -accusation?  Hast  thou 
too  listened,"  he  added,  knitting  his  brows,  "to  the  demon  of 
heresy,  ever  most  effectual  tempter  of  those  who,  like  yonder 
unhappy  man,  are  distinguished  by  their  love  of  knowledge?'- 


392 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"I  am  guiltless  in  that  matter,"  answered  Glendinning, 
"  nor  have  presumed  to  think  otherwise  than  thou,  my  kind 
father,  hast  taught  me,  and  than  the  church  allows." 

"  And  what  is  it  then,  my  son,"  said  the  sub-prior,  kindly, 
"  which  thus  afflicts  thy  conscience?  Speak  it  to  me,  that  I 
may  answer  thee  in  the  words  of  comfort;  for  the  church's 
mercy  is  great  to  those  obedient  children  who  doubt  not  hei 
power. " 

"My  confession  will  require  her  mercy,"  replied  Edward. 
"  My  brother  Halbert,  so  kind,  so  grave,  so  gentle,  who  spoke 
not,  thought  not,  acted  not  but  in  love  to  me,  whose  hand  had 
aided  me  in  every  difficulty,  whose  eye  watched  over  me  like 
the  eagle's  over  her  nestlings,  when  they  proved  their  first 
flight  from  the  eyrie — this  brother,  so  kind,  so  gentle,  so  af- 
fectionate— I  heard  of  his  sudden — his  bloody — his  violent 
death,  and  I  rejoiced;  I  heard  of  his  unexpected  restoration, 
and  I  sorrowed!" 

"Edward,"  said  the  father,  "  thou  art  beside  thyself;  what 
could  urge  thee  to  such  odious  ingratitude?  In  your  hurry  of 
spirits  you  have  mistaken  the  confused  tenor  of  your  feelings. 
Go,  my  son,  pray  and  compose  thy  mind;  we  will  speak  of 
this  another  time." 

"No,  father — no,"  said  Edward,  vehemently,  "now  or 
never!  I  will  find  the  means  to  tame  this  rebellious  heart 
of  mine,  or  I  will  tear  it  out  of  my  bosom.  Mistake  its  pas- 
sions! No,  father,  grief  can  ill  be  mistaken  for  joy.  All 
wept,  all  shrieked  around  me — my  mother — the  menials — she 
too,  the  cause  of  my  crime — all  wept ;  and  I — I  could  hardly 
disguise  my  brutal  and  insane  joy  under  the  appearance  of 
revenge.  'Brother,'  I  said,  'I  cannot  give  thee  tears,  but  I 
will  give  thee  blood.'  Yes,  father,  as  I  counted  hour  after 
hour,  while  I  kept  watch  upon  the  English  prisoner,  and  said, 
'I  am  an  hour  nearer  to  hope  and  to  happiness  '  " 

"I  understand  thee  not,  Edward,"  said  the  monk,  "nor  can 
I  conceive  in  what  way  thy  brother's  supposed  murder  should 
have  affected  thee  with  such  unnatural  joy.  Surely  the  sor- 
did desire  to  succeed  him  in  his  small  possessions  " 

"Perish  the  paltry  trash!"  said  Edward,  with  the  same 


THE  MONASTERY. 


393 


emotion.  "  No,  father,  it  was  rivalry — it  was  jealous  rage — 
it  was  the  love  of  Mary  Avenel,  that  rendered  me  the  unnatu- 
ral wretch  I  confess  myself!" 

"Of  Mary  Avenel!"  said  the  priest — "of  a  lady  so  high 
above  either  of  you  in  name  and  in  rank?  How  dared  H al- 
bert— how  dared  you,  presume  to  lift  your  eye  to  her  but  in 
honour  and  respect,  as  to  a  superior  of  another  degree  from 
yours?" 

"  When  did  love  wait  for  the  sanction  of  heraldry?"  replied 
Edward ;  "  and  in  what  but  a  line  of  dead  ancestors  was  Mary 
our  mother's  guest  and  foster-child,  different  from  us,  with 
whom  she  was  brought  up?  Enough,  we  loved — we  both 
loved  her!  But  the  passion  of  Halbert  was  requited.  He 
knew  it  not,  he  saw  it  not;  but  1  was  sharper-eyed.  I  saw 
that,  even  when  I  was  more  approved,  Halbert  was  more  be- 
loved. With  me  she  would  sit  for  hours  at  our  common  task, 
with  the  cold  simplicity  and  indifference  of  a  sister,  but  with 
Halbert  she  trusted  not  herself.  She  changed  colour,  she  was 
fluttered  when  he  approached  her ;  and  when  he  left  her  she 
was  sad,  pensive,  and  solitary.  I  bore  all  this — I  saw  my 
rival's  advancing  progress  in  her  affections — I  bore  it,  father, 
and  yet  I  hated  him  not — I  could  not  hate  him!" 

"And  well  for  thee  that  thou  didst  not,"  said  the  father; 
"wild  and  headstrong  as  thou  art,  wouldst  thou  hate  thy 
brother  for  partaking  in  thine  own  folly?" 

"  Father, "  replied  Edward,  "  the  world  esteems  thee  wise, 
and  holds  thy  knowledge  of  mankind  high ;  but  thy  question 
shows  that  thou  hast  never  loved.  It  was  by  an  effort  that  I 
saved  myself  from  hating  my  kind  and  affectionate  brother, 
who,  all  unsuspicious  of  my  rivalry,  was  perpetually  loading 
me  with  kindness.  Nay,  there  were  moods  of  my  mind  in 
which  I  could  return  that  kindness  for  a  time  with  energetic 
enthusiasm.  Never  did  I  feel  this  so  strongly  as  on  the  night 
which  parted  us.  But  I  could  not  help  rejoicing  when  he  was 
swept  from  my  track ;  could  not  help  sorrowing  when  he  was 
again  restored  to  be  a  stumbling-block  in  my  paths." 

"May  God  be  gracious  to  thee,  my  son!"  said  the  monk; 
"  this  is  an  awful  state  of  mind.    Even  in  such  evil  mood  did 


394 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  first  murderer  rise  up  against  his  brother,  because  Abel's 
was  the  more  acceptable  sacrifice. " 

"  I  will  wrestle  with  the  demon  which  has  haunted  me,  fa- 
ther," replied  the  youth,  firmly — "I  will  wrestle  with  him, 
and  I  will  subdue  him.  But  first  I  must  remove  from  the 
scenes  which  are  to  follow  here.  I  cannot  endure  that  I 
should  see  Mary  Avenel's  eyes  again  flash  with  joy  at  the 
restoration  of  her  lover.  It  were  a  sight  to  make  indeed  a 
second  Cain  of  me!  My  fierce,  turbid,  and  transitory  joy  dis- 
charged itself  in  a  thirst  to  commit  homicide,  and  how  can  I 
estimate  the  frenzy  of  my  despair?" 

"Madman!"  said  the  sub-prior,  "at  what  dreadful  crime 
does  thy  fury  drive?" 

"My  lot  is  determined,  father,"  said  Edward,  in  a  resolute 
tone ;  "  I  will  embrace  the  spiritual  state  which  you  have  so 
oft  recommended.  It  is  my  purpose  to  return  with  you  to  St. 
Mary's,  and,  with  the  permission  of  the  Holy  Virgin  and  of 
St.  Benedict,  to  offer  my  profession  to  the  abbot." 

"Not  now,  my  son,"  said  the  sub-prior — "not  in  this  dis- 
temperature  of  mind.  The  wise  and  good  accept  not  gifts 
which  are  made  in  heat  of  blood,  and  which  may  be  after  re- 
pented of;  and  shall  we  make  our  offerings  to  wisdom  and  to 
goodness  itself  with  less  of  solemn  resolution  and  deep  devo- 
tion of  mind  than  is  necessary  to  make  them  acceptable  to  our 
own  frail  companions  in  this  valley  of  darkness?  This  I  say 
to  thee,  my  son,  not  as  meaning  to  deter  thee  from  the  good 
path  thou  art  now  inclined  to  prefer,  but  that  thou  mayst 
make  thy  vocation  and  thine  election  sure." 

"There  are  actions,  father,"  returned  Edward,  "which 
brook  no  delay,  and  this  is  one.  It  must  be  done  this  very 
now,  or  it  may  never  be  done.  Let  me  go  with  you ;  let  me 
not  behold  the  return  of  Halbert  into  this  house.  Shame,  and 
the  sense  of  the  injustice  I  have  already  done  him,  will  join 
with  these  dreadful  passions  which  urged  me  to  do  him  yet  far- 
ther wrong.    Let  me  then  go  with  you." 

"  With  me,  my  son,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "thou  shalt  surely 
go;  but  our  rule,  as  well  as  reason  and  good  order,  require 
that  you  should  dwell  a  space  with  us  as  a  probationer,  or 


THE  MONASTERY. 


395 


novice,  before  taking  upon  thee  those  final  vows  which,  seques- 
tering thee  for  ever  from  the  world,  dedicate  thee  to  the  service 
of  Heaven," 

"  And  when  shall  we  set  forth,  father?"  said  the  youth,  as 
eagerly  as  if  the  journey  which  he  was  now  undertaking  led 
to  the  pleasures  of  a  summer  holiday. 

" Even  now,  if  thou  wilt,"  said  the  sub-prior,  yielding  to 
his  impetuosity;  "go,  then,  and  command  them  to  prepare 
for  our  departure.  Yet  stay,"  he  said,  as  Edward,  with  all 
the  awakened  enthusiasm  of  his  character,  hastened  from  his 
presence,  "come  hither,  my  son,  and  kneel  down." 

Edward  obeyed,  and  kneeled  down  before  him.  Notwith- 
standing his  slight  figure  and  thin  features,  the  sub-prior 
could,  from  the  energy  of  his  tone  and  the  earnestness  of  his 
devotional  manner,  impress  his  pupils  and  his  penitents  with 
no  ordinary  feelings  of  personal  reverence.  His  heart  always 
was,  as  well  as  seemed  to  be,  in  the  duty  which  he  was  im- 
mediately performing ;  and  the  spiritual  guide  who  thus  shows 
a  deep  conviction  of  the  importance  of  his  office  seldom  fails 
to  impress  a  similar  feeling  upon  his  hearers.  Upon  such  oc- 
casions as  the  present  his  puny  body  seemed  to  assume  more 
majestic  stature;  his  spare  and  emaciated  countenance  bore  a 
bolder,  loftier,  and  more  commanding  port;  his  voice,  always 
beautiful,  trembled  as  labouring  under  the  immediate  impulse 
of  the  Divinity ;  and  his  whole  demeanour  seemed  to  bespeak, 
not  the  mere  ordinary  man,  but  the  organ  of  the  church,  in 
which  she  had  vested  her  high  power  for  delivering  sinners 
from  their  load  of  iniquity, 

"Hast  thou,  my  fair  son,"  said  he,  "faithfully  recounted 
the  circumstances  which  have  thus  suddenly  determined  thee 
to  a  religious  life?" 

"The  sins  I  have  confessed,  my  father,"  answered  Edward; 
"  but  I  have  not  yet  told  of  a  strange  appearance  which,  act- 
ing on  my  mind,  hath,  I  think,  aided  to  determine  my  reso- 
lution." 

"Tell  it,  then,  now,"  returned  the  sub-prior;  "it  is  thy 
duty  to  leave  me  uninstructed  in  nought,  so  that  thereby  I 
may  understand  the  temptation  that  besets  thee." 


396 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  I  tell  it  with  unwillingness/'  said  Edward;  "  for  although, 
God  wot,  I  speak  but  the  mere  truth,  yet  even  while  my  tongue 
speaks  it  as  truth,  my  own  ears  receive  it  as  fable." 

"  Yet  say  the  whole,"  said  Father  Eustace;  "neither  fear 
rebuke  from  me,  seeing  I  may  know  reasons  for  receiving  as 
true  that  which  others  might  regard  as  fabulous." 

"Know,  then,  father,"  replied  Edward,  "that  betwixt  hope 
and  despair — and,  Heavens!  what  a  hope! — the  hope  to  find 
the  corpse  mangled  and  crushed  hastily  in  amongst  the  bloody 
clay  which  the  foot  of  the  scornful  victor  had  trod  down  upon 
my  good,  my  gentle,  my  courageous  brother — I  sped  to  the 
glen  called  Corrie-nan-Shian ;  but,  as  your  reverence  has  been 
already  informed,  neither  the  grave,  which  my  unhallowed 
wishes  had,  in  spite  of  my  better  self,  longed  to  see,  nor  any 
appearance  of  the  earth  having  been  opened,  was  visible  in 
the  solitary  spot  where  Martin  had,  at  morning  yesterday, 
seen  the  fatal  hillock.  You  know  our  dalesmen,  father.  The 
place  hath  an  evil  name,  and  this  deception  of  the  sight 
inclined  them  to  leave  it.  My  companions  became  affrighted, 
and  hastened  down  the  glen  as  men  caught  in  trespass.  My 
hopes  were  too  much  blighted,  my  mind  too  much  agitated, 
to  fear  either  the  living  or  the  dead.  I  descended  the  glen 
more  slowly  than  they,  often  looking  back,  and  not  ill  pleased 
with  the  poltroonery  of  my  companions,  which  left  me  to  my 
own  perplexed  and  moody  humour,  and  induced  them  to  hasten 
into  the  broader  dale.  They  were  already  out  of  sight  and 
lost  amongst  the  windings  of  the  glen,  when,  looking  back,  I 
saw  a  female  form  standing  beside  the  fountain  " 

"How,  my  fair  son?"  said  the  sub-prior,  "beware  you  jest 
not  with  your  present  situation !" 

"I  jest  not,  father,"  answered  the  youth;  "it  may  be  I 
shall  never  jest  again — surely  not  for  many  a  day.  T  saw,  I 
say,  the  form  of  a  female  clad  in  white,  such — such  as  the 
spirit  which  haunts  the  house  of  Avenel  is  supposed  to  be. 
Believe  me,  my  father,  for,  by  Heaven  and  earth,  I  say 
nought  but  what  I  saw  with  these  eyes!" 

"I  believe  thee,  my  son,"  said  the  monk;  "proceed  in  thy 
strange  story," 


THE  MONASTERY. 


397 


"The  apparition,"  said  Edward  Glendinning,  "sung,  and 
thus  ran  her  lay;  for,  strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  her 
words  abide  by  my  remembrance  as  if  they  had  been  sung  to 
me  from  infancy  upward : 

4  Thou  who  seek'st  my  fountain  lone, 
With  thoughts  and  hopes  thou  darest  not  own  ; 
Whose  heart  within  leap'd  wildly  glad 
When  most  his  brow  seem'd  dark  and  sad  ; 
Hie  thee  back,  thou  rind'st  not  here 
Corpse  or  coffin,  grave  or  bier. 
The  dead  alive  is  gone  and  fled  ; 
Go  thou,  and  join  the  living  dead  ! 

The  living  dead,  whose  sober  brow 

Oft  shrouds  such  thoughts  as  thou  hast  now, 

Whose  hearts  within  are  seldom  cured 

Of  passions  by  their  vows  abjured  ; 

Where,  under  sad  and  solemn  show, 

Vain  hopes  are  nursed,  wild  wishes  glow. 

Seek  the  convent's  vaulted  room, 

Prayer  and  vigil  be  thy  doom  ; 

Doff  the  green,  and  don  the  grey, 

To  the  cloister  hence  away  !  " 

"?Tis  a  wild  lay,"  said  the  sub-prior,  uand  chanted,  I  fear 
me,  with  no  good  end.  But  we  have  power  to  turn  the  machi- 
nations of  Satan  to  his  shame.  Edward,  thou  shalt  go  with 
me  as  thou  desirest;  thou  shalt  prove  the  life  for  which  I 
have  long  thought  thee  best  fitted :  thou  shalt  aid,  my  son, 
this  trembling  hand  of  mine  to  sustain  the  Holy  Ark,  which 
bold  unhallowed  men  press  rashly  forward  to  touch  and  to 
profane.    Wilt  thou  not  first  see  thy  mother?" 

"I  will  see  no  one,"  said  Edward,  hastily;  "I  will  risk 
nothing  that  may  shake  the  purpose  of  my  heart.  From  St. 
Mary's  they  shall  learn  my  destination — all  of  them  shall 
learn  it.  My  mother — Mary  Avenel — my  restored  and  happy 
brother — they  shall  all  know  that  Edward  lives  no  longer  to 
the  world  to  be  a  clog  on  their  happiness.  Mary  shall  no 
longer  need  to  constrain  her  looks  and  expressions  to  coldness 
because  am  I  nigh.    She  shall  no  longer  " 

"My  son,"  said  the  sub-prior,  interrupting  him,  "it  is  not 
by  looking  back  on  the  vanities  and  vexations  of  this  world 
that  we  fit  ourselves  for  the  discharge  of  duties  which  are  not 


398 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  it.  Go,  get  our  horses  ready,  and,  as  we  descend  the  glen 
together,  I  will  teach  thee  the  truths  through  which  the  fa- 
thers and  wise  men  of  old  had  that  precious  alchemy  which 
can  convert  suffering  into  happiness." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Now,  on  my  faith,  this  gear  is  all  entangled, 
Like  to  the  yarn-clue  of  the  drowsy  knitter, 
Dragg'd  by  the  frolic  kitten  through  the  cabin, 
While  the  good  dame  sits  nodding  o'er  the  fire ! 
Masters,  attend  ;  'twill  crave  some  skill  to  clear  it. 

Old  Play. 

Edward,  with  the  speed  of  one  who  doubts  the  steadiness 
of  his  own  resolution,  hastened  to  prepare  the  horses  for  their 
departure,  and  at  the  same  time  thanked  and  dismissed  the 
neighbours  who  had  come  to  his  assistance,  and  who  were  not 
a  little  surprised  both  at  the  suddenness  of  his  proposed  de- 
parture and  at  the  turn  affairs  had  taken. 

"  Here's  cold  hospitality,"  quoth  Dan  of  the  Howlethirst  to 
his  comrades ;  "  I  trow  the  Glendinnings  may  die  and  come 
alive  right  oft  ere  I  put  foot  in  stirrup  again  for  the  matter." 

Martin  soothed  them  by  placing  food  and  liquor  before 
them.  They  ate  sullenly,  however,  and  departed  in  bad  hu- 
mour. 

The  joyful  news  that  Halbert  Glendinning  lived  was  quickly 
communicated  through  the  sorrowing  family.  The  mother 
wept  and  thanked  Heaven  alternately ;  until,  her  habits  of 
domestic  economy  awakening  as  her  feelings  became  calmer, 
she  observed :  "  It  would  be  an  unco  task  to  mend  the  yetts, 
and  what  were  they  to  do  while  they  were  broken  in  that 
fashion?    At  open  doors  dogs  come  in." 

Tibb  remarked:  "  She  aye  thought  Halbert  was  ower  gleg 
at  his  weapon  to  be  killed  sae  easily  by  ony  Sir  Piercie  of 
them  a\  They  might  say  of  these  Southrons  as  they  liked; 
but  they  had  not  the  pith  and  wind  of  a  canny  Scot  when  it 
came  to  close  grips." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


399 


On  Mary  Avenel  the  impression  was  inconceivably  deeper. 
She  had  but  newly  learned  to  pray,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that 
her  prayers  had  been  instantly  answered:  that  the  compassion 
of  Heaven,  which  she  had  learned  to  implore  in  the  words  of 
Scripture,  had  descended  upon  her  after  a  manner  almost 
miraculous,  and  recalled  the  dead  from  the  grave  at  the  sound 
of  her  lamentations.  There  was  a  dangerous  degree  of  enthu- 
siasm in  this  strain  of  feeling,  but  it  originated  in  the  purest 
devotion. 

A  silken  and  embroidered  muffler,  one  of  the  few  articles  of 
more  costly  attire  which  she  possessed,  was  devoted  to  the 
purpose  of  wrapping  up  and  concealing  the  sacred  volume, 
which  henceforth  she  was  to  regard  as  her  chiefest  treasure, 
lamenting  only  that,  for  want  of  a  fitting  interpreter,  much 
must  remain  to  her  a  book  closed  and  a  fountain  sealed.  She 
was  unaware  of  the  yet  greater  danger  she  incurred,  of  putting 
an  imperfect  or  even  false  sense  upon  some  of  the  doctrines 
which  appeared  most  comprehensible.  But  Heaven  had  pro- 
vided against  both  these  hazards. 

While  Edward  was  preparing  the  horses,  Christie  of  the 
Clinthill  again  solicited  his  orders  respecting  the  Reformed 
preacher,  Henry  Warden,  and  again  the  worthy  monk  la- 
boured to  reconcile  in  his  own  mind  the  compassion  and  es- 
teem which,  almost  in  spite  of  him,  he  could  not  help  feeling 
for  his  former  companion  with  the  duty  which  he  owed  to  the 
church.  The  unexpected  resolution  of  Edward  had  removed, 
he  thought,  the  chief  objection  to  his  being  left  at  Glendearg. 

"If  I  carry  this  Wellwood,  or  Warden,  to  the  monastery," 
he  thought,  "he  must  die — die  in  his  heresy — perish  body 
and  soul.  And  though  such  a  measure  was  once  thought  ad- 
visable, to  strike  terror  into  the  heretics,  yet  such  is  now 
their  daily-increasing  strength  that  it  may  rather  rouse  them 
to  fury  and  to  revenge.  True,  he  refuses  to  pledge  himself 
to  abstain  from  sowing  his  tares  among  the  wheat;  but  the 
ground  here  is  too  barren  to  receive  them.  I  fear  not  his 
making  impression  on  these  poor  women,  the  vassals  of  the 
church,  and.  bred  up  in  due  obedience  to  her  behests.  The 
keen,  searching,  inquiring,  and  bold  disposition  of  Edward 


400 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


might  have  afforded  fuel  to  the  fire;  but  that  is  removed, 
and  there  is  nothing  left  which  the  flame  may  catch  to. 
Thus  shall  he  have  no  power  to  spread  his  evil  doctrines 
abroad,  and  yet  his  life  shall  be  preserved,  and  it  may  be  his 
soul  rescued  as  a  prey  from  the  fowler's  net.  I  will  myself 
contend  with  him  in  argument ;  for  when  we  studied  in  com- 
mon I  yielded  not  to  him,  and  surely  the  cause  for  which  I 
struggle  will  support  me,  were  I  yet  more  weak  than  I  deem 
myself.  Were  this  man  reclaimed  from  his  errors,  an  hun- 
dredfold more  advantage  would  arise  to  the  church  from  his 
spiritual  regeneration  than  from  his  temporal  death." 

Having  finished  these  meditations,  in  which  there  was  at 
once  goodness  of  disposition  and  narrowness  of  principle,  a 
considerable  portion  of  self -opinion,  and  no  small  degree  of 
self-delusion,  the  sub-prior  commanded  the  prisoner  to  be 
brought  into  his  presence. 

"  Henry,"  he  said,  "  whatever  a  rigid  sense  of  duty  may  de- 
mand of  me,  ancient  friendship  and  Christian  compassion  for- 
bid me  to  lead  thee  to  assured  death.  Thou  wert  wont  to  be 
generous,  though  stern  and  stubborn  in  thy  resolves ;  let  not 
thy  sense  of  what  thine  own  thoughts  term  duty  draw  thee 
farther  than  mine  have  done.  Remember,  that  every  sheep 
whom  thou  shalt  here  lead  astray  from  the  fold  will  be  de- 
manded in  time  and  through  eternity  of  him  who  hath  left 
thee  the  liberty  of  doing  such  evil.  I  ask  no  engagement  of 
thee,  save  that  thou  remain  a  prisoner  on  thy  word  at  this 
tower,  and  wilt  appear  when  summoned." 

"  Thou  hast  found  an  invention  to  bind  my  hands, "  replied 
the  preacher,  "  more  sure  than  would  have  been  the  heaviest 
shackles  in  the  prison  of  thy  convent.  I  will  not  rashly  do 
what  may  endanger  thee  with  thy  unhappy  superiors,  and  I 
will  be  the  more  cautious  because,  if  we  had  farther  oppor- 
tunity of  conference,  I  trust  thine  own  soul  may  yet  be  res- 
cued as  a  brand  from  the  burning,  and  that,  casting  from  thee 
the  livery  of  Anti-Christ,  that  trader  in  human  sins  and  human 
souls,  I  may  yet  assist  thee  to  lay  hold  on  the  Rock  of  Ages." 

The  sub-prior  heard  the  sentiment,  so  similar  to  that  which 
had  occurred  to  himself,  with  the  same  kindling  feelings  with 


THE  MONASTERY. 


401 


which  the  game-cock  hears  and  replies  to  the  challenge  of  his 
rival. 

"I  bless  God  and  Our  Lady,"  said  he,  drawing  himself  up, 
"  that  my  faith  is  already  anchored  on  that  Eock  on  which  St. 
Peter  founded  his  church." 

"  It  is  a  perversion  of  the  text,"  said  the  eager  Henry  War- 
den, "  grounded  on  a  vain  play  upon  words — a  most  idle  paro- 
nomasia." 

The  controversy  would  have  been  rekindled,  and  in  all  prob- 
ability— for  what  can  ensure  the  good  temper  and  moderation 
of  polemics? — might  have  ended  in  the  preacher's  being  trans- 
ported a  captive  to  the  monastery,  had  not  Christie  of  the  Clint- 
hill  observed  that  it  was  growing  late,  and  that  he,  having  to 
descend  the  glen,  which  had  no  good  reputation,  cared  not 
greatly  for  travelling  there  after  sunset.  The  sub-prior, 
therefore,  stifled  his  desire  of  argument,  and  again  telling  the 
preacher  that  he  trusted  to  his  gratitude  and  generosity,  he 
bade  him  farewell. 

"Be  assured,  mine  old  friend,"  replied  Warden,  "that  no 
willing  act  of  mine  shall  be  to  thy  prejudice.  But  if  my 
Master  shall  place  work  before  me,  I  must  obey  God  rather 
than  man." 

These  two  men,  both  excellent  from  natural  disposition  and 
acquired  knowledge,  had  more  points  of  similarity  than  they 
themselves  would  have  admitted.  In  truth,  the  chief  distinc- 
tion betwixt  them  was  that  the  Catholic,  defending  a  religion 
which  afforded  little  interest  to  the  feelings,  had,  in  his  de- 
votion to  the  cause  he  espoused,  more  of  the  head  than  of 
the  heart,  and  was  politic,  cautious,  and  artful;  while  the 
Protestant,  acting  under  the  strong  impulse  of  more  lately 
adopted  conviction,  and  feeling,  as  he  justly  might,  a  more 
animated  confidence  in  his  cause,  was  enthusiastic,  eager,  and 
precipitate  in  his  desire  to  advance  it.  The  priest  would  have 
been  contented  to  defend,  the  preacher  aspired  to  conquer; 
and,  of  course,  the  impulse  by  which  the  latter  was  governed 
was  more  active  and  more  decisive.  They  could  not  part 
from  each  other  without  a  second  pressure  of  hands,  and  each 
looked  in  the  face  of  his  old  companion,  as  he  bade  him  adieu, 
26 


402 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


with  a  countenance  strongly  expressive  of  sorrow,  affection, 
and  pity. 

Father  Eustace  then  explained  briefly  to  Dame  Glendinning 
that  this  person  was  to  be  her  guest  for  some  days,  forbidding 
her  and  her  whole  household,  under  high  spiritual  censures, 
to  hold  any  conversation  with  him  on  religious  subjects,  but 
commanding  her  to  attend  to  his  wants  in  all  other  particulars. 

"  May  Our  Lady  forgive  me,  reverend  father, "  said  Dame 
Glendinning,  somewhat  dismayed  at  this  intelligence,  "  but  I 
must  needs  say  that  ower  mony  guests  have  been  the  ruin  of 
mony  a  house,  and  I  trow  they  will  bring  down  Glendearg. 
First  came  the  Lady  of  Avenel — her  soul  be  at  rest! — she 
meant  nae  ill,  but  she  brought  with  her  as  mony  bogles  and 
fairies  as  hae  kept  the  house  in  care  ever  since,  sae  that  we 
hae  been  living  as  it  were  in  a  dream.  And  then  came  that 
English  knight,  if  it  please  you,  and  if  he  hasna  killed  my 
son  outright,  he  has  chased  him  aff  the  gate,  and  it  may  be 
lang  eneugh  ere  I  see  him  again — for  bye  the  damage  done  to 
outer  door  and  inner  door.  And  now  your  reverence  has  given 
me  the  charge  of  a  heretic,  who,  it  is  like,  may  bring  the  great 
horned  devil  himself  down  upon  us  all ;  and  they  say  that  it  is 
neither  door  nor  window  will  serve  him,  but  he  will  take  away 
the  side  of  the  auld  tower  along  with  him.  Nevertheless,  rev- 
erend father,  your  pleasure  is  doubtless  to  be  done  to  our 
power. " 

"Go  to,  woman,"  said  the  sub-prior;  "send  for  workmen 
from  the  clachan,  and  let  them  charge  the  expense  of  their  re- 
pairs to  the  community,  and  I  will  give  the  treasurer  warrant 
to  allow  them.  Moreover,  in  settling  the  rental-mails  and  feu- 
duties,  thou  shalt  have  allowance  for  the  trouble  and  charges  to 
which  thou  art  now  put ;  and  I  will  cause  strict  search  to  be 
made  after  thy  son." 

The  dame  courtesied  deep  and  low  at  each  favourable  ex- 
pression; and  when  the  sub-prior  had  done  speaking,  she 
added  her  farther  hope,  that  the  sub-prior  would  hold  some 
communing  with  her  gossip  the  miller  concerning  the  fate  of 
his  daughter,  and  expound  to  him  that  the  chance  had  by  no 
means  happened  through  any  negligence  on  her  part. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


403 


"I  sair  doubt  me,  father/'  she  said,  "whether  Mysie  finds 
her  way  back  to  the  mill  in  a  hurry ;  but  it  was  all  her  father's 
own  fault  that  let  her  run  lamping  about  the  country,  riding 
on  bare-backed  naigs,  and  never  settling  to  do  a  turn  of  wark 
within  doors,  unless  it  were  to  dress  dainties  at  dinner-time 
for  his  ain  kyte." 

"  You  remind  me,  dame,  of  another  matter  of  urgency, "  said 
Father  Eustace;  "and,  God  knows,  too  many  of  them  press 
on  me  at  this  moment.  This  English  knight  must  be  sought 
out,  and  explanation  given  to  him  of  these  most  strange 
chances.  The  giddy  girl  must  also  be  recovered.  If  she  hath 
suffered  in  reputation  by  this  unhappy  mistake,  I  will  not 
hold  myself  innocent  of  the  disgrace.  Yet  how  to  find  them 
out  I  know  not." 

"  So  please  you,"  said  Christie  of  the  Clinthill,  "  I  am  will- 
ing to  take  the  chase,  and  bring  them  back  by  fair  means  or 
foul;  for  though  you  have  always  looked  as  black  as  night  at 
me,  whenever  we  have  forgathered,  yet  I  have  not  forgotten 
that,  had  it  not  been  for  you,  'my  neck  would  have  kenn'd  the 
weight  of  my  four  quarters. '  If  any  man  can  track  the  tread 
of  them,  I  will  say  in  the  face  of  both  Merse  and  Teviotdale, 
and  take  the  Forest  to  boot,  I  am  that  man.  But  first  I  have 
matters  to  treat  of  on  my  master's  score,  if  you  will  permit  me 
to  ride  down  the  glen  with  you." 

"Nay,  but,  my  friend,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "thou  shouldst 
remember  I  have  but  slender  cause  to  trust  thee  for  a  com- 
panion through  a  place  so  solitary." 

"Tush!  tush!"  said  the  jack-man,  "fear  me  not;  I  had  the 
worst  too  surely  to  begin  that  sport  again.  Besides,  have  I 
not  said  a  dozen  of  times  I  owe  you  a  life?  and  when  I  owe  a 
man  either  a  good  turn  or  a  bad  I  never  fail  to  pay  it  sooner 
or  later.  Moreover,  beshrew  me  if  I  care  to  go  alone  down 
the  glen,  or  even  with  my  troopers,  who  are,  every  loon  of 
them,  as  much  devil's  bairns  as  myself;  whereas,  if  your  ref- 
erence, since  that  is  the  word,  take  beads  and  psalter,  and  I 
come  along  with  jack  and  spear,  you  will  make  the  devils  take 
the  air,  and  I  will  make  all  human  enemies  take  the  earth." 

Edward  here  entered,  and  told  his  reverence  that  his  horse 


404 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


was  prepared.  At  this  instant  his  eye  caught  his  mother's, 
and  the  resolution  which  he  had  so  strongly  formed  was  stag- 
gered when  he  recollected  the  necessity  of  bidding  her  farewell. 
The  sub-prior  saw  his  embarrassment,  and  came  to  his  relief. 

"  Dame, "  said  he,  "  I  forgot  to  mention  that  your  son  Edward 
goes  with  me  to  St.  Mary's,  and  will  not  return  for  two  or  three 
days." 

"  You'll  be  wishing  to  help  him  to  recover  his  brother? 
May  the  saints  reward  your  kindness!" 

The  sub-prior  returned  the  benediction,  which,  in  this  in- 
stance, he  had  not  very  well  deserved,  and  he  and  Edward  set 
forth  on  their  route.  They  were  presently  followed  by  Chris- 
tie, who  came  up  with  his  followers  at  such  a  speedy  pace  as 
intimated  sufficiently  that  his  wish  to  obtain  spiritual  convoy 
through  the  glen  was  extremely  sincere.  He  had,  however, 
other  matters  to  stimulate  his  speed,  for  he  was  desirous  to 
communicate  to  the  sub-prior  a  message  from  his  master  Ju- 
lian, connected  with  the  delivery  of  the  prisoner  Warden ;  and 
having  requested  the  sub-prior  to  ride  with  him  a  few  yards 
before  Edward  and  the  troopers  of  his  own  party,  he  thus 
addressed  him,  sometimes  interrupting  his  discourse  in  a  man- 
ner testifying  that  his  fear  of  supernatural  beings  was  not 
altogether  lulled  to  rest  by  his  confidence  in  the  sanctity  of 
his  fellow-traveller. 

"  My  master, "  said  the  rider,  "  deemed  he  had  sent  you  an 
acceptable  gift  in  that  old  heretic  preacher ;  but  it  seems,  from 
the  slight  care  you  have  taken  of  him,  that  you  make  small 
account  of  the  boon." 

"  1ST  ay,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "  do  not  thus  judge  of  it.  The 
community  must  account  highly  of  the  service,  and  will  re- 
ward it  to  thy  master  in  goodly  fashion.  But  this  man  and  I 
are  old  friends,  and  I  trust  to  bring  him  back  from  the  paths 
of  perdition." 

"1ST ay,"  said  the  moss-trooper,  "when  I  saw  you  shake 
hands  at  the  beginning,  I  counted  that  you  would  fight  it  all 
out  in  love  and  honour,  and  that  there  would  be  no  extreme 
dealings  betwixt  ye;  however,  it  is  all  one  to  my  master. 
St.  Mary!  what  call  you  yon,  sir  monk?" 


THE  MONASTERY. 


405 


"  The  branch  of  a  willow  streaming  across  the  path  betwixt 
ns  and  the  sky." 

"  Beshrew  me,"  said  Christie,  "  if  it  looked  not  like  a  man's 
hand  holding  a  sword.  But  touching  my  master,  he,  like  a 
prudent  man,  hath  kept  himself  aloof  in  these  broken  times, 
until  he  could  see  with  precision  what  footing  he  was  to  stand 
upon.  Right  tempting  offers  he  hath  had  from  the  Lords  of 
Congregation,  whom  you  call  heretics ;  and  at  one  time  he  was 
minded,  to  be  plain  with  you,  to  have  taken  their  way ;  for 
he  was  assured  that  the  Lord  James  was  coming  this  road  at 
the  head  of  a  round  body  of  cavalry.  And  accordingly  Lord 
James  did  so  far  reckon  upon  him  that  he  sent  this  man  War- 
den, or  whatsoever  be  his  name,  to  my  master's  protection,  as 
an  assured  friend ;  and,  moreover,  with  tidings  that  he  him- 
self was  marching  hitherward  at  the  head  of  a  strong  body  of 
horse." 

"Now,  Our  Lady  forefend!"  said  the  sub-prior. 

"Amen!"  answered  Christie,  in  some  trepidation,  "did 
your  reverence  see  aught?" 

"Nothing  whatever,"  replied  the  monk;  "it  was  thy  tale 
which  wrested  from  me  that  exclamation." 

"And  it  was  some  cause,"  replied  he  of  the  Clinthill,  "  for 
if  Lord  James  should  come  hither,  your  halidome  would  smoke 
for  it.  But  be  of  good  cheer,  that  expedition  is  ended  before 
it  was  begun.  The  Baron  of  Avenel  had  sure  news  that  Lord 
James  has  been  fain  to  march  westward  with  his  merry  men, 
to  protect  Lord  Semple  against  Cassilis  and  the  Kennedies. 
By  my  faith,  it  will  cost  him  a  brush ;  for  wot  ye  what  they 
say  of  that  name : 

'Twixt  Wigton  and  the  town  of  Ayr, 
Portpatrick  and  the  cruives  of  Cree, 

No  man  need  think  for  to  bide  there, 
Unless  he  court  St.  Kennedie." 

"Then,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "the  Lord  James's  purpose  of 
coming  southwards  being  broken  cost  this  person,  Henry 
Warden,  a  cold  reception  at  Avenel  Castle." 

"It  would  not  have  been  altogether  so  rough  a  one,"  said 
the  moss-trooper,  "  for  my  master  was  in  heavy  thought  what 


406 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


to  do  in  these  unsettled  times,  and  would  scarce  have  hazarded 
misusing  a  man  sent  to  him  by  so  terrible  a  leader  as  the  Lord 
James;  but,  to  speak  the  truth,  some  busy  devil  tempted  the 
old  man  to  meddle  with  my  master's  Christian  liberty  of 
hand-fasting  with  Catherine  of  Newport.  So  that  broke  the 
wand  of  peace  between  them,  and  now  ye  may  have  my 
master,  and  all  the  force  he  can  make,  at  your  devotion,  for 
Lord  James  never  forgave  wrong  done  to  him ;  and  if  he  come 
by  the  upper  hand  he  will  have  Julian's  head  if  there  were 
never  another  of  the  name,  as  it  is  like  there  is  not,  excepting 
the  bit  slip  of  a  lassie  yonder.  And  now  I  have  told  you 
more  of  my  master's  affairs  than  he  would  thank  me  for;  but 
you  have  done  me  a  frank  turn  once,  and  I  may  need  one  at 
your  hands  again." 

"Thy  frankness,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "shall  surely  advan- 
tage thee ;  for  much  it  concerns  the  church  in  these  broken 
times  to  know  the  purposes  and  motives  of  those  around  us. 
But  what  is  it  that  thy  master  expects  from  us  in  reward  of 
good  service ;  for  I  esteem  him  one  of  those  who  are  not  will- 
ing to  work  without  their  hire?" 

"Nay,  that  I  can  tell  you  flatly;  for  Lord  James  had 
promised  him,  in  case  he  would  be  of  his  faction  in  these 
parts,  an  easy  tack  of  the  teind-sheaves  of  his  own  barony  of 
Avenel,  together  with  the  lands  of  Cranberry  Moor,  which  lie 
intersected  with  his  own.  And  he  will  look  for  no  less  at 
your  hand." 

"  But  there  is  Old  Gilbert  of  Cranberry  Moor, "  said  the 
sub-prior,  "what  are  we  to  make  of  him?  The  heretic  Lord 
James  may  take  on  him  to  dispone  upon  the  goods  and  lands 
of  the  halidome  at  his  pleasure,  because,  doubtless,  but  for 
the  protection  of  God,  and  the  baronage  which  yet  remain 
faithful  to  their  creed,  he  may  despoil  us  of  them  by  force; 
but  while  they  are  the  property  of  the  community  we  may 
not  take  steadings  from  ancient  and  faithful  vassals  to  gratify 
the  covetousness  of  those  who  serve  God  only  from  the  lucre 
of  gain." 

"  By  the  mass,"  said  Christie,  "  it  is  well  talking,  sir  priest; 
but  when  ye  consider  that  Gilbert  has  but  two  half-starved 


THE  MONASTERY. 


407 


cowardly  peasants  to  follow  him,  and  only  an  auld  jaded  aver 
to  ride  upon,  fitter  for  the  plough  than  for  manly  service; 
and  that  the  Baron  of  Avenel  never  rides  with  fewer  than  ten 
jack-men  at  his  back,  and  oftener  with  fifty,  bodin  in  all  that 
effeirs  to  war  as  if  they  were  to  do  battle  for  a  kingdom,  and 
mounted  on  nags  that  nicker  at  the  clash  of  a  sword  as  if  it 
were  the  clank  of  the  lid  of  a  corn-chest — I  say,  when  ye  have 
computed  all  this,  you  may  guess  which  course  will  best  serve 
your  monastery." 

"  Friend, "  said  the  monk,  "  I  would  willingly  purchase  thy 
master's  assistance  on  his  own  terms,  since  times  leave  us  no 
better  means  of  defence  against  the  sacrilegious  spoliation  of 
heresy ;  but  to  take  from  a  poor  man  his  patrimony  " 

"For  that  matter,"  said  the  rider,  "his  seat  would  scarce 
be  a  soft  one  if  my  master  thought  that  Gilbert's  inter- 
ests stood  betwixt  him  and  what  he  wisnes.  The  halidome 
has  land  enough,  and  Gilbert  may  be  quartered  else- 
where. " 

"We  will  consider  the  possibility  of  so  disposing  the 
matter,"  said  the  monk,  "  and  will  expect  in  consequence  your 
master's  most  active  assistance,  with  all  the  followers  he  can 
make,  to  join  in  the  defence  of  the  halidome  against  any  force 
by  which  it  may  be  threatened." 

"  A  man's  hand  and  a  mailed  glove  on  that,"  1  said  the  jack- 
man.  "They  call  us  marauders,  thieves,  and  what  not;  but 
the  side  we  take  we  hold  by.  And  I  will  be  blythe  when  my 
Baron  comes  to  a  point  which  side  he  will  take,  for  the  castle 
is  a  kind  of  hell — Our  Lady  forgive  me  for  naming  such  a 
word  in  this  place! — while  he  is  in  his  mood,  studying  how 
he  may  best  advantage  himself.  And  now,  Heaven  be  praised ! 
we  are  in  the  open  valley,  and  I  may  swear  a  round  oath, 
should  aught  happen  to  provoke  it." 

"My  friend,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "thou  hast  little  merit  in 
abstaining  from  oaths  or  blasphemy  if  it  be  only  out  of  fear 
of  evil  spirits." 

"Nay,  I  am  not  quite  a  church  vassal  yet,"  said  the  jack- 
man,  "  and  if  you  link  the  curb  too  tight  on  a  young  horse,  I 
1  See  Good  Faith  of  the  Borderers,    Note  21. 


408 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


promise  you  he  will  rear.  Why,  it  is  much  for  me  to  forbear 
old  customs  on  any  account  whatever. " 

The  night  being  fine,  they  forded  the  river  at  the  spot  where 
the  sacristan  met  with  his  unhappy  encounter  with  the  spirit. 
As  soon  as  they  arrived  at  the  gate  of  the  monastery,  the 
porter  in  waiting  eagerly  exclaimed :  "  Reverend  father,  the 
lord  abbot  is  most  anxious  for  your  presence." 

"  Let  these  strangers  be  carried  to  the  great  hall, 5;  said  the 
sub-prior,  "  and  be  treated  with  the  best  by  the  cellarer ;  re- 
minding them,  however,  of  that  modesty  and  decency  of  con- 
duct which  becometh  guests  in  a  house  like  this." 

"  But  the  lord  abbot  demands  you  instantly,  my  venerable 
brother, "  said  Father  Philip,  arriving  in  great  haste.  "  I 
have  not  seen  him  more  discouraged  or  desolate  of  counsel 
since  the  field  of  Pinkie  Cleuch  was  stricken." 

"I  come,  my  good  brother — I  come,"  said  Father  Eustace. 
"  I  pray  thee,  good  brother,  let  this  youth,  Edward  Glendin- 
ning,  be  conveyed  to  the  chamber  of  the  novices,  and  placed 
under  their  instructor.  God  hath  touched  his  heart,  and  he 
proposeth  laying  aside  the  vanities  of  the  world  to  become  a 
brother  of  our  holy  order ;  which,  if  his  good  parts  be  matched 
with  fitting  docility  and  humility,  he  may  one  day  live  to 
adorn." 

"  My  very  venerable  brother, "  exclaimed  old  Father  Nicolas, 
who  came  hobbling  with  a  third  summons  to  the  sub-prior,  "  I 
pray  thee  to  hasten  to  our  worshipful  lord  abbot.  The  holy 
patroness  be  with  us!  never  saw  I  abbot  of  the  house  of  fet. 
Mary's  in  such  consternation;  and  yet  I  remember  me  welJ 
when  Father  Ingelram  had  the  news  of  Flodden  field." 

"  I  come — I  come,  venerable  brother, "  said  Father  Eustace. 
And  having  repeatedly  ejaculated,  "I  come!"  he  at  last  went 
to  the  abbot  in  good  earnest. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


409 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

It  is  not  texts  will  do  it.    Church  artillery 

Are  silenced  soon  by  real  ordnance, 

And  canons  are  but  vain  opposed  to  cannon. 

Go,  coin  your  crosier,  melt  your  church  plate  down, 

Bid  the  starved  soldier  banquet  in  your  halls, 

And  quaff  your  long-saved  hogsheads.    Turn  them  out 

Thus  primed  with  your  good  cheer,  to  guard  your  wall, 

And  they  will  venture  for't. 

Old  Play. 

The  abbot  received  his  counsellor  with  a  tremulous  eager- 
ness of  welcome  which  announced  to  the  sub-prior  an  extreme 
agitation  of  spirits  and  the  utmost  need  of  good  counsel. 
There  was  neither  mazer-dish  nor  standing-cup  upon  the  little 
table  at  the  elbow  of  his  huge  chair  of  state ;  his  beads  alone 
lay  there,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  been  telling  them  in 
his  extremity  of  distress.  Beside  the  beads  was  placed  the 
mitre  of  the  abbot,  of  an  antique  form  and  blazing  with  pre- 
cious stones,  and  the  rich  and  highly-embossed  crosier  rested 
against  the  same  table. 

The  sacristan  and  old  Father  Nicolas  had  followed  the 
sub-prior  into  the  abbot's  apartment,  perhaps  with  the 
hope  of  learning  something  of  the  important  matter  which 
seemed  to  be  in  hand.  They  were  not  mistaken;  for, 
after  having  ushered  in  the  sub-prior,  and  being  themselves 
in  the  act  of  retiring,  the  abbot  made  them  a  signal  to 
remain. 

"My  brethren,"  he  said,  "it  is  well  known  to  you  with 
what  painful  zeal  we  have  overseen  the  weighty  affairs  of 
this  house  committed  to  our  unworthy  hand ;  your  bread  hath 
been  given  to  you,  and  your  water  hath  been  sure;  I  have  not 
wasted  the  revenues  of  the  convent  on  vain  pleasures,  as  hunt- 
ing or  hawking,  or  in  change  of  rich  cope  or  alb,  or  in  feasting 
idle  bards  and  jesters,  saving  those  who,  according  to  old 
wont,  were  received  in  time  of  Christmas  and  Easter.  Nei- 
ther have  I  enriched  either  mine  own  relations  nor  strange 
women  at  the  expense  of  the  patrimony." 


410 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"There  hath  not  been  such  a  lord  abbot,"  said  Father 
Nicolas,  "  to  my  knowledge,  since  the  days  of  Abbot  Ingelram, 
who  " 

At  that  portentous  word,  which  always  preluded'  a  long 
story,  the  abbot  broke  in. 

"May  God  have  mercy  on  his  soul! — we  talk  not  of  him 
now.  What  I  would  know  of  ye,  my  brethren,  is,  whether 
I  have,  in  your  mind,  faithfully  discharged  the  duties  of  mine 
office?" 

"  There  has  never  been  subject  of  complaint,"  answered  the 
sub-prior. 

The  sacristan,  more  diffuse,  enumerated  the  various  acts  of 
indulgence  and  kindness  which  the  mild  government  of  Abbot 
Boniface  had  conferred  on  the  brotherhood  of  St.  Mary's — the 
indulg entice,  the  gratias,  the  biberes,  the  weekly  mess  of  boiled 
almonds,  the  enlarged  accommodation  of  the  refectory,  the 
better  arrangement  of  the  cellarage,  the  improvement  of  the 
revenue  of  the  monastery,  the  diminution  of  the  privations  of 
the  brethren." 

"  You  might  have  added,  my  brother,"  said  the  abbot,  lis- 
tening with  melancholy  acquiescence  to  the  detail  of  his  own 
merits,  "  that  I  caused  to  be  built  that  curious  screen  which 
secureth  the  cloisters  from  the  northeast  wind.  But  all  these 
things  avail  nothing.  As  we  read  in  holy  Maccabee,  Capta 
est  eivitas  per  voluntatem  Dei,  It  hath  cost  me  no  little 
thought,  no  common  toil,  to  keep  these  weighty  matters  in 
such  order  as  you  have  seen  them;  there  was  both  barn  and 
binn  to  be  kept  full;  infirmary,  dormitory,  guest-hall,  and 
refectory  to  be  looked  to ;  processions  to  be  made,  confessions 
to  be  heard,  strangers  to  be  entertained,  Venice  to  be  granted 
or  refused;  and  I  warrant  me,  when  every  one  of  you  was 
asleep  in  your  cell,  the  abbot  hath  lain  awake  for  a  full  hour 
by  the  bell,  thinking  how  these  matters  might  be  ordered 
seemly  and  suitably. " 

"  May  we  ask,  reverend  my  lord,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "  what 
additional  care  has  now  been  thrown  upon  you,  since  your  dis- 
course seems  to  point  that  way?" 

"  Marry,  this  it  is,"  said  the  abbot.    "  The  talk  is  not  now 


c 


THE  MONASTERY.  411 

of  biberes  or  of  caritas,  or  of  boiled  almonds,1  but  of  an  Eng- 
lish band  coming  against  us  from  Hexham,  commanded  by  Sir 
John  Foster ;  nor  is  it  of  the  screening  us  from  the  east  wind, 
but  how  to  escape  Lord  James  Stuart,  who  cometh  to  lay 
waste  and  destroy  with  his  heretic  soldiers." 

"I  thought  that  purpose  had  been  broken  by  the  feud  be- 
tween Semple  and  the  Kennedies,"  said  the  sub-prior,  hastily. 

"  They  have  accorded  that  matter  at  the  expense  of  the 
church  as  usual,"  said  the  abbot:  "the  Earl  of  Cassilis  is  to 
have  the  teind-sheaves  of  his  lands,  which  were  given  to  the 
house  of  Crossraguel,  and  he  has  stricken  hands  with  Stuart, 
who  is  now  called  Murray.  Principes  convenerunt  in  unum 
adversus  Dominum.    There  are  the  letters." 

The  sub-prior  took  the  letters,  which  had  come  by  an  ex- 
press messenger  from  the  Primate  of  Scotland,  who  still 
laboured  to  uphold  the  tottering  fabric  of  the  system  under 
which  he  was  at  length  buried,  and,  stepping  towards  the 
lamp,  read  them  with  an  air  of  deep  and  settled  attention ;  the 
sacristan  and  Father  Nicolas  looked  as  helplessly  at  each  other 
as  the  denizens  of  the  poultry-yard  when  the  hawk  soars  over 
it.  The  abbot  seemed  bowed  down  with  the  extremity  of  sor- 
rowful apprehension,  but  kept  his  eye  timorously  fixed  on  the 
sub-prior,  as  if  striving  to  catch  some  comfort  from  the  ex- 
pression of  his  countenance.  When  at  length  he  beheld  that, 
after  a  second  intent  perusal  of  the  letters,  he  remained  still 
silent  and  full  of  thought,  he  asked  him  in  an  anxious  tone : 
"What  is  to  be  done?" 

"Our  duty  must  be  done,"  answered  the  sub-prior,  "and 
the  rest  is  in  the  hands  of  God. " 

"Our  duty — our  duty!"  answered  the  abbot,  impatiently; 
"  doubtless  we  are  to  do  our  duty;  but  what  is  that  duty?  or 
how  will  it  serve  us?  Wrill  bell,  book,  and  candle  drive  back 
the  English  heretics?  or  will  Murray  care  for  psalms  and 
antiphonars?  or  can  I  fight  for  the  halidome  like  Judas  Mac- 
cabeus against  those  profane  Mcanors?  or  send  the  sacristan 
against  this  new  Holofernes,  to  bring  back  his  head  in  a 
basket?" 

1  See  Indulgences  of  the  Monks.   Note  22. 


412 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  True,  my  lord  abbot,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "  we  cannot  fight 
with  carnal  weapons,  it  is  alike  contrary  to  our  habit  and 
vow ;  but  we  can  die  for  our  convent  and  for  our  order.  Be- 
sides, we  can  arm  those  who  will  and  can  fight.  The  English 
are  but  few  in  number,  trusting,  as  it  would  seem,  that  they 
will  be  joined  by  Murray,  whose  march  has  been  interrupted. 
If  Foster,  with  his  Cumberland  and  Hexham  bandits,  ventures 
to  march  into  Scotland  to  pillage  and  despoil  our  house,  we 
will  levy  our  vassals,  and,  I  trust,  shall  be  found  strong 
enough  to  give  him  battle." 

"  In  the  blessed  name  of  Our  Lady, "  said  the  abbot,  "  think 
you  that  I  am  Petrus  Eremita,  to  go  forth  the  leader  of  an 
host?" 

"Nay,"  said  the  sub-prior,  "let  some  man  skilled  in  war 
lead  our  people :  there  is  Julian  A venel,  an  approved  soldier. " 

"  But  a  scoffer,  a  debauched  person,  and,  in  brief,  a  man  of 
Belial,"  quoth  the  abbot. 

"  Still,"*  said  the  monk,  "we  must  use  his  ministry  in,  that 
to  which  he  has  been  brought  up.  We  can  guerdon  him 
richly,  and  indeed  I  already  know  the  price  of  his  service. 
The  English,  it  is  expected,  will  presently  set  forth,  hoping 
here  to  seize  upon  Piercie  Shafton,  whose  refuge  being 
taken  with  us,  they  make  the  pretext  of  this  unheard-of 
inroad. " 

"Is  it  even  so?"  said  the  abbot;  "I  never  judged  that  his 
body  of  satin  and  his  brain  of  feathers  boded  us  much  good." 

"Yet  we  must  have  his  assistance,  if  possible,"  said  the 
sub-prior;  "he  may  interest  in  our  behalf  the  great  Piercie, 
of  whose  friendship  he  boasts,  and  that  good  and  faithful  lord 
may  break  Foster's  purpose.  I  will  despatch  the  jack-man 
after  him  with  all  speed.  Chiefly,  however,  I  trust  to  the 
military  spirit  of  the  land,  which  will  not  suffer  peace  to  be 
easily  broken  on  the  frontier.  Credit  me,  my  lord,  it  will 
bring  to  our  side  the  hands  of  many  whose  hearts  may  have 
gone  astray  after  strange  doctrines.  The  great  chiefs  and 
barons  will  be  ashamed  to  let  the  vassals  of  peaceful  monks 
fight  unaided  against  the  old  enemies  of  Scotland. " 

"It  may  be,"  said  the  abbot,  "that  Foster  will  wait  for 


THE  MONASTERY.  413 

Murray,  whose  purpose  hitherwarcl  is  but  delayed  for  a  short 
space.*' 

"  By  the  rood,  he  will  not,"'  said  the  sub-prior;  "  we  know 
this  Sir  John  Foster — a  pestilent  heretic,  he  will  long  to  de- 
stroy the  church ;  born  a  Borderer,  he  will  thirst  to  plunder 
her  of  her  wealth ;  a  Border  warden,  he  will  be  eager  to  ride 
in  Scotland.  There  are  too  many  causes  to  urge  him  on.  If 
he  joins  with  Murray,  he  will  have  at  best  but  an  auxiliary's 
share  of  the  spoil;  if  he  comes  hither  before  him,  he  will 
reckon  on  the  whole  harvest  of  depredation  as  his  own. 
Julian  Avenel  also  has,  as  I  have  heard,  some  spite  against 
Sir  John  Foster;  they  will  fight,  when  they  meet,  with  double 
determination.  Sacristan,  send  for  our  bailiff.  Where  is  the 
roll  of  fencible  men  liable  to  do  suit  and  service  to  the  hali- 
dome?  Send  off  to  the  Baron  of  Meigallot ;  he  can  raise  three- 
score horse  and  better.  Say  to  him  the  monastery  will  com- 
pound with  him  for  the  customs  of  his  bridge,  which  have 
been  in  controversy,  if  he  will  show  himself  a  friend  at  such 
a  point.  And  now,  my  lord,  let  us  compute  our  possible 
numbers  and  those  of  the  enemy,  that  human  blood  be  not 
spilled  in  vain.    Let  us  therefore  calculate — — " 

"My  brain  is  dizzied  with  the  emergency,"  said  the  poor 
abbot.  "  I  am  not,  I  think,  more  a  coward  than  others,  so 
far  as  my  own  person  is  concerned;  but  speak  to  me  of  march- 
ing and  collecting  soldiers,  and  calculating  forces,  and  you 
may  as  well  tell  of  it  to  the  youngest  novice  of  a  nunnery. 
But  my  resolution  is  taken.  Brethren,"  he  said,  rising  up, 
and  coming  forward  with  that  dignity  which  his  comely 
person  enabled  him  to  assume,  "  hear  for  the  last  time  the 
voice  of  your  Abbot  Boniface.  I  have  done  for  you  the  best 
that  I  could;  in  quieter  times  I  had  perhaps  done  better,  for 
it  was  for  quiet  that  I  sought  the  cloister,  which  has  been  to 
me  a  place  of  turmoil,  as  much  as  if  I  had  sate  in  the  receipt 
of  custom,  or  ridden  forth  as  leader  of  an  armed  host.  But 
now  matters  turn  worse  and  worse,  and  I,  as  I  grow  old,  am 
less  able  to  struggle  with  them.  Also,  it  becomes  me  not  to 
hold  a  place  whereof  the  duties,  through  my  default  or  mis- 
fortune, may  be  but  imperfectly  filled  by  me.    Wherefore  I 


414 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


have  resolved  to  demit  this  mine  high  office,  so  that  the  order 

of  these  matters  may  presently  devolve  upon  Father  Eustatius 
here  present,  our  well-beloved  sub-prior;  and  I  now  rejoice 
that  he  hath  not  been  provided  according  to  his  merits  else- 
where, seeing  that  I  well  hope  he  will  succeed  to  the  mitre 
and  staff  which  it  is  my  present  purpose  to  lay  down." 

44  In  the  name  of  Our  Lady,  do  nothing  hastily,  my  lord!" 
said  Father  Nicolas.  "  I  do  remember  that  when  the  worthy 
Abbot  Ingelram,  being  in  his  ninetieth  year — for  I  warrant 
you  he  could  remember  when  Benedict  the  Thirteenth  was 
deposed — and  being  ill  at  ease  and  bed-rid,  the  brethren 
rounded  in  his  ear  that  he  were  better  resign  his  office.  And 
what  said  he,  being  a  pleasant  man?  marry,  that  while  he 
could  crook  his  little  finger  he  would  keep  hold  of  the  crosier 
with  it." 

The  sacristan  also  strongly  remonstrated  against  the  resolu- 
tion of  his  superior,  and  set  down  the  insufficiency  he  pleaded 
to  the  native  modesty  of  his  disposition.  The  abbot  listened 
in  downcast  silence ;  even  flattery  could  not  win  his  ear. 

Father  Eustace  took  a  nobler  tone  with  his  disconcerted  and 
dejected  superior.  "  My  lord  abbot,"  he  said,  u  if  I  have  been 
silent  concerning  the  virtues  with  which  you  have  governed 
this  house,  do  not  think  that  I  am  unaware  of  them.  I  know 
that  no  man  ever  brought  to  your  high  office  a  more  sincere 
wish  to  do  well  to  all  mankind ;  and  if  your  rule  has  not  been 
marked  with  the  bold  lines  which  sometimes  distinguished 
your  spiritual  predecessors,  their  faults  have  equally  been 
strangers  to  your  character." 

"I  did  not  believe,"  said  the  abbot,  turning  his  looks  to 
Father  Eustace  with  some  surprise,  "  that  you,  father,  of  all 
men,  would  have  done  me  this  justice." 

"  In  your  absence, "  said  the  sub-prior,  "  I  have  even  done 
it  more  fully.  Do  not  lose  the  good  opinion  which  all  men 
entertain  of  you  by  renouncing  your  office  when  your  care  is 
most  needed." 

"  But,  my  brother,"  said  the  abbot,  "  I  leave  a  more  able  in 

my  place." 

"  That  you  do  not,"  said  Eustace ;  "  because  it  is  not  neces- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


415 


sary  you  should  resign  in  order  to  possess  the  use  of  whatever 
experience  or  talent  I  may  be  accounted  master  of.  I  have 
been  Jong  enough  in  this  profession  to  know  that  the  individual 
qualities  which  any  of  us  may  have  are  not  his  own,  but  the 
property  of  the  community,  and  only  so  far  useful  when  they 
promote  the  general  advantage.  If  you  care  not  in  person, 
my  lord,  to  deal  with  this  troublesome  matter,  let  me  implore 
you  to  go  instantly  to  Edinburgh,  and  make  what  friends  you 
can  in  our  behalf,  while  I  in  your  absence  will,  as  sub- prior, 
do  my  duty  in  defence  of  the  halidome.  If  I  succeed,  may 
the  honour  and  praise  be  yours,  and  if  I  fail,  let  the  disgrace 
and  shame  be  mine  own." 

The  abbot  mused  for  a  space,  and  then  replied :  "  No,  Father 
Eustatius,  you  shall  not  conquer  me  by  your  generosity.  In 
times  like  these,  this  house  must  have  a  stronger  pilotage 
than  my  weak  hands  afford ;  and  he  who  steers  the  vessel  must 
be  chief  of  the  crew.  Shame  were  it  to  accept  the  praise  of 
other  men's  labours;  and,  in  my  poor  mind,  all  the  praise 
which  can  be  bestowed  on  him  who  undertakes  a  task  so 
perilous  and  perplexing  is  a  meed  beneath  his  merits.  Mis- 
fortune to  him  would  deprive  him  of  an  iota  of  it!  Assume, 
therefore,  your  authority  to-night,  and  proceed  in  the  prepara- 
tions you  judge  necessary.  Let  the  chapter  be  summoned  to- 
morrow after  we  have  heard  mass,  and  all  shall  be  ordered  as 
I  have  told  you.  Benedicite,  my  brethren! — peace  be  with 
you!  May  the  new  abbot-expectant  sleep  as  sound  as  he  who 
is  about  to  resign  his  mitre." 

They  retired,  affected  even  to  tears.  The  good  abbot  had 
shown  a  point  of  his  character  to  which  they  were  strangers. 
Even  Father  Eustace  had  held  his  spiritual  superior  hither- 
to as  a  good-humoured,  indolent,  self-indulgent  man,  whose 
chief  merit  was  the  absence  of  gross  faults ;  so  that  this  sacri- 
fice of  power  to  a  sense  of  duty,  even  if  a  little  alloyed  by  the 
meaner  motives  of  fear  and  apprehended  difficulties,  raised 
him  considerably  in  the  sub-prior's  estimation.  He  even  felt 
an  aversion  to  profit  by  the  resignation  of  the  Abbot  Boni- 
face, and  in  a  manner  to  rise  on  his  ruins;  but  this  sentiment 
did  not  long  contend  with  those  which  led  him  to  recollect 


416 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


higher  considerations.  It  could  not  be  denied  that  Boniface 
was  entirely  unfit  for  his  situation  in  the  present  crisis ;  and 
the  sub-prior  felt  that  he  himself,  acting  merely  as  a  delegate, 
could  not  well  take  the  decisive  measures  which  the  time  re- 
quired; the  weal  of  the  community  therefore  demanded  his 
elevation.  If,  besides,  there  crept  in  a  feeling  of  an  high 
dignity  obtained,  and  the  native  exultation  of  a  haughty  spirit 
called  to  contend  with  the  imminent  dangers  attached  to  a 
post  of  such  distinction,  these  sentiments  were  so  cunningly 
blended  and  amalgamated  with  others  of  a  more  disinterest- 
ed nature  that,  as  the  sub-prior  himself  was  unconscious  of 
their  agency,  we,  who  have  a  regard  for  him;  are  not  solici- 
tous to  detect  it. 

The  abbot  elect  carried  himself  with  more  dignity  than 
formerly,  when  giving  such  directions  as  the  pressing  circum- 
stances of  the  times  required;  and]  those  who  approached  him 
could  perceive  an  unusual  kindling  of  his  falcon  eye  and  an 
unusual  flush  upon  his  pale  and  faded  cheek.  With  briefness 
and  precision  he  wrote  and  dictated  various  letters  to  different 
barons,  acquainting  them  with  the  meditated  invasion  of  the 
halidome  by  the  English,  and  conjuring  them  to  lend  aid  and 
assistance  as  in  a  common  cause.  The  temptation  of  advan- 
tage was  held  out  to  those  whom  he  judged  less  sensible  of  the 
cause  of  honour,  and  all  were  urged  by  the  motives  of  patriot- 
ism and  ancient  animosity  to  the  English.  The  time  had  been 
when  no  such  exhortations  would  have  been  necessary.  But 
so  essential  was  Elizabeth's  aid  to  the  Reformed  party  in 
Scotland,  and  so  strong  was  that  party  almost  everywhere, 
that  there  was  reason  to  believe  a  great  many  would  observe 
neutrality  on  the  present  occasion,  even  if  they  did  not  go  the 
length  of  uniting  with  the  English  against  the  Catholics. 

When  Eather  Eustace  considered  the  number  of  the  imme- 
diate vassals  of  the  church  whose  aid  he  might  legally  com- 
mand, his  heart  sunk  at  the  thoughts  of  ranking  them  under 
the  banner  of  the  fierce  and  profligate  Julian  Avenel. 

"Were  the  young  enthusiast  Halbert  Glendinning  to  be 
found,"  thought  Father  Eustace  in  his  anxiety,  "  T  would  have 
risked  the  battle  under  his  leading,  young  as  he  is,  and  with 


THE  MONASTERY. 


417 


better  hope  of  God's  blessing.  But  the  bailiff  is  now  too  in- 
firm, nor  know  I  a  chief  of  name  whom  I  might  trust  in  this 
important  matter  better  than  this  Avenel."  He  touched  a 
bell  which  stood  on  the  table,  and  commanded  Christie  of  the 
Clinthill  to  be  brought  before  him.  "  Thou  owest  me  a  life," 
said  he  to  that  person  on  his  entrance,  "  and  I  may  do  thee 
another  good  turn  if  thou  be'st  sincere  with  me." 

Christie  had  already  drained  two  standing-cups  of  wine, 
which  would,  on  another  occasion,  have  added  to  the  in- 
solence of  his  familiarity.  But  at  present  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  augmented  dignity  of  manner  of  Father  Eustace 
which  imposed  a  restraint  on  him.  Yet  his  answers  partook 
of  his  usual  character  of  undaunted  assurance.  He  professed 
himself  willing  to  return  a  true  answer  to  all  inquiries. 

"  Has  the  Baron,  so  styled,  of  Avenel  any  friendship  with 
Sir  John  Foster,  warden  of  the  West  Marches  of  England?" 

u  Such  friendship  as  is  between  the  wild-cat  and  the  ter- 
rier, ■ J  replied  the  rider. 

4k  Will  he  do  battle  with  him  should  they  meet?" 

"As  surely,"  answered  Christie,  "as  ever  cock  fought  on 
Shrovetide  even." 

"And  would  he  fight  with  Foster  in  the  church's  quarrel?" 

"  On  any  quarrel,  or  upon  no  quarrel  whatever,"  replied  the 
jack-man. 

"  We  will  then  write  to  him,  letting  him  know  that  if,  upon 
occasion  of  an  apprehended  incursion  by  Sir  John  Foster,  he 
will  agree  to  join  his  force  with  ours,  he  shall  lead  our  men, 
and  be  gratified  for  doing  so  to  the  extent  of  his  wish.  Yet 
one  word  more.  Thou  didst  say  thou  couldst  find  out  where 
the  English  knight  Piercie  Shafton  has  this  day  fled  to?" 

"  That  I  can,  and  bring  him  back  too,  by  fair  means  or 
force,  as  best  likes  your  reverence." 

"No  force  must  be  used  upon  him.  Within  what  time  wilt 
thou  find  him  out?" 

"  Within  thirty  hours,  so  he  have  not  crossed  the  Lothian 
firth.  If  it  is  to  do  you  a  pleasure,  1  will  set  off  directly,  and 
wind  him  as  a  sleuth-dog  tracks  the  moss-trooper,'"  answered 
Christie. 

27 


418 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Bring  him  hither,  then,  and  thou  wilt  deserve  good  at 
our  hands,  which  I  may  soon  have  free  means  of  bestowing 
on  thee." 

"  Thanks  to  your  reverence,  I  put  myself  in  your  reverence's 
hands.  We  of  the  spear  and  snaffle  walk  something  recklessly 
through  life ;  but  if  a  man  were  worse  than  he  is,  your  rever- 
ence knows  he  must  live,  and  that's  not  to  be  done  without 
shifting,  I  trow." 

"Peace,  sir,  and  begone  on  thine  errand;  thou  shalt  have  a 
letter  from  us  to  Sir  Piercie." 

Christie  made  two  steps  towards  the  door;  then  turning 
back  and  hesitating,  like  one  who  would  make  an  impertinent 
pleasantry  if  he  dared,  he  asked  what  he  was  to  do  with  the 
wench,  Mysie  Happer,  whom  the  Southron  knight  had  car- 
ried off  with  him. 

"  Am  I  to  bring  her  hither,  please  your  reverence?" 

"Hither,  you  malapert  knave?"  said  the  churchman ;  "re- 
member you  to  whom  you  speak?" 

"  No  offence  meant, "  replied  Christie ;  "  but  if  such  is  not 
your  will,  I  would  carry  her  to  Avenel  Castle,  where  a  well- 
favoured  wench  was  never  unwelcome." 

"  Bring  the  unfortunate  girl  to  her  father's,  and  break  no 
scurril  jests  here,"  said  the  sub-prior.  "  See  that  thou  guide 
her  in  all  safety  and  honour." 

"In  safety,  surely,"  said  the  rider,  "and  in  such  honour  as 
her  outbreak  has  left  her.  I  bid  your  reverence  farewell,  I 
must  be  on  horse  before  cock-crow. " 

"  What,  in  the  dark !  how  knowest  thou  which  way  to  go  ?" 

"  I  tracked  the  knight's  horse-tread  as  far  as  near  to  the 
ford,  as  we  rode  along  together,"  said  Christie,  "and  I  ob- 
served the  track  turn  to  the  northward.  He  is  for  Edinburgh, 
I  will  warrant  you ;  so  soon  as  daylight  comes  I  will  be  on  the 
road  again.  It  is  a  kenspeckle  hoof -mark,  for  the  shoe  was 
made  by  old  Eckie  of  Canonbie — I  would  swear  to  the  curve 
of  the  cawker. "    So  saying,  he  departed. 

"Hateful  necessity,"  said  Father  Eustace,  looking  after 
him,  "that  obliges  us  to  use  such  implements  as  these!  But, 
assailed  as  we  are  on  all  sides,  and  by  all  conditions  of  men. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


419 


•what  alternative  is  left  us?  But  now  let  me  to  my  most 
needful  task." 

The  abbot  elect  accordingly  sate  down  to  write  letters,  ar- 
range orders,  and  take  upon  him  the  whole  charge  of  an  insti- 
tution which  tottered  to  its  fall,  with  the  same  spirit  of  proud 
and  devoted  fortitude  wherewith  the  commander  of  a  fortress, 
reduced  nearly  to  the  last  extremity,  calculates  what  means 
remain  to  him  to  protract  the  fatal  hour  of  successful  storm. 
In  the  mean  while  Abbot  Boniface,  having  given  a  few  natural 
sighs  to  the  downfall  of  the  pre-eminence  he  had  so  long  en- 
joyed amongst  his  brethren,  fell  fast  asleep,  leaving  the  whole 
cares  and  toils  of  office  to  his  assistant  and  successor. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

And  when  he  came  to  broken  briggs, 

He  slack' d  his  bow  and  swam  ; 
And  when  he  came  to  grass  growing, 

Set  down  his  feet  and  ran. 

Gil  Morrice. 

We  return  to  Halbert  Glen  dinning,  who,  as  our  readers  may 
remember,  took  the  highroad  to  Edinburgh.  His  intercourse 
with  the  preacher,  Henry  Warden,  from  whom  he  received 
a  letter  at  the  moment  of  his  deliverance,  had  been  so  brief 
that  he  had  not  even  learned  the  name  of  the  nobleman  to 
whose  care  he  was  recommended.  Something  like  a  name 
had  been  spoken  indeed,  but  he  had  only  comprehended  that 
he  was  to  meet  the  chief  advancing  towards  the  south,  at  the 
head  of  a  party  of  horse.  When  day  dawned  on  his  journey, 
he  was  in  the  same  uncertainty.  A  better  scholar  would  have 
been  informed  by  the  address  of  the  letter,  but  Halbert  had 
not  so  far  profited  by  Father  Eustace's  lessons  as  to  be  able  to 
decipher  it.  His  mother-wit  taught  him  that  he  must  not,  in 
such  uncertain  times,  be  too  hasty  in  asking  information  of 
any  one;  and  when,  after  a  long  day's  journey,  night  sur- 
prised him  near  a  little  village,  he  began  to  be  dubious  and 
anxious  concerning  the  issue  of  his  journey. 


420 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


In  a  poor  country,  hospitality  is  generally  exercised  freely, 
and  Halbert,  when  he  requested  a  night's  quarters,  did  noth- 
ing either  degrading  or  extraordinary,  ilie  old  woman  to 
whom  he  made  this  request  granted  it  the  more  readily  that 
she  thought  she  saw  some  resemblance  between  Halbert  and 
her  son  Saunders,  who  had  been  killed  in  one  of  the  frays  so 
common  in  the  time.  It  is  true,  Saunders  was  a  short,  square- 
made  fellow,  with  red  hair  and  a  freckled  lace,  and  somewhat 
bandy-legged,  whereas  the  stranger  was  of  a  brown  com- 
plexion, tall,  and  remarkably  well  made.  Nevertheless,  the 
widow  was  clear  that  there  existed  a  general  resemblance  be- 
twixt her  guest  and  Saunders,  and  kindly  pressed  him  to 
share  of  her  evening  cheer.  A  pedlar,  a  man  of  about  forty 
years  old,  was  also  her  guest,  who  talked  with  great  feeling 
of  the  misery  of  pursuing  such  a  profession  as  his  in  the  time 
of  war  and  tumult. 

"  We  think  much  of  knights  and  soldiers, "  said  he ;  "  but 
the  pedder-coffe  who  travels  the  land  has  need  of  more  cour- 
age than  them  all.  I  am  sure  he  maun  face  mair  risk,  God 
help  him.  Here  have  I  come  this  length,  trusting  the  godly 
Earl  of  Murray  would  be  on  his  march  to  the  Borders,  for  he 
was  to  have  guestened  with  the  Baron  of  Avenel ;  and  instead 
of  that  comes  news  that  he  has  gone  westlandways  about 
some  tuilzie  in  Ayrshire.  And  what  to  do  I  wot  not;  for  if 
I  go  to  the  south  without  a  safeguard,  the  next  bonny  rider  I 
meet  might  ease  me  of  sack  and  pack,  and  maybe  of  my  life 
to  boot ;  and  then,  if  I  try  to  strike  across  the  moors,  I  may 
be  as  ill  off  before  I  can  join  myself  to  that  good  lord's  com- 
pany.,? 

No  one  was  quicker  at  catching  a  hint  than  Halbert  Glen 
dinning.  He  said  he  himself  had  a  desire  to  go  westward 
The  pedlar  looked  at  him  with  a  very  doubtful  air,  when  the 
old  dame,  who  perhaps  thought  her  young  guest  resembled 
the  umquhile  Saunders  not  only  in  his  looks,  but  in  a  certai 
pretty  turn  to  slight-of-hand,  which  the  defunct  was  suppose 
to  have  possessed,  tipped  him  the  wink,  and  assured  the  ped 
lar  he  need  have  no  doubt  that  her  young  cousin  was  a  tru 
man. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


421 


"Cousin!"  said  the  pedlar,  "I  thought  you  said  this  youth 
had  been  a  stranger." 

"Ill  hearing  makes  ill  rehearsing,"  said  the  landlady;  "he 
is  a  stranger  to  me  by  eyesight,  but  that  does  not  make  him  a 
stranger  to  me  by  blood,  more  especially  seeing  his  likeness  to 
my  son  Saunders,  poor  bairn." 

The  pedlar's  scruples  and  jealousies  being  thus  removed,  or 
at  least  silenced,  the  travellers  agreed  that  they  would  proceed 
in  company  together  the  next  morning  by  daybreak,  the  ped- 
lar acting  as  a  guide  to  Glendinning,  and  the  youth  as  a  guard 
to  the  pedlar,  until  they  should  fall  in  with  Murray's  detach- 
ment of  horse.  It  would  appear  that  the  landlady  never 
doubted  what  was  to  be  the  event  of  this  compact,  for,  taking 
Glendinning  aside,  she  charged  him  "  to  be  moderate  with  the 
puir  body,  but  at  all  events  not  to  forget  to  take  a  piece  of 
black  say,  to  make  the  auld  wife  a  new  rokelay."  Halbert 
laughed,  and  took  his  leave. 

It  did  not  a  little  appal  the  pedlar,  when,  in  the  midst  of  a 
black  heath,  the  young  man  told  him  the  nature  of  the  com- 
mission with  which  their  hostess  had  charged  him.  He  took 
heart,  however,  upon  seeing  the  open,  frank,  and  friendly 
demeanour  of  the  youth,  and  vented  his  exclamations  on  the 
ungrateful  old  traitress.  "  I  gave  her/1  he  said,  "yestere'en, 
nae  farther  gane,  a  yard  of  that  very  black  say,  to  make  her  a 
couvre-chef ;  but  I  see  it  is  ill  done  to  teach  the  cat  the  way 
to  the  kirn." 

Thus  set  at  ease  on  the  intentions  of  his  companion  (for  in 
those  happy  days-  the  worst  was  always  to  be  expected  from  a 
stranger),  the  pedlar  acted  as  Halbert' s  guide  over  moss  and 
moor,  over  hill  and  many  a  dale,  in  such  a  direction  as  might 
best  lead  them  towards  the  route  of  Murray's  party.  At 
length  they  arrived  upon  the  side  of  an  eminence,  which  com- 
manded a  distant  prospect  over  a  tract  of  savage  and  desolate 
moorland,  marshy  and  waste — an  alternate  change  of  shingly 
hill  and  level  morass,  only  varied  by  blue  stagnant  pools  of 
water.  A  road  scarcely  marked  winded  like  a  serpent  through 
this  wilderness,  and  the  pedlar,  pointing  to  it,  said :  "  The  road 
from  Edinburgh  to  Glasgow.    Here  we  must  wait,  and  if  Mur- 


422 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ray  and  his  train  be  not  already  passed  by,  we  shall  soon  see 
trace  of  them,  unless  some  new  purpose  shall  have  altered 
their  resolution ;  for  in  these  blessed  days  no  man,  were  he 
the  nearest  the  throne,  as  the  Earl  of  Murray  may  be,  knows 
when  he  lays  his  head  on  his  pillow  at  night  where  it  is  to  lie 
upon  the  following  even. " 

They  paused  accordingly,  and  sat  down,  the  pedlar  cautious- 
ly using  for  a  seat  the  box  which  contained  his  treasures,  and 
not  concealing  from  his  companion  that  he  wore  under  his 
cloak  a  pistolet  hanging  at  his  belt  in  case  of  need.  He  was 
courteous,  however,  and  offered  Halbert  a  share  of  the  provi- 
sions which  he  carried  about  him  for  refreshment.  They  were 
of  the  coarsest  kind — oat-bread  baked  into  cakes,  oatmeal 
slaked  with  cold  water,  an  onion  or  two,  and  a  morsel  of 
smoked  ham,  completed  the  feast.  But  such  as  it  was,  no 
Scotsman  of  the  time,  had  his  rank  been  much  higher  than 
that  of  Glendinning,  would  have  refused  to  share  in  it,  espe- 
cially as  the  pedlar  produced,  with  a  mysterious  air,  a  tup's 
horn,  which  he  carried  slung  from  his  shoulders,  and  which, 
when  its  contents  were  examined,  produced  to  each  party  a 
clam-shellful  of  excellent  usquebaugh — a  liquor  strange  to 
Halbert,  for  the  strong  waters  known  in  the  south  of  Scotland 
came  from  France,  and  in  fact  such  were  but  rarely  used. 
The  pedlar  recommended  it  as  excellent,  said  he  had  procured 
it  in  his  last  visit  to  the  braes  of  Doune,  where  he  had  securely 
traded  under  the  safe-conduct  of  the  Laird  of  Buchanan.  He 
also  set  an  example  to  Halbert,  by  devoutly  emptying  the  cup 
"to  the  speedy  downfall  of  Anti-Christ." 

Their  conviviality  was  scarce  ended  ere  a  rising  dust  was 
seen  on  the  road  of  which  they  commanded  the  prospect,  and 
half  a  score  of  horsemen  were  dimly  descried  advancing  at 
considerable  speed,  their  casques  glancing,  and  the  points  of 
their  spears  twinkling,  as  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  sun. 

"  These, ".  said  the  pedlar,  "  must  be  the  outscourers  of  Mur- 
ray's party;  let  us  lie  down  in  the  peat-hag  and  keep  our- 
selves out  of  sight." 

"  And  why  so?"  said  Halbert;  "let  us  rather  go  down  and 
make  a  signal  to  them." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


423 


"  God  forbid!"  replied  the  pedlar;  "  do  you  ken  so  ill  the 
customs  of  our  Scottish  nation?  That  plump  of  spears  that 
are  spurring  on  so  fast  are  doubtless  commanded  by  some  wild 
kinsman  of  Morton,  or  some  such  daring  fear-nothing  as  neither 
regards  God  nor  man.  It  is  their  business,  if  they  meet  with 
any  enemies,  to  pick  quarrels  and  clear  the  way  of  them ;  and 
the  chief  knows  nothing  of  what  happens,  coming  up  with  his 
more  discreet  and  moderate  friends,  it  may  be  a  full  mile  in 
the  rear.  Were  we  to  go  near  these  lads  of  the  laird's  belt, 
your  letter  would  do  you  little  good,  and  my  pack  would  do 
me  muckle  black  ill ;  they  would  tirl  every  steek  of  claithes 
from  our  backs,  fling  us  into  a  moss-hag  with  a  stone  at  our 
heels,  naked  as  the  hour  that  brought  us  into  this  cumbered 
and  sinful  world,  and  neither  Murray  nor  any  other  man  ever 
the  wiser.  But  if  he  did  come  to  ken  of  it,  what  might  he 
help  it? — it  would  be  accounted  a  mere  mistake,  and  there 
were  all  the  moan  made.  Oh,  credit  me,  youth,  that,  when 
men  draw  cold  steel  on  each  other  in  their  native  country, 
they  neither  can  nor  may  dwell  deeply  on  the  offences  of  those 
whose  swords  are  useful  to  them. " 

They  suffered,  therefore,  the  vanguard,  as  it  might  be 
termed,  of  the  Earl  of  Murray's  host  to  pass  forward;  and  it 
was  not  long  until  a  denser  cloud  of  dust  began  to  arise  to  the 
northward. 

"  Now, 99  said  the  pedlar,  "  let  us  hurry  down  the  hill ;  for  to 
tell  the  truth, "  said  he,  dragging  Halbert  along  earnestly,  "  a 
Scottish  noble's  march  is  like  a  serpent :  the  head  is  furnished 
with  fangs,  and  the  tail  hath  its  sting ;  the  only  harmless  point 
of  access  is  the  main  body." 

"  I  will  hasten  as  fast  as  you, 99  said  the  youth ;  "  but  tell  me 
why  the  rearward  of  such  an  army  should  be  as  dangerous  as 
the  van?" 

"  Because,  as  the  vanguard  consists  of  their  picked  wild 
desperates,  resolute  for  mischief,  such  as  neither  fear  God 
nor  regard  their  fellow-creatures,  but  understand  themselves 
bound  to  hurry  from  the  road  whatever  is  displeasing  to  them- 
selves, so  the  rear-guard  consists  of  misproud  serving- men, 
who,  being  in  charge  of  the  baggage,  take  care  to  amend  by 


424 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


their  exactions  upon  travelling-merchants  and  others  theii 
own  thefts  on  their  master's  property.  You  will  hear  the  ad- 
vanced enfans  perdus,  as  the  French  call  them,  and  so  they 
are  indeed,  namely,  children  of  the  fall,  singing  unclean  and 
fulsome  ballads  of  sin  and  harlotrie.  And  then  will  come  on 
the  middle- ward,  when  you  will  hear  the  canticles  and  psalms 
sung  by  the  Keforming  nobles,  and  the  gentry,  and  honest 
and  pious  clergy,  by  whom  they  are  accompanied.  And  last 
of  all,  you  will  find  in  the  rear  a  legion  of  godless  lackeys,  and 
palfreniers,  and  horse-boys,  talking  of  nothing  but  dicing, 
drinking,  and  drabbing." 

As  the  pedlar  spoke,  they  had  reached  the  side  of  the  high- 
road, and  Murray's  main  body  was  in  sight,  consisting  of 
about  three  hundred  horse,  marching  with  great  regularity, 
and  in  a  closely  compacted  body.  Some  of  the  troopers  wore 
the  liveries  of  their  masters,  but  this  was  not  common.  Most 
of  them  were  dressed  in  such  colours  as  chance  dictated.  But 
the  majority  being  clad  in  blue  cloth,  and  the  whole  armed 
with  cuirass  and  back-plate,  with  sleeves  of  mail,  gauntlets, 
and  poldroons,  and  either  mailed  hose  or  strong  jack-boots, 
they  had  something  of  a  uniform  appearance.  Many  of  the 
leaders  were  clad  in  complete  armour,  and  all  in  a  certain 
half -military  dress,  which  no  man  of  quality  in  those  dis- 
turbed times  ever  felt  himself  sufficiently  safe  to  abandon. 

The  foremost  of  this  party  immediately  rode  up  to  the  ped- 
lar and  to  Halbert  Glendinning,  and  demanded  of  them  who 
they  were.  The  pedlar  told  his  story,  the  young  Glendinning 
exhibited  his  letter,  which  a  gentleman  carried  to  Murray.  In 
an  instant  after  the  word  "Halt!"  was  given  through  the 
squadron,  and  at  once  the  onward  heavy  tramp,  which  seemed 
the  most  distinctive  attribute  of  the  body,  ceased,  and  was 
heard  no  more.  The  command  was  announced  that  the  troop 
should  halt  here  for  an  hour  to  refresh  themselves  and  their 
horses.  The  pedlar  was  assured  of  safe  protection,  and  ac- 
commodated with  the  use  of  a  baggage  horse.  But  at  the 
same  time  he  was  ordered  into  the  rear — a  command  which  he 
reluctantly  obeyed,  and  not  without  wringing  pathetically  the 
hand  of  Halbert  as  he  separated  from  him. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


425 


The  young  heir  of  Glendearg  was  in  the  mean  while  con- 
ducted to  a  plot  of  ground  more  raised,  and  therefore  drier, 
than  the  rest  of  the  moor.  Here  a  carpet  was  flung  on  the 
ground  by  way  of  tablecloth,  and  around  it  sat  the  leaders  of 
•the  party,  partaking  of  an  entertainment  as  coarse,  with  rela- 
tion to  their  rank,  as  that  which  Glendinning  had  so  lately 
shared.  Murray  himself  rose  as  he  came  forward,  and  ad- 
vanced a  step  to  meet  him. 

This  celebrated  person  had  in  his  appearance,  as  well  as  in 
his  mind,  much  of  the  admirable  qualities  of  James  V.,  his 
father.  Had  not  the  stain  of  illegitimacy  rested  upon  his 
birth,  he  would  have  filled  the  Scottish  throne  with  as  much 
honour  as  any  of  the  Stuart  race.  But  history,  while  she 
acknowledges  his  high  talents,  and  much  that  was  prince- 
ly, nay,  royal,  in  his  conduct,  cannot  forget  that  ambition 
led  him  farther  than  honour  or  loyalty  warranted.  Brave 
amongst  the  bravest,  fair  in  presence  and  in  favour,  skilful  to 
manage  the  most  intricate  affairs,  to  attach  to  himself  those 
who  were  doubtful,  to  stun  and  overwhelm,  by  the  suddenness 
and  intrepidity  of  his  enterprises,  those  who  were  resolute  in 
resistance,  he  attained,  and  as  to  personal  merit  certainly  de- 
served, the  highest  place  in  the  kingdom.  But  he  abused, 
under  the  influence  of  strong  temptation,  the  opportunities 
which  his  sister  Mary's  misfortunes  and  imprudence  threw  in 
his,  way :  he  supplanted  his  sovereign  and  benefactress  in  her 
power,  and  his  history  affords  us  one  of  those  mixed  charac- 
ters in  which  principle  was  so  often  sacrificed  to  policy  that 
we  must  condemn  the  statesman  while  we  pity  and  regret  the 
individual.  Many  events  in  his  life  give  likelihood  to  the 
charge  that  he  himself  aimed  at  the  crown ;  and  it  is  too  true 
that  he  countenanced  the  fatal  expedient  of  establishing  an 
English,  that  is,  a  foreign  and  a  hostile,  interest  in  the  coun- 
cils of  Scotland.  But  his  death  may  be  received  as  an  atone- 
ment for  his  offences,  and  may  serve  to  show  how  much  more 
safe  is  the  person  of  a  real  patriot  than  that  of  the  mere  head 
of  a  faction,  who  is  accounted  answerable  for  the  offences  of 
his  meanest  attendants. 

When  Murray  approached,  the  young  rustic  was  naturally 


426 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


abashed  at  the  dignity  of  his  presence.  The  commanding 
form,  and  the  countenance  to  which  high  and  important 
thoughts  were  familiar,  the  features  which  bore  the  resem- 
blance of  Scotland's  long  line  of  kings,  were  well  calculated 
to  impress  awe  and  reverence.  His  dress  had  little  to  dis-  • 
tinguish  him  from  the  high-born  nobles  and  barons  by  whom 
he  was  attended.  A  buff-coat,  richly  embroidered  with  silken 
lace,  supplied  the  place  of  armour;  and  a  massive  gold  chain, 
with  its  medal,  hung  round  his  neck.  His  black  velvet  bon- 
net was  decorated  with  a  string  of  large  and  fair  pearls,  and 
with  a  small  tufted  feather ;  a  long  heavy  sword  was  girt  to 
his  side,  as  the  familiar  companion  of  his  hand.  He  wore 
gilded  spurs  on  his  boots,  and  these  completed  his  equip- 
ment. 

"  This  letter, "  he  said,  "  is  from  the  godly  preacher  of  the 
Word,  Henry  Warden,  young  man,  is  it  not  so?"  Halbert 
answered  in  the  affirmative.  "  And  he  writes  to  us,  it  would 
seem,  in  some  strait,  and  refers  us  to  you  for  the  circum- 
stances.   Let  us  know,  I  pray  you,  how  things  stand  with  him. " 

In  some  perturbation  Halbert  Glendinning  gave  an  account 
of  the  circumstances  which  had  accompanied  the  preacher's 
imprisonment.  When  he  came  to  the  discussion  of  the  hand- 
fasting  engagement,  he  was  struck  with  the  ominous  and  dis- 
pleased expression  of  Murray's  brows,  and,  contrary  to  all 
prudential  and  politic  rule,  seeing  something  was  wrong,  yet 
not  well  aware  what  that  something  was,  had  almost  stopped 
short  in  his  narrative. 

"What  ails  the  fool?"  said  the  Earl,  drawing  his  dark-red 
eyebrows  together,  while  the  same  dusky  glow  kindled  on  his 
brow.  "  Hast  thou  not  learned  to  tell  a  true  tale  without 
stammering?" 

"So  please  you,"  answered  Halbert,  with  considerable  ad- 
dress, "  I  have  never  before  spoken  in  such  a  presence." 

"  He  seems  a  modest  youth, "  said  Murray,  turning  to  his  next 
attendant,  "  and  yet  one  who  in  a  good  cause  will  neither  fear 
friend  nor  foe.    Speak  on,  friend,  and  speak  freely." 

Halbert  then  gave  an  account  of  the  quarrel  betwixt  Julian 
Avenel  and  the  preacher,  which  the  Earl,  biting  his  lip  the 


THE  MONASTERY. 


427 


while,  compelled  himself  to  listen  to  as  a  thing  of  indifference. 
At  first  he  appeared  even  to  take  the  part  of  the  Baron. 

"Henry  Warden,"  he  said,  "is  too  hot  in  his  zeal.  The 
law  both  of  God  and  man  maketh  allowance  for  certain  alli- 
ances, though  not  strictly  formal,  and  the  issue  of  such  may 
succeed.  " 

This  general  declaration  he  expressed,  accompanying  it  with 
a  glance  around  upon  the  few  followers  who  were  present  at  this 
interview.  The  most  of  them  answered :  "  There  is  no  con- 
travening that" ;  but  one  or  two  looked  on  the  ground,  and 
were  silent.  Murray  then  turned  again  to  Glendinning,  com- 
manding him  to  say  what  next  chanced,  and  not  to  omit  any 
particular.  When  he  mentioned  the  manner  in  which  Julian 
had  cast  from  him  his  concubine,  Murray  drew  a  deep  breath, 
set  his  teeth  hard,  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  dagger. 
Casting  his  eyes  once  more  around  the  circle,  which  was  now 
augmented  by  one  or  two  of  the  Eeformed  preachers,  he 
seemed  to  devour  his  rage  in  silence,  and  again  commanded 
Halbert  to  proceed.  When  he  came  to  describe  how  Warden 
had  been  dragged  to  a  dungeon,  the  Earl  seemed  to  have  found 
the  point  at  which  he  might  give  vent  to  his  own  resentment, 
secure  of  the  sympathy  and  approbation  of  all  who  were  pres- 
ent. "  Judge  you, "  he  said,  looking  to  those  around  him — 
"  judge  you,  my  peers  and  noble  gentlemen  of  Scotland,  betwixt 
me  and  this  Julian  Avenel — he  hath  broken  his  own  word,  and 
hath  violated  my  safe-conduct ;  and  judge  you  also,  my  reve- 
rend brethren — he  hath  put  his  hand  forth  upon  a  preacher  of 
the  Gospel,  and  perchance  may  sell  his  blood  to  the  worship- 
pers of  Anti-Christ!" 

"  Let  him  die  the  death  of  a  traitor,"  said  the  secular  chiefs, 
"  and  let  his  tongue  be  struck  through  with  the  hangman's  fiery 
iron,  to  avenge  his  perjury!" 

"  Let  him  go  down  to  his  place  with  Baal's  priests^ 
the  preachers,  "  and  be  his  ashes  cast  into  Tophet." 

Murray  heard  them  with  the  smile  of  expected  : 
it  is  probable  that  the  brutal  treatment  of  the^ 
circumstances  somewhat  resembled. 
mother,  had  its  share  in  the  grim  si 


A 


428 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


burnt  cheek  and  his  haughty  lip.  To  Halbert  Glendinning, 
when  his  narrative  was  finished,  he  spoke  with  great  kind- 
ness. 

"  He  is  a  bold  and  gallant  youth, "  said  he  to  those  around, 
"  and  formed  of  the  stuff  which  becomes  a  bustling  time. 
There  are  periods  when  men's  spirits  shine  bravely  through 
them.    I  will  know  something  more  of  him." 

He  questioned  him  more  particularly  concerning  the  Baron 
of  Avenel's  probable  forces,  the  strength  of  his  castle,  the  dis- 
positions of  his  nexb  heir,  and  this  brought  necessarily  forward 
the  sad  history  of  his  brother's  daughter,  Mary  Avenel,  which 
was  told  with  an  embarrassment  that  did  not  escape  Murray. 

"Ha!  Julian  Avenel,"  he  said,  "and  do  you  provoke  my 
resentment,  when  you  have  so  much  more  reason  to  deprecate 
my  justice!  I  knew  Walter  Avenel,  a  true  Scotsman  and  a 
good  soldier.  Our  sister,  the  Queen,  must  right  his  daughter; 
and  were  her  land  restored,  she  would  be  a  fitting  bride  to 
some  brave  man  who  may  better  merit  our  favour  than  the 
traitor  Julian."  Then  looking  at  Halbert,  he  said :  "  Art  thou 
of  gentle  blood,  young  man?" 

Halbert,  with  a  faltering  and  uncertain  voice,  began  to 
speak  of  his  distant  pretensions  to  claim  a  descent  from  the 
ancient  Glendonwynes  of  Galloway,  when  Murray  interrupted 
him  with  a  smile. 

"  Nay — nay,  leave  pedigrees  to  bards  and  heralds.  In  our 
days,  each  man  is  the  son  of  his  own  deeds.  The  glorious 
light  of  Eef ormation  hath  shone  alike  on  prince  and  peasant ; 
and  peasant  as  well  as  prince  may  be  illustrated  by  fighting 
in  its  defence.  It  is  a  stirring  world,  where  all  may  advance 
themselves  who  have  stout  hearts  and  strong  arms.  Tell  me 
frankly  why  thou  hast  left  thy  father's  house." 

Halbert  Glendinning  made  a  frank  confession  of  his  duel 
Piercie  Shafton,  and  mentioned  his  supposed  death, 
pry  hand,"  said  Murray,  "thou  art  a  bold  sparrow- 
natch  thee  so  early  with  such  a  kite  as  Piercie  Shaf- 
Elizabeth  would  give  her  glove  filled  with  gold 
dling  coxcomb  to  be  under  the  sod. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


429 


"  Ay,  by  my  word,  and  esteem  her  glove  a  better  gift  than 
the  crowns,"  replied  Morton,  "which  few  Border  lads  like 
this  fellow  well  esteem  just  valuation." 

"  But  what  shall  we  do  with  this  young  homicide?"  said 
Murray;  "what  will  our  preachers  say?" 

"  Tell  them  of  Moses  and  of  Benaiah,"  said  Morton;  "  it  is 
but  the  smiting  of  an  Egyptian  when  all  is  said  out." 

"  Let  it  be  so, "  said  Murray,  laughing ;  "  but  we  will  bury 
the  tale,  as  the  prophet  did  the  body,  in  the  sand.  I  will 
take  care  of  this  swankie.  Be  near  to  us,  Glendinning,  since 
that  is  thy  name.  We  retain  thee  as  a  squire  of  our  house- 
hold. The  master  of  our  horse  will  see  thee  fully  equipped 
and  armed/' 

During  the  expedition  which  he  was  now  engaged  in,  Mur- 
ray found  several  opportunities  of  putting  Glendinning' s  cour- 
age and  presence  of  mind  to  the  test,  and  he  began  to  rise  so 
rapidly  in  his  esteem  that  those  who  knew  the  Earl  considered 
the  youth's  fortune  as  certain.  One  step  only  was  wanting  to 
raise  him  to  a  still  higher  degree  of  confidence  and  favour :  it 
was  the  abjuration  of  the  Popish  religion.  The  ministers  who 
attended  upon  Murray,  and  formed  his  chief  support  amongst 
the  people,  found  an  easy  convert  in  Halbert  Glendinning, 
who,  from  his  earliest  days,  had  never  felt  much  devotion 
towards  the  Catholic  faith,  and  who  listened  eagerly  to  more 
reasonable  views  of  religion.  By  thus  adopting  the  faith  of 
his  master,  he  rose  higher  in  his  favour,  and  was  constantly 
about  his  person  during  his  prolonged  stay  in  the  west  of 
Scotland,  which  the  intractability  of  those  whom  the  Earl  had 
to  deal  with  protracted  from  day  to  day  and  week  to  week. 


430 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Faint  the  din  of  battle  bray'd 

Distant  down  the  hollow  wind  ; 
War  and  terror  fled  before, 

Wounds  and  death  were  left  behind. 

Penrose. 

The  autumn  of  the  year  was  well  advanced,  when  the  Earl 
of  Morton  one  morning  rather  unexpectedly  entered  the  ante- 
chamber of  Murray,  in  which  Halbert  Glendinning  was  in 
waiting. 

"Call  your  master,  Halbert,"  said  the  Earl;  "I  have  news 
for  him  from  Teviotdale;  and  for  you  too,  Glendinning. 
News! — news!  my  Lord  of  Murray!"  he  exclaimed  at  the 
door  of  the  Earl's  bedroom;  "come  forth  instantly." 

The  Earl  appeared,  and  greeted  his  ally,  demanding  eagerly 
his  tidings. 

"  I  have  had  a  sure  friend  with  me  from  the  south, "  said 
Morton;  "he  has  been  at  St.  Mary's  Monastery,  and  brings 
important  tidings." 

"Of  what  complexion?"  said  Murray,  "and  can  you  trust 

the  bearer?" 

"He  is  faithful,  on  my  life,"  said  Morton;  "I  wish  all 
around  your  lordship  may  prove  equally  so." 

"At  what,  and  whom,  do  you  point?"  demanded  Murray. 

"  Here  is  the  Egyptian  of  trusty  Halbert  Glendinning,  our 
Southland  Moses,  come  alive  again,  and  flourishing,  gay  and 
bright  as  ever,  in  that  Teviotdale  Goshen,  the  halidome  of 
Kennaquhair." 

"  What  mean  you,  my  lord?"  said  Murray. 

"  Only  that  your  new  henchman  has  put  a  false  tale  upon 
you.  Piercie  Shafton  is  alive  and  well;  by  the  same  token 
that  the  gull  is  thought  to  be  detained  there  by  love  to  a 
miller's  daughter,  who  roamed  the  country  with  him  in  dis- 
guise." 

"Glendinning,"  said  Murray,  bending  his  brow  into  his 


THE  MONASTERY. 


431 


darkest  frown,  "thou  hast  not,  I  trust,  dared  to  bring  me  a 
lie  in  thy  mouth,  in  order  to  win  my  confidence!" 

"My  lord,"  said  Halbert,  "I  am  incapable  of  a  lie.  I 
should  choke  on  one  were  my  life  to  require  that  I  pronounced 
it.  I  say,  that  this  sword  of  my  father  was  through  the 
body :  the  point  came  out  behind  his  back,  the  hilt  pressed 
upon  his  breastbone.  And  I  will  plunge  it  as  deep  in  the 
body  of  any  one  who  shall  dare  to  charge  me  with  false- 
hood." 

"  How,  fellow!"  said  Morton,  "  wouldst  thou  beard  a  noble- 
man?" 

"  Be  silent,  Halbert, "  said  Murray,  "  and  you,  my  Lord  of 
Morton,  forbear  him.    I  see  truth  written  on  his  brow." 

"  I  wish  the  inside  of  the  manuscript  may  correspond  with 
the  superscription,"  replied  his  more  suspicious  ally.  "Look 
to  it,  my  lord,  you  will  one  day  lose  your  life  by  too  much 
confidence." 

"  And  you  will  lose  your  friends  by  being  too  readily  suspi- 
cious, "  answered  Murray.  "  Enough  of  this — let  me  hear  thy 
tidings." 

"  Sir  John  Foster,"  said  Morton,  "  is  about  to  send  a  party 
into  Scotland  to  waste  the  halidome." 

"How!  without  waiting  my  presence  and  permission?"  said 
Murray;  "he  is  mad.  Will  he  come  as  an  enemy  into  the 
Queen's  country?" 

"He  has  Elizabeth's  express  orders,"  answered  Morton, 
"and  they  are  not  to  be  trifled  with.  Indeed,  his  march  has 
been  more  than  once  projected  and  laid  aside  during  the  time 
we  have  been  here,  and  has  caused  much  alarm  at  Kenna- 
quhair.  Boniface,  the  old  abbot,  has  resigned,  and  whom 
think  you  they  have  chosen  in  his  place?" 

"No  one  surely,"  said  Murray;  "they  would  presume  to 
hold  no  election  until  the  Queen's  pleasure  and  mine  were 
known?" 

Morton  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  They  have  chosen  the 
pupil  of  old  Cardinal  Batoun,  that  wily,  determined  cham- 
pion of  Rome,  the  bosom-friend  of  our  busy  Primate  of  St. 
Andrews.    Eustace,  late  the  sub-prior  of  Kennaquhair,  is  now 


432 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


its  abbot,  and,  like  a  second  Pope  Julius,  is  levying  men  and 
making  musters  to  fight  with  Foster  if  he  comes  forward." 

"We  must  prevent  that  meeting,"  said  Murray,  hastily; 
"  whichever  party  wins  the  day,  it  were  a  fatal  encounter  for 
us.    Who  commands  the  troop  of  the  abbot?" 

"  Our  faithful  old  friend,  Julian  Avenel,  nothing  less, "  an- 
swered Morton. 

"  Glendinning, "  said  Murray,  "sound  trumpets  to  horse 
directly,  and  let  all  who  love  us  get  on  horseback  without 
delay.  Yes,  my  lord,  this  were  indeed  a  fatal  dilemma.  If 
we  take  part  with  our  English  friends,  the  country  will  cry 
shame  on  us — the  very  old  wives  will  attack  us  with  their 
rocks  and  spindles — the  very  stones  of  the  street  will  rise  up 
against  us ;  we  cannot  set  our  face  to  such  a  deed  of  infamy. 
And  my  sister,  whose  confidence  I  already  have  such  difficulty 
in  preserving,  will  altogether  withdraw  it  from  me.  Then, 
were  we  to  oppose  the  English  warden,  Elizabeth  would  call 
it  a  protecting  of  her  enemies  and  wot  not,  and  we  should 
lose  her." 

"  The  she-dragon, "  said  Morton,  "  is  the  best  card  in  our 
pack;  and  yet  I  would  not  willingly  stand  still  and  see  Eng- 
lish blades  carve  Scots'  flesh.  What  say  you  to  loitering  by 
the  wray,  marching  fair  and  easy  for  fear  of  spoiling  our 
horses?  They  might  then  fight  dog  fight  bull,  fight  abbot 
fight  archer,  and  no  one  could  blame  us  for  what  chanced 
when  we  were  not  present." 

"All  would  blame  us,  James  Douglas,"  replied  Murray; 
"we  should  lose  both  sides.  We  had  better  advance  with 
the  utmost  celerity,  and  do  what  we  can  to  keep  the  peace 
betwixt  them.  I  would  the  nag  that  brought  Piercie  Shafton 
hither  had  broken  his  neck  over  the  highest  heuch  in  North- 
umberland !  He  is  a  proper  coxcomb  to  make  all  this  bustle 
about,  and  to  occasion  perhaps  a  national  war!" 

"  Had  we  known  in  time, "  said  Douglas,  "  we  might  have 
had  him  privily  waited  upon  as  he  entered  the  Borders ;  there 
are  strapping  lads  enough  would  have  rid  us  of  him  for 
the  lucre  of  his  spur-whang.  But  to  the  saddle,  James 
Stuart,   since  so  the  phrase  goes.     I  hear  your  trumpets 


THE  MONASTERY. 


433 


sound  to  horse  and  away ;  we  shall  soon  see  which  nag  is  best 
breathed. " 

Followed  by  a  train  of  about  three  hundred  well-mounted 
men-at-arms,  these  two  powerful  barons  directed  their  course 
to  Dumfries,  and  from  thence  eastward  to  Teviotdale,  march- 
ing at  a  rate  which,  as  Morton  had  foretold,  soon  disabled  a 
good  many  of  their  horses,  so  that,  when  they  approached 
the  scene  of  expected  action,  there  were  not  above  two  hun- 
dred of  their  train  remaining  in  a  body,  and  of  these  most 
were  mounted  on  steeds  which  had  been  sorely  jaded. 

They  had  hitherto  been  amused  and  agitated  by  various 
reports  concerning  the  advance  of  the  English  soldiers,  and 
the  degree  of  resistance  which  the  abbot  was  able  to  oppose 
to  them.  But  when  they  were  six  or  seven  miles  from  St. 
Mary's  of  Kennaquhair,  a  gentleman  of  the  country,  whom 
Murray  had  summoned  to  attend  him,  and  on  whose  intelli- 
gence he  knew  he  could  rely,  arrived  at  the  head  of  two 
or  three  servants,  "  bloody  with  spurring,  fiery  red  with  haste. " 
According  to  his  report,  Sir  John  Foster,  after  several  times 
announcing,  and  as  often  delaying,  his  intended  incursion,  had 
at  last  been  so  stung  with  the  news  that  Piercie  Shafton  was 
openly  residing  within  the  halidome  that  he  determined  to 
execute  the  commands  of  his  mistress,  which  directed  him,  at 
every  risk,  to  make  himself  master  of  the  Euphuist's  person. 
The  abbot's  unceasing  exertions  had  collected  a  body  of  men 
almost  equal  in  number  to  those  of  the  English  warden,  but 
less  practised  in  arms.  They  were  united  under  the  command 
of  Julian  Avenel,  and  it  was  apprehended  they  would  join 
battle  upon  the  banks  of  a  small  stream  which  forms  the  verge 
of  the  halidome. 

"  Who  knows  the  place?"  said  Murray. 

"I  do,  my  lord,"  answered  Glendinning. 

"'Tis  well,"  said  the  Earl;  "take  a  score  of  the  best- 
mounted  horse;  make  what  haste  thou  canst,  and  announce 
to  them  that  I  am  coming  up  instantly  with  a  strong  power, 
and  will  cut  to  pieces,  without  mercy,  whichever  party  strikes 
the  first  blow.  Davidson,"  said  he  to  the  gentleman  who 
brought  the  intelligence,  "thou  shalt  be  my  guide.  Hie  thee 
28 


434 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


on,  Glendinning.  Say  to  Poster,  I  conjure  him,  as  he  re- 
spects his  mistress's  service,  that  he  will  leave  the  matter  in 
my  hands.  Say  to  the  abbot,  I  will  burn  the  monastery  over 
his  head,  if  he  strikes  a  stroke  till  I  come.  Tell  the  dog, 
Julian  Avenel,  that  he  hath  already  one  deep  score  to  settle 
with  me,  I  wTill  set  his  head  on  the  top  of  the  highest  pin- 
nacle of  St.  Mary's  if  he  presume  to  open  another.  Make 
haste,  and  spare  not  the  spur  for  fear  of  spoiling  horse-flesh. " 

"Your  bidding  shall  be  obeyed,  my  lord,"  said  Glendin- 
ning; and  choosing  those  whose  horses  were  in  best  plight 
to  be  his  attendants,  he  went  off  as  fast  as  the  jaded  state 
of  their  cavalry  permitted.  Hill  and  hollow  vanished  from 
under  the  feet  of  the  chargers. 

They  had  not  ridden  above  half  the  way  when  they  met 
stragglers  coming  off  from  the  field,  whose  appearance  an- 
nounced that  the  conflict  was  begun.  Two  supported  in  their 
arms  a  third,  their  elder  brother,  who  was  pierced  with  an 
arrow  through  the  body.  Halbert,  who  knew  them  to  belong 
to  the  halidome,  called  them  by  their  names,  and  questioned 
them  of  the  state  of  the  affray;  but  just  then,  in  spite  of  their 
efforts  to  retain  him  in  the  saddle,  their  brother  dropped  from 
the  horse,  and  they  dismounted  in  haste  to  receive  his  last 
breath.  From  men  thus  engaged  no  information  was  to  be 
obtained.  Glendinning,  therefore,  pushed  on  with  his  little 
troop,  the  more  anxiously  as  he  perceived  other  stragglers, 
bearing  St.  Andrew's  cross  upon  their  caps  and  corslets,  fly- 
ing apparently  from  the  field  of  battle.  Most  of  these,  when 
they  were  aware  of  a  body  of  horsemen  approaching  on  the 
road,  held  to  the  one  hand  or  the  other,  at  such  a  distance  as 
precluded  coming  to  speech  of  them.  Others,  whose  fear 
was  more  intense,  kept  the  onward  road,  galloping  wildly  as 
fast  as  their  horses  could  carry  them,  and  when  questioned, 
only  glared  without  reply  on  those  who  spoke  to  them,  and 
rode  on  without  drawing  bridle.  Several  of  these  were  also 
known  to  Halbert,  who  had  therefore  no  doubt,  from  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  he  met  them,  that  the  men  of  the  hali- 
dome were  defeated.  He  became  now  unspeakably  anxious 
concerning  the  fate  of  his  brother,  who,  he  could  not  doubt, 


THE  MONASTERY. 


435 


must  have  been  engaged  in  the  affray.  He  therefore  increased 
the  speed  of  his  horse,  so  that  not  above  five  or  six  of  his  fol- 
lowers could  keep  up  with  hirn.  At  length  he  reached  a  little 
hill,  at  the  descent  of  which,  surrounded  by  a  semicircular 
sweep  of  a  small  stream,  lay  the  plain  which  had  been  the 
scene  of  the  skirmish. 

It  was  a  melancholy  spectacle.  War  and  terror,  to  use  the 
expression  of  the  poet,  had  rushed  on  to  the  field,  and  left 
only  wounds  and  death  behind  them.  The  battle  had  been 
stoutly  contested,  as  was  almost  always  the  case  with  these 
Border  skirmishes,  where  ancient  hatred  and  mutual  injuries 
made  men  stubborn  in  maintaining  the  cause  of  their  conflict. 
Towards  the  middle  of  the  plain  there  lay  the  bodies  of  sev- 
eral men  who  had  fallen  in  the  very  act  of  grappling  with  the 
enemy;  and  there  were  seen  countenances  which  still  bore 
the  stern  expression  of  unextinguishable  hate  and  defiance, 
hands  which  clasped  the  hilt  of  the  broken  falchion,  or  strove 
in  vain  to  pluck  the  deadly  arrow  from  the  wound.  Some 
were  wounded,  and,  cowed  of  the  courage  they  had  lately 
shown,  were  begging  aid  and  craving  water  in  a  tone  of  mel- 
ancholy depression,  while  others  tried  to  teach  the  faltering 
tongue  to  pronounce  some  half -forgotten  prayer,  which,  even 
when  first  learned,  they  had  but  half-understood.  Halbert, 
uncertain  what  course  he  was  next  to  pursue,  rode  through 
the  plain  to  see  if,  among  the  dead  or  wounded,  he  could  dis- 
cover any  traces  of  his  brother  Edward.  He  experienced  no 
interruption  from  the  English.  A  distant  cloud  of  dust  an- 
nounced that  they  were  still  pursuing  the  scattered  fugitives, 
and  he  guessed  that  to  approach  them  with  his  followers,  un- 
til they  were  again  under  some  command,  would  be  to  throw 
away  his  own  life  and  that  of  his  men,  whom  the  victors  would 
instantly  confound  with  the  Scots  against  whom  they  had 
been  successful.  He  resolved,  therefore,  to  pause  until  Mur- 
ray came  up  with  his  forces,  to  which  he  was  the  more  readily 
moved  as  he  heard  the  trumpets  of  the  English  warden  sound- 
ing the  retreat,  and  recalling  from  the  pursuit.  He  drew  his 
men  together,  and  made  a  stand  in  an  advantageous  spot  of 
ground,  which  had  been  occupied  by  the  Scots  in  the  beginning 


436 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  the  action,  and  most  fiercely  disputed  while  the  skirmish 
lasted. 

While  he  stood  here,  Halbert' s  ear  was  assailed  by  the 
feeble  moan  of  a  woman,  which  he  had  not  expected  to  hear 
amid  that  scene,  until  the  retreat  of  the  foes  had  permitted 
the  relations  of  the  slain  to  approach,  for  the  purpose  of  pay- 
ing them  the  last  duties.  He  looked  with  anxiety,  and  at 
length  observed  that  by  the  body  of  a  knight  in  bright  armour, 
whose  crest,  though  soiled  and  broken,  still  showed  the  marks 
of  rank  and  birth,  there  sat  a  female,  wrapt  in  a  horseman's 
cloak,  and  holding  something  pressed  against  her  bosom,  which 
he  soon  discovered  to  be  a  child.  He  glanced  towards  the 
English.  They  advanced  not,  and  the  continued  and  pro- 
longed sound  of  their  trumpets,  with  the  shouts  of  the  leaders, 
announced  that  their  powers  would  not  be  instantly  reassem- 
bled. He  had,  therefore,  a  moment  to  look  after  this  unfor- 
tunate woman.  He  gave  his  horse  to  a  spearman  as  he  dis- 
mounted, and  approaching  the  unhappy  female,  asked  her,  in 
the  most  soothing  tone  he  could  assume,  whether  he  could  as- 
sist her  in  her  distress.  The  mourner  made  him  no  direct 
answer;  but  endeavouring,  with  a  trembling  and  unskilful 
hand,  to  undo  the  springs  of  the  visor  and  gorget,  said,  in  a 
tone  of  impatient  grief :  "  Oh,  he  would  recover  instantly  could 
I  but  give  him  air — land  and  living,  life  and  honour,  would  I 
give  for  the  power  of  undoing  these  cruel  iron  platings  that 
suffocate  him!"  He  that  would  soothe  sorrow  must  not  argue 
on  the  vanity  of  the  most  deceitful  hopes.  The  body  lay  as 
that  of  one  whose  last  draught  of  vital  air  had  been  drawn, 
and  who  must  never  more  have  concern  with  the  nether  sky. 
But  Halbert  Glendinning  failed  not  to  raise  the  visor  and  cast 
loose  the  gorget,  when,  to  his  great  surprise,  he  recognised 
the  pale  face  of  Julian  Avenel.  His  last  fight  was  over:  the 
fierce  and  turbid  spirit  had  departed  in  the  strife  in  which  it 
had  so  long  delighted. 

"  Alas!  he  is  gone,"  said  Halbert,  speaking  to  the  young 
woman,  in  whom  he  had  now  no  difficulty  of  knowing  the  un- 
happy Catherine. 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no!"  she  reiterated,  "do  not  say  so;  he  is  not 


THE  MONASTERY. 


437 


dead,  he  is  but  in  a  swoon.  I  have  lain  as  long  in  one  my- 
self ;  and  then  his  voice  would  rouse  me,  when  he  spoke  kind- 
ly, and  said,  'Catherine,  look  up  for  my  sake.'  And  lookup, 
Julian,  for  mine! "  she  said,  addressing  the  senseless  corpse. 
"  I  know  you  do  but  counterfeit  to  frighten  me,  but  I  am  not 
frightened,"  she  added,  with  an  hysterical  attempt  to  laugh; 
and  then  instantly  changing  her  tone,  entreated  him  to  "  Speak, 
were  it  but  to  curse  my  folly.  Oh,  the  rudest  word  you  ever 
said  to  me  would  now  sound  like  the  dearest  you  wasted  on 
me  before  I  gave  you  all.  Lift  him  up,"  she  said — "lift  him 
up,  for  God's  sake! — have  you  no  compassion?  He  promised 
to  wed  me  if  I  bore  him  a  boy,  and  this  child  is  so  like  to  its 
father !  How  shall  he  keep  his  word,  if  you  do  not  help  me 
to  awaken  him?  Christie  of  the  Clinthill — Kowley — Hutch- 
eon!  ye  were  constant  at  his  feast,  but  ye  fled  from  him  at  the 
fray,  false  villains  as  ye  are!" 

"Not  I,  by  Heaven!"  said  a  dying  man,  who  made  some 
shift  to  raise  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  discovered  to  Halbert 
the  well-known  features  of  Christie ;  "  I  fled  not  a  foot,  and 
a  man  can  but  fight  while  his  breath  lasts  :  mine  is  going  fast. 
So,  youngster,"  said  he,  looking  at  Glendinning,  and  seeing 
his  military  dress,  "thou  hast  ta'en  the  basnet  at  last?  It 
is  a  better  cap  to  live  in  than  die  in.  I  would  chance  had 
sent  thy  brother  here  instead,  there  was  good  in  him;  but 
thou  art  as  wild,  and  wilt  soon  be  as  wicked,  as  myself." 

"God  forbid!"  said  Halbert,  hastily. 

"Marry,  and  amen,  with  all  my  heart,"  said  the  wounded 
man ;  "  there  will  be  company  enow  without  thee  where  I  am 
going.  But  God  be  praised  I  had  no  hand  in  that  wicked- 
ness," said  he,  looking  to  poor  Catherine;  and  with  some 
exclamation  in  his  mouth  that  sounded  betwixt  a  prayer  and 
a  curse,  the  soul  of  Christie  of  the  Clinthill  took  wing  to  the 
last  account. 

Deeply  wrapt  in  the  painful  interest  which  these  shocking 
events  had  excited,  Glendinning  forgot  for  a  moment  his  own 
situation  and  duties,  and  was  first  recalled  to  them  by  a  tram- 
pling of  horse,  and  the  cry  of  "  St.  George  for  England,"  which 
the  English  soldiers  still  continued  to  use.    His  handful  of 


438 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


men,  for  most  of  the  stragglers  had  waited  for  Murray's  com- 
ing up,  remained  on  horseback,  holding  their  lances  upright, 
having  no  command  either  to  submit  or  resist. 

"  There  stands  our  captain, 99  said  one  of  them,  as  a  strong 
party  of  English  came  up,  the  vanguard  of  Foster's  troop. 

"Your  captain!  with  his  sword  sheathed,  and  on  foot  in 
the  presence  of  his  enemy?  a  raw  soldier,  I  warrant  him," 
said  the  English  leader.  "  So  ho !  young  man,  is  your  dream 
out,  and  will  you  now  answer  me  if  you  will  fight  or  fly?" 

"Neither,"  answered  Halbert  Glendinning,  with  great  tran- 
quillity. 

"Then  throw  down  thy  sword  and  yield  thee,"  answered 
the  Englishman. 

"Not  till  I  can  help  myself  no  otherwise,"  said  Halbert, 
with  the  same  moderation  of  tone  and  manner. 

"Art  thou  for  thine  own  hand,  friend,  or  to  whom  dost 
thou  owe  service?"  demanded  the  English  captain. 

"  To  the  noble  Earl  of  Murray." 

"Then  thou  servest,"  said  the  Southron,  "the  most  disloyal 
nobleman  who  breathes — false  both  to  England  and  Scotland." 

"Thou  liest!"  said  Glendinning,  regardless  of  all  conse- 
quences. 

"Ha!  art  thou  so  hot  now,  and  wert  so  cold  but  a  minute 
since?    I  lie,  do  I?    Wilt  thou  do  battle  with  me  on  that 

quarrel?" 

"  With  one  to  one — one  to  two — or  two  to  five,  as  you  list," 
said  Halbert  Glendinning;  "grant  me  but  a  fair  field." 

"  That  thou  shalt  have.  Stand  back,  my  mates, "  said  the 
brave  Englishman.  "If  I  fall,  give  him  fair  play,  and  let 
him  go  off  free  with  his  people." 

"Long  life  to  the  noble  captain!"  cried  the  soldiers,  as  im- 
patient to  see  the  duel  as  if  it  had  been  a  bull-baiting. 

"  He  will  have  a  short  life  of  it,  though,"  said  the  sergeant, 
"  if  he,  an  old  man  of  sixty,  is  to  fight  for  any  reason,  or  for 
no  reason,  with  every  man  he  meets,  and  especially  the  young 
fellows  he  might  be  father  to.  And  here  comes  the  warden 
besides,  to  see  the  sword-play." 

In  fact,  Sir  John  Foster  came  up  with  a  considerable  body 


THE  MONASTERY. 


439 


of  his  horsemen,  just  as  his  captain,  whose  age  rendered  him 
unequal  to  the  combat  with  so  strong  and  active  a  youth  as 
Glendinning,  was  deprived  of  his  sword. 

"  Take  it  up  for  shame,  old  Stawarth  Bolton, "  said  the  Eng- 
lish warden;  "and  thou,  young  man,  tell  me  who  and  what 
thou  art?" 

"A  follower  of  the  Earl  of  Murray,  who  bore  his  will  to 
your  honour,"  answered  Glendinning;  "but  here  he  comes 
to  say  it  himself,  I  see  the  van  of  his  horsemen  come  over 
the  hills." 

"  Get  into  order,  my  masters, "  said  Sir  John  Foster  to  his 
followers;  "you  that  have  broken  your  spears,  draw  your 
swords.  We  are  something  unprovided  for  a  second  field,  but 
if  yonder  dark  cloud  on  the  hill-edge  bring  us  foul  weather 
we  must  bear  as  bravely  as  our  broken  cloaks  will  bide  it. 
Meanwhile,  Stawarth,  we  have  got  the  deer  we  have  hunt- 
ed for:  here  is  Piercie  Shafton  hard  and  fast  betwixt  two 
troopers." 

"Who,  that  lad?"  said  Bolton;  "he  is  no  more  Piercie 
Shafton  than  I  am.  He  hath  his  gay  cloak  indeed;  but 
Piercie  Shafton  is  a  round  dozen  of  years  older  than  that  slip 
of  roguery.  I  have  known  him  since  he  was  thus  high.  Did 
you  never  see  him  in  the  tiltyard  or  in  the  presence?" 

"To  the  devil  with  such  vanities!"  said  Sir  John  Foster; 
"  when  had  I  leisure  for  them  or  anything  else?  During  my 
whole  life  has  she  kept  me  to  this  hangman's  office,  chasing 
thieves  one  day  and  traitors  another,  in  daily  fear  of  my  life ; 
the  lance  never  hung  up  in  the  hall,  the  foot  never  out  of  the 
stirrup,  the  saddles  never  off  my  nags'  backs;  and  now,  be- 
cause I  have  been  mistaken  in  the  person  of  a  man  I  never 
saw,  I  warrant  me  the  next  letters  from  the  privy  council  will 
rate  me  as  I  were  a  dog.  A  man  were  better  dead  than  thus 
slaved  and  harassed!" 

A  trumpet  interrupted  Foster's  complaints,  and  a  Scottish 
pursuivant  who  attended  declared,  "  That  the  noble  Earl  of 
Murray  desired,  in  all  honour  and  safety,  a  personal  confer- 
ence with  Sir  John  Foster,  midway  between  their  parties,  with 
six  of  company  in  each,  and  ten  free  minutes  to  come  and  go." 


440 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  And  now, "  said  the  Englishman,  "  comes  another  plague. 
I  must  go  speak  with  yonder  false  Scot,  and  he  knows  how 
to  frame  his  devices,  to  cast  dust  in  the  eyes  of  a  plain  man, 
as  well  as  ever  a  knave  in  the  north.  I  am  no  match  for  him 
in  words,  and  for  hard  blows  we  are  but  too  ill  provided. 
Pursuivant,  we  grant  the  conference;  and  you,  sir  swordsman 
(speaking  to  young  Glendinning) ,  draw  off  with  your  troopers 
to  your  own  party — march — attend  your  Earl's  trumpet. 
Stawarth  Bolton,  put  our  troop  in  order,  and  be  ready  to  move 
forward  at  the  wagging  of  a  finger.  Get  you  gone  to  your  own 
friends,  I  tell  you,  sir  squire,  and  loiter  not  here." 

"Notwithstanding  this  peremptory  order,  Halbert  Glendin- 
ning could  not  help  stopping  to  cast  a  look  upon  the  unfortu- 
nate Catherine,  who  lay  insensible  of  the  danger  and  of  the 
trampling  of  so  many  horses  around  her — insensible,  as  the 
second  glance  assured  him,  of  all  and  for  ever.  Glendinning 
almost  rejoiced  when  he  saw  that  the  last  misery  of  life  was 
over,  and  that  the  hoofs  of  the  war-horses,  amongst  which  he 
was  compelled  to  leave  her,  could  only  injure  and  deface  a 
senseless  corpse.  He  caught  the  infant  from  her  arms,  half- 
ashamed  of  the  shout  of  laughter  which  rose  on  all  sides  at 
seeing  an  armed  man  in  such  a  situation  assume  such  an  un- 
wonted and  inconvenient  burden. 

"  Shoulder  your  infant!"  cried  a  harquebusier. 

"Port  your  infant!"  said  a  pikeman. 

"Peace,  ye  brutes,"  said  Stawarth  Bolton,  "and  respect 
humanity  in  others,  if  you  have  none  yourselves.  I  pardon 
the  lad  having  done  some  discredit  to  my  grey  hairs,  when  I 
see  him  take  care  of  that  helpless  creature,  which  ye  would 
have  trampled  upon  as  if  ye  had  been  littered  of  bitch-wolves, 
not  born  of  women." 

While  this  passed,  the  leaders  on  either  side  met  in  the 
neutral  space  betwixt  the  forces  of  either,  and  the  Earl  ac- 
costed the  English  warden :  "  Is  this  fair  or  honest  usage,  Sir 
John,  or  for  whom  do  you  hold  the  Earl  of  Morton  and  my- 
self, that  you  ride  in  Scotland  with  arrayed  banner,  fight, 
slay,  and  make  prisoners  at  your  own  pleasure?  Is  it  well  done, 
think  you,  to  spoil  our  land  and  shed  our  blood,  after  the 


THE  MONASTERY. 


441 


many  proofs  we  have  given  to  your  mistress  of  our  devotion 
due  to  her  will,  saving  always  the  allegiance  due  to  our  own 
sovereign  ?" 

"My  Lord  of  Murray,"  answered  Foster,  "all  the  world 
knows  you  to  be  a  man  of  quick  ingine  and  deep  wisdom,  and 
these  several  weeks  have  you  held  me  in  hand  with  promising 
to  arrest  my  sovereign  mistress's  rebel,  this  Piercie  Shafton 
of  Wilverton,  and  you  have  never  kept  your  word,  alleging 
turmoils  in  the  west,  and  I  wot  not  what  other  causes  of  hin- 
derance.  Now,  since  he  has  had  the  insolence  to  return 
hither,  and  live  openly  within  ten  miles  of  England,  I  could 
no  longer,  in  plain  duty  to  my  mistress  and  queen,  tarry  upon 
your  successive  delays,  and  therefore  I  have  used  her  force  to 
take  her  rebel,  by  the  strong  hand,  wherever  I  can  find  him. " 

"And  is  Piercie  Shafton  in  your  hands,  then?"  said  the 
Earl  of  Murray.  "  Be  aware  that  I  may  not,  without  my  own 
great  shame,  suffer  you  to  remove  him  hence  without  doing 
battle." 

"  Will  you,  Lord  Earl,  after  all  the  advantages  you  have 
received  at  the  hands  of  the  Queen  of  England,  do  battle  in 
the  cause  of  her  rebel?"  said  Sir  John  Foster. 

"  Not  so,  Sir  John, "  answered  the  Earl,  "  but  I  will  fight 
to  the  death  in  defence  of  the  liberties  of  our  free  kingdom 
of  Scotland." 

.  "  By  my  faith, "  said  Sir  John  Foster,  "  I  am  well  content ; 
my  sword  is  not  blunted  with  all  it  has  done  yet  this  day." 

"  By  my  honour,  Sir  John, "  said  Sir  George  Heron  of  Chip- 
chase,  "  there  is  but  little  reason  we  should  fight  these  Scot- 
tish lords  e'en  now,  for  I  hold  opinion  with  old  Stawarth  Bol- 
ton, and  believe  yonder  prisoner  to  be  no  more  Piercie  Shafton 
than  he  is  the  Earl  of  Northumberland;  and  you  were  but  ill 
advised  to  break  the  peace  betwixt  the  countries  for  a  prisoner 
of  less  consequence  than  that  gay  mischief-maker." 

"Sir  George,"  replied  Foster,  "I  have  often  heard  you 
herons  are  afraid  of  hawks.  Nay,  lay  not  hand  on  sword, 
man — I  did  but  jest;  and  for  this  prisoner,  let  him  be  brought 
up  hithe  ,  that  we  may  see  who  or  what  he  is — always  under 
assurance,  my  lords,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  Scots. 


442 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Upon  our  word  and  honour, "  said  Morton,  "  we  will  offer 

no  violence." 

The  laugh  turned  against  Sir  John  Foster  considerably  when 
the  prisoner,  being  brought  up,  proved  not  only  a  different 
person  from  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  but  a  female  in  man's  attire. 

'•'  Pluck  the  mantle  from  the  quean's  face,  and  cast  her  to 
the  horse-boys,"  said  Foster;  "she  has  kept  such  company 
ere  now,  I  warrant. " 

Even  Murray  was  moved  to  laughter,  no  common  thing  with 
him,  at  the  disappointment  of  the  English  warden;  but  he 
would  not  permit  any  violence  to  be  offered  to  the  fair  Moli- 
nara,  who  had  thus  a  second  time  rescued  Sir  Piercie  Shafton 
at  her  own  personal  risk. 

"  You  have  already  done  more  mischief  than  you  can  well 
answer, "  said  the  Earl  to  the  English  warden,  "  and  it  were 
dishonour  to  me  should  I  permit  you  to  harm  a  hair  of  this 
young  woman's  head." 

"My  lord,"  said  Morton,  "if  Sir  John  will  ride  apart  with 
me  but  for  one  moment,  I  will  show  him  such  reasons  as  shall 
make  him  content  to  depart,  and  to  refer  this  unhappy  day's 
work  to  the  judgment  of  the  commissioners  nominated  to  try 
offences  on  the  Border." 

He  then  led  Sir  John  Foster  aside,  and  spoke  to  him  in 
this  manner :  "  Sir  John  Foster,  I  much  marvel  that  a  man 
who  knows  your  Queen  Elizabeth  as  you  do  should  not  know 
that,  if  you  hope  anything  from  her,  it  must  be  for  doing  her 
useful  service,  not  for  involving  her  in  quarrels  with  her 
neighbours  without  any  advantage.  Sir  knight,  I  will  speak 
frankly  what  I  know  to  be  true.  Had  you  seized  the  true 
Piercie  Shafton  by  this  ill-advised  inroad;  and  had  your  deed 
threatened,  as  most  likely  it  might,  a  breach  betwixt  the 
countries,  your  politic  princess  and  her  politic  council  would 
rather  have  disgraced  Sir  John  Foster  than  entered  into  war 
in  his  behalf.  But  now  that  you  have  stricken  short  of  your 
aim,  you  may  rely  on  it  you  will  have  little  thanks  for  carry- 
ing the  matter  farther.  I  will  work  thus  far  on  the  Earl  of 
Murray  that  he  will  undertake  to  dismiss  Sir  Piercie  Shafton 
from  the  realm  of  Scotland.    Be  well  advised,  and  let  the 


THE  MONASTERY. 


443 


matter  now  pass  off;  you  will  gain  nothing  by  farther  vio- 
lence, for  if  we  fight,  you,  as  the  fewer  and  the  weaker  through 
your  former  action,  will  needs  have  the  worse. " 

Sir  John  Foster  listened  with  his  head  declining  on  his 
breast-plate. 

"  It  is  a  cursed  chance, "  he  said,  "  and  I  shall  have  little 
thanks  for  my  day's  work." 

He  then  rode  up  to  Murray,  and  said  that,  in  deference  to 
his  lordship's  presence  and  that  of  my  Lord  of  Morton,  he  had 
come  to  the  resolution  of  withdrawing  himself,  with  his  power, 
without  farther  proceedings. 

"Stop  there,  Sir  John  Foster,"  said  Murray,  "I  cannot 
permit  you  to  retire  in  safety,  unless  you  leave  some  one  who 
may  be  surety  to  Scotland  that  the  injuries  you  have  at  pres- 
ent done  us  may  be  fully  accounted  for ;  you  will  reflect  that, 
by  permitting  your  retreat,  I  become  accountable  to  my  Sov- 
ereign, who  will  demand  a  reckoning  of  me  for  the  blood  of 
her  subjects,  if  I  suffer  those  who  shed  it  to  depart  so  easily." 

"  It  shall  never  be  told  in  England,"  said  the  warden,  "  that 
John  Foster  gave  pledges  like  a  subdued  man,  and  that  on 
the  very  field  on  which  he  stands  victorious.  But,"  he  added, 
after  a  moment's  pause,  "if  Stawarth  Bolton  wills  to  abide 
with  you  on  his  own  free  choice,  I  will  say  nothing  against 
it;  and,  as  I  bethink  me,  it  were  better  he  should  stay  to  see 
the  dismissal  of  this  same  Piercie  Shafton." 

"I  receive  him  as  your  hostage,  nevertheless,  and  shall 
treat  him  as  such,"  said  the  Earl  of  Murray.  But  Foster, 
turning  away  as  if  to  give  directions  to  Bolton  and  his  men, 
affected  not  to  hear  this  observation. 

"  There  rides  a  faithful  servant  of  his  most  beautiful  and 
sovereign  lady,"  said  Murray  aside  to  Morton.  "Happy 
man !  he  knows  not  whether  the  execution  of  her  commands 
may  not  cost  him  his  head ;  and  yet  he  is  most  certain  that 
to  leave  them  unexecuted  will  bring  disgrace  and  death  with- 
out reprieve.  Happy  are  they  who  are  not  only  subjected  to 
the  caprices  of  Dame  Fortune,  but  held  bound  to  account  and 
be  responsible  for  them,  and  that  to  a  sovereign  as  moody 
and  fickle  as  her  humorous  ladyship  herself!" 


444 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  We  also  have  a  female  sovereign,  my  lord, "  said  Morton. 

"We  have  so,  Douglas/'  said  the  Earl,  with  a  suppressed 
sigh ;  "  but  it  remains  to  be  seen  how  long  a  female  hand  can 
hold  the  reins  of  power  in  a  realm  so  wild  as  ours.  We  will 
now  go  on  to  St.  Mary's,  and  see  ourselves  after  the  state  of 
that  house.  Glendinning,  look  to  that  woman,  and  protect 
her.  What  the  fiend,  man,  hast  thou  got  in  thine  arms?  An 
infant,  as  I  live !  Where  couldst  thou  find  such  a  charge,  at 
such  a  place  and  moment?" 

Halbert  Glendinning  briefly  told  the  story.  The  Earl  rode 
forward  to  the  place  were  the  body  of  Julian  Avenel  lay,  with 
his  unhappy  companion's  arms  wrapt  around  him,  like  the 
trunk  of  an  uprooted  oak  borne  down  by  the  tempest  with  all 
its  ivy  garlands.  Both  were  cold  dead.  Murray  was  touched 
in  an  unwonted  degree,  remembering,  perhaps,  his  own  birth. 
"  What  have  they  to  answer  for,  Douglas, "  he  said,  "  who  thus 
abuse  the  sweetest  gifts  of  affection?" 

The  Earl  of  Morton,  unhappy  in  his  marriage,  was  a  liber- 
tine in  his  amours. 

"  You  must  ask  that  question  of  Henry  Warden,  my  lord, 
or  of  John  Knox:  I  am  but  a  wild  counsellor  in  women's 
matters." 

"Forward  to  St.  Mary's,"  said  the  Earl;  "pass  the  word 
on.  Glendinning,  give  the  infant  to  this  same  female  cava- 
lier, and  let  it  be  taken  charge  of.  Let  no  dishonour  be  done 
to  the  dead  bodies,  and  call  on  the  country  to  bury  or  remove 
them.    Forward,  I  say,  my  masters!" 


CHAPTEE  XXXVII. 

Gone  to  be  married  ? — Gone  to  swear  a  peace ! 

King  John. 

The  news  of  the  lost  battle,  so  quickly  carried  by  the  fugi- 
tives to  the  village  and  convent,  had  spread  the  greatest  alarm 
among  the  inhabitants.  The  sacristan  and  other  monks  coun- 
selled flight ;  the  treasurer  recommended  that  the  church  plate 


THE  MONASTERY. 


445 


should  be  offered  as  a  tribute  to  bribe  the  English  officer ;  the 
abbot  alone  was  unmoved  and  undaunted. 

"My  brethren/'  he  said,  "since  God  has  not  given  our 
people  victory  in  the  combat,  it  must  be  because  He  requires 
of  us,  His  spiritual  soldiers,  to  fight  the  good  fight  of  martyr- 
dom— a  conflict  in  which  nothing  but  our  own  faint-hearted 
cowardice  can  make  us  fail  of  victory.  Let  us  assume,  then, 
the  armour  of  faith,  and  prepare,  if  it  be  necessary,  to  die 
under  the  ruin  of  these  shrines,  to  the  service  of  which  we 
have  devoted  ourselves.  Highly  honoured  are  we  all  in  this 
distinguished  summons,  from  our  dear  brother  Nicolas,  whose 
grey  hairs  have  been  preserved  until  they  should  be  surround- 
ed by  the  crown  of  martyrdom,  down  to  my  beloved  son  Edward, 
who,  arriving  at  the  vineyard  at  the  latest  hour  of  the  day,  is 
yet  permitted  to  share  its  toils  with  those  who  have  laboured 
from  the  morning.  Be  of  good  courage,  my  children.  I  dare 
not,  like  my  sainted  predecessors,  promise  to  you  that  you 
shall  be  preserved  by  miracle ;  I  and  you  are  alike  unworthy 
of  that  especial  interposition,  which,  in  earlier  times,  turned 
the  sword  of  sacrilege  against  the  bosom  of  tyrants  by  whom 
it  was  wielded,  daunted  the  hardened  hearts  of  heretics  with 
prodigies,  and  called  down  hosts  of  angels  to  defend  the  shrine 
of  God  and  of  the  Virgin.  Yet,  by  Heavenly  aid,  you  shall 
this  day  see  that  your  father  and  abbot  will  not  disgrace  the 
mitre  which  sits  upon  his  brow.  Go  to  your  cells,  my  chil- 
dren, and  exercise  your  private  devotions.  Array  yourselves 
also  in  alb  and  cope,  as  for  our  most  solemn  festivals,  and  be 
ready,  when  the  tolling  of  the  largest  bell  announces  the  ap- 
proach of  the  enemy,  to  march  forth  to  meet  them  in  solemn 
procession.  Let  the  church  be  opened  to  afford  such  refuge 
as  may  be  to  those  of  our  vassals  who,  from  their  exertion  in 
this  day's  unhappy  battle  or  other  cause,  are  particularly  ap- 
prehensive of  the  rage  of  the  enemy.  Tell  Sir  Piercie  Shaf- 
ton,  if  he  has  escaped  the  fight  " 

"I  am  here,  most  venerable  abbot,"  replied  Sir  Piercie; 
"  and  if  it  so  seemeth  meet  to  you,  I  will  presently  assemble 
such  of  the  men  as  have  escaped  this  escaramouche,  and  will  re- 
new the  resistance,  even  unto  the  death.    Certes,  you  will  learn 


446 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


from  all  that  I  did  my  part  in  this  unhappy  matter.  Had  it 
pleased  Julian  Avenel  to  have  attended  to  my  counsel,  spe- 
cially in  somewhat  withdrawing  of  his  main  battle,  even  as 
you  may  have  marked  the  heron  eschew  the  stoop  of  the  fal- 
con, receiving  him  rather  upon  his  beak  than  upon  his  wing, 
affairs,  as  I  do  conceive,  might  have  had  a  different  face,  and 
we  might  then,  in  a  more  bellicose  manner,  have  maintained 
that  affray.  Nevertheless,  I  would  not  be  understood  to  speak 
anything  in  disregard  of  Julian  Avenel,  whom  I  saw  fall 
righting  manfully  with  his  face  to  his  enemy,  which  hath 
banished  from  my  memory  the  unseemly  term  of  Meddling 
coxcomb/  with  which  it  pleased  him  something  rashly  to 
qualify  my  advice,  and  for  which,  had  it  pleased  Heaven  and 
the  saints  to  have  prolonged  the  life  of  that  excellent  person, 
I  had  it  bound  upon  my  soul  to  have  put  him  to  death  with 
my  own  hand." 

"  Sir  Piercie, "  said  the  abbot,  at  length  interrupting  him, 
"  our  time  allows  brief  leisure  to  speak  what  might  have  been. " 

"  You  are  right,  most  venerable  lord  and  father, "  replied  the 
incorrigible  Euphuist;  "the  preterite,  as  grammarians  have 
it,  concerns  frail  mortality  less  than  the  future  mood,  and  in- 
deed our  cogitations  respect  chiefly  the  present.  In  a  word, 
I  am  willing  to  head  all  who  will  follow  me,  and  offer  such 
opposition  as  manhood  and  mortality  may  permit  to  the  ad- 
vance of  the  English,  though  they  be  my  own  countrymen ; 
and  be  assured,  Piercie  Shafton  will  measure  his  length,  being 
five  feet  ten  inches,  on  the  ground  as  he  stands,  rather  than 
give  two  yards  in  retreat,  according  to  the  usual  motion  in 
which  we  retrograde." 

"I  thank  you,  sir  knight,"  said  the  abbot,  "and  I  doubt 
not  that  you  would  make  your  words  good ;  but  it  is  not  the 
will  of  Heaven  that  carnal  weapons  should  rescue  us.  We 
are  called  to  endure,  not  to  resist,  and  may  not  waste  the 
blood  of  our  innocent  commons  in  vain.  Fruitless  opposition 
becomes  not  men  of  our  profession :  they  have  my  commands 
to  resign  the  sword  and  the  spear.  God  and  Our  Lady  have 
not  blessed  our  banner." 

"Bethink  you,  reverend  lord,"  said  Piercie  Shafton,  very 


THE  MONASTERY. 


447 


eagerly,  "  ere  you  resign  the  defence  that  is  in  your  power. 
There  are  many  posts  near  the  entry  of  this  village  where 
brave  men  might  live  or  die  to  the  advantage ;  and  I  have 
this  additional  motive  to  make  defence — the  safety,  namely, 
of  a  fair  friend,  who,  I  hope,  hath  escaped  the  hands  of  the 
heretics." 

"  I  understand  you,  Sir  Piercie, "  said  the  abbot ;  "  you  mean 
the  daughter  of  our  convent's  miller?" 

"  Eeverend  my  lord, "  said  Sir  Piercie,  not  without  hesita- 
tion, "  the  fair  Mysinda  is,  as  may  be  in  some  sort  alleged, 
the  daughter  of  one  who  mechanically  prepareth  corn  to  be 
manipulated  into  bread,  without  which  we  could  not  exist, 
and  which  is  therefore  an  employment  in  itself  honourable, 
nay,  necessary.  Nevetheless,  if  the  purest  sentiments  of  a 
generous  mind,  streaming  forth  like  the  rays  of  the  sun  re- 
flected by  a  diamond,  may  ennoble  one  who  is  in  some  sort 
the  daughter  of  a  molendinary  mechanic  " 

"  I  have  no  time  for  all  this,  sir  knight, "  said  the  abbot ; 
"  be  it  enough  to  answer,  that  with  our  will  we  war  no  longer 
with  carnal  weapons.  We  of  the  spirituality  will  teach  you 
of  the  temporality  how  to  die  in  cold  blood,  our  hands  not 
clenched  for  resistance,  but  folded  for  prayer ;  our  minds  not 
filled  with  jealous  hatred,  but  with  Christian  meekness  and 
forgiveness ;  our  ears  not  deafened,  nor  our  senses  confused, 
by  the  sound  of  clamorous  instruments  of  war;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  our  voices  composed  to  Halleluiah,  Kyrie  Eleison, 
and  Salve  Eegina,  and  our  blood  temperate  and  cold,  as  those 
who  think  upon  reconciling  themselves  with  God,  not  of 
avenging  themselves  of  their  fellow-mortals." 

"  Lord  abbot,"  said  Sir  Piercie,  "this  is  nothing  to  the  fate 
of  my  Molinara,  whom,  I  beseech  you  to  observe,  I  will  not 
abandon,  while  golden  hilt  and  steel  blade  bide  together  on 
my  falchion.  I  commanded  her  not  to  follow  us  to  the  field, 
and  yet  methought  I  saw  her  in  her  page's  attire  amongst  the 
rear  of  the  combatants." 

"  You  must  seek  elsewhere  for  the  person  in  whose  fate  you 
are  so  deeply  interested,"  said  the  abbot;  "and  at  present  I 
will  pray  of  your  knighthood  to  inquire  concerning  her  at  the 


448 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


church,  in  which  all  our  more  defenceless  vassals  have  taken 
refuge.  It  is  my  advice  to  you,  that  you  also  abide  by  the 
horns  of  the  altar ;  and,  Sir  Piercie  Shaf ton, "  he  added,  "  be 
of  one  thing  secure,  that  if  you  come  to  harm,  it  will  involve 
the  whole  of  this  brotherhood;  for  never,  I  trust,  will  the 
meanest  of  us  buy  safety  at  the  expense  of  surrendering  a 
friend  or  a  guest.  Leave  us,  my  son,  and  may  God  be  your 
aid!" 

When  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  had  departed,  and  the  abbot  was 
about  to  betake  himself  to  his  own  cell,  he  was  surprised  by 
an  unknown  person  anxiously  requiring  a  conference,  who, 
being  admitted,  proved  to  be  no  other  than  Henry  Warden. 
The  abbot  started  as  he  entered,  and  exclaimed  angrily:  "Ha! 
are  the  few  hours  that  fate  allows  him  who  may  last  wear  the 
mitre  of  this  house  not  to  be  excused  from  the  intrusion  of 
heresy?  Dost  thou  come, "  he  said,  "  to  enjoy  the  hopes  which 
fate  holds  out  to  thy  demented  and  accursed  sect,  to  see  the 
besom  of  destruction  sweep  away  the  pride  of  old  religion — to 
deface  our  shrines — to  mutilate  and  lay  waste  the  bodies  of 
our  benefactors,  as  well  as  their  sepulchres — to  destroy  the 
pinnacles  and  carved  work  of  God's  house  and  Our  Lady's?" 

"Peace,  William  Allan!"  said  the  Protestant  preacher, 
with  dignified  composure ;  "  for  none  of  these  purposes  do  I 
come.  I  would  have  these  stately  shrines  deprived  of  the 
idols  which,  no  longer  simply  regarded  as  the  effigies  of  the 
good  and  the  wise,  have  become  the  objects  of  foul  idolatry. 
I  would  otherwise  have  its  ornaments  subsist,  unless  as  they 
are,  or  may  be,  a  snare  to  the  souls  of  men ;  and  especially  do 
I  condemn  those  ravages  which  have  been  made  by  the  heady 
fury  of  the  people,  stung  into  zeal  against  will-worship  by 
bloody  persecution.  Against  such  wanton  devastations  I  lift 
my  testimony." 

"Idle  distinguisher  that  thou  art!"  said  the  Abbot  Eustace, 
interrupting  him;  "what  signifies  the  pretext  under  which 
thou  dost  despoil  the  house  of  God?  and  why  at  this  present 
emergence  wilt  thou  insult  the  master  of  it  by  thy  ill-omened 
presence?" 

"Thou  art  unjust,  William  Allan,"  said  Warden;  "but  I 


THE  MONASTERY. 


449 


am  not  the  less  settled  in  my  resolution.  Thou  hast  protected 
me  some  time  since  at  the  hazard  of  thy  rank,  and  what  I 
know  thou  holdest  still  dearer,  at  the  risk  of  thy  reputation 
with  thine  own  sect.  Our  party  is  now  uppermost,  and,  be- 
lieve me,  I  have  come  down  the  valley,  in  which  thou  didst 
quarter  me  for  sequestration's  sake,  simply  with  the  wish  to 
keep  my  engagements  to  thee." 

"Ay,"  answered  the  abbot,  "and  it  may  be  that  my  listen- 
ing to  that  worldly  and  infirm  compassion  which  pleaded  with 
me  for  thy  life  is  now  avenged  by  this  impending  judgment. 
Heaven  hath  smitten,  it  may  be,  the  erring  shepherd  and  scat- 
tered the  flock." 

"Think  better  of  the  Divine  judgments,"  said  Warden. 
"  Not  for  thy  sins,  which  are  those  of  thy  blinded  education 
and  circumstances — not  for  thine  own  sins,  William  Allan, 
art  thou  stricken,  but  for  the  accumulated  guilt  which  thy 
misnamed  church  hath  accumulated  on  her  head,  and  those 
of  her  votaries,  by  the  errors  and  corruptions  of  ages." 

"  Now,  by  my  sure  belief  in  the  Kock  of  Peter, "  said  the 
abbot,  "  thou  dost  rekindle  the  last  spark  of  human  indigna- 
tion for  which  my  bosom  has  fuel!  I  thought  I  might  not 
again  have  felt  the  impulse  of  earthly  passion,  and  it  is  thy 
voice  which  once  more  calls  me  to  the  expression  of  human 
anger! — yes,  it  is  thy  voice  that  comest  to  insult  me  in  my 
hour  of  sorrow,  with  these  blasphemous  accusations  of  that 
church  which  hath  kept  the  light  of  Christianity  alive  from 
the  times  of  the  Apostles  till  now." 

"From  the  times  of  the  Apostles?"  said  the  preacher, 
eagerly.  "  Negatur,  Gulielme  Allan,  the  primitive  church 
differed  as  much  from  that  of  Rome  as  did  light  from  dark- 
ness, which,  did  time  permit,  I  should  speedily  prove.  And 
worse  dost  thou  judge  in  saying  I  come  to  insult  thee  in  thy 
hour  of  affliction,  being  here,  God  wot,  with  the  Christian 
wish  of  fulfilling  an  engagement  I  had  made  to  my  host,  and 
of  rendering  myself  to  thy  will  while  it  had  yet  power  to 
exercise  aught  upon  me,  and,  if  it  might  so  be,  to  mitigate  in 
thy  behalf  the  rage  of  the  victors  whom  God  hath  sent  as  a 
scourge  to  thy  obstinacy." 
29 

I 


450 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  I  will  none  of  thy  intercession, "  said  the  abbot,  sternly ; 
"  the  dignity  to  which  the  church  has  exalted  me  never  should 
have  swelled  my  bosom  more  proudly  in  the  time  of  the  high- 
est prosperity  than  it  doth  at  this  crisis.  I  ask  nothing  of 
thee,  but  the  assurance  that  my  lenity  to  thee  hath  been  the 
means  of  perverting  no  soul  to  Satan — that  I  have  not  given 
to  the  wolf  any  of  the  stray  lambs  whom  the  Great  Shepherd 
of  souls  had  entrusted  to  my  charge. " 

"  William  Allan, "  answered  the  Protestant,  "  I  will  be  sin 
cere  with  thee.  What  I  promised  I  have  kept :  I  have  with- 
held my  voice  from  speaking  even  good  things.  But  it  has 
pleased  Heaven  to  call  the  maiden  Mary  Avenel  to  a  better 
sense  of  faith  than  thou  and  all  the  disciples  of  Eome  can 
teach.  Her  I  have  aided  with  my  humble  power :  I  have  ex- 
tricated her  from  the  machinations  of  evil  spirits,  to  which 
she  and  her  house  were  exposed  during  the  blindness  of  their 
Eomish  superstition,  and,  praise  be  to  my  Master!  I  have 
not  reason  to  fear  she  will  again  be  caught  in  thy  snares." 

"Wretched  man!"  said  the  abbot,  unable  to  suppress  his 
rising  indignation,  "  is  it  to  the  abbot  of  St.  Mary's  that  you 
boast  having  misled  the  soul  of  a  dweller  in  Our  Lady's  hali- 
dome  into  the  paths  of  foul  error  and  damning  heresy?  Thou 
dost  urge  me,  Well  wood,  beyond  what  it  becomes  me  to  bear, 
and  movest  me  to  employ  the  few  moments  of  power  I  may 
yet  possess  in  removing  from  the  face  of  the  earth  one  whose 
qualities,  given  by  God,  have  been  so  utterly  perverted  as 
thine  to  the  service  of  Satan." 

"Do  thy  pleasure,"  said  the  preacher;  "thy  vain  wrath 
shall  not  prevent  my  doing  my  duty  to  advantage  thee,  where 
it  may  be  done  without  neglecting  my  higher  call.  I  go  to 
the  Earl  of  Murray." 

Their  conference,  which  was  advancing  fast  into  bitter  dis- 
putation, was  here  interrupted  by  the  deep  and  sullen  toll  of 
the  largest  and  heaviest  bell  of  the  convent — a  sound  famous 
in  the  chronicles  of  the  community  for  dispelling  of  tempests 
and  putting  to  flight  demons,  but  which  now  only  announced 
danger,  without  affording  any  means  of  warding  against  it. 
Hastily  repeating  his  orders  that  all  the  brethren  should  at- 


THE  MONASTERY. 


451 


tend  in  the  choir,  arrayed  for  solemn  procession,  the  abbot 
ascended  to  the  battlements  of  the  lofty  monastery  by  his  own 
private  staircase,  and  there  met  the  sacristan,  who  had  been 
in  the  act  of  directing  the  tolling  of  the  huge  bell,  which  fell 
under  his  duty. 

"  It  is  the  last  time  I  shall  discharge  mine  office,  most  ven- 
erable father  and  lord,"  said  he  to  the  abbot,  "for  yonder 
come  the  Philistines ;  but  I  would  not  that  the  large  bell  of 
St.  Mary's  should  sound  for  the  last  time  otherwise  than  in 
true  and  full  tone.  I  have  been  a  sinful  man  for  one  of  our 
holy  profession,"  added  he,  looking  upward,  "yet  may  I  pre- 
sume to  say,  not  a  bell  hath  sounded  out  of  tune  from  the 
tower  of  the  house  while  Father  Philip  had  the  superintend- 
ence of  the  chime  and  the  belfry." 

The  abbot,  without  reply,  cast  his  eyes  towards  the  path 
which,  winding  around  the  mountain,  descends  upon  Kenna- 
quhair  from  the  southeast.  He  beheld  at  a  distance  a  cloud 
of  dust,  and  heard  the  neighing  of  many  horses,  while  the  oc- 
casional sparkle  of  the  long  line  of  spears,  as  they  came  down- 
wards into  the  valley,  announced  that  the  band  came  thither 
in  arms. 

"Shame  on  my  weakness!"  said  Abbot  Eustace,  dashing 
the  tears  from  his  eyes ;  "  my  sight  is  too  much  dimmed  to 
observe  their  motions.  Look,  my  son  Edward,"  for  his  fa- 
vourite novice  had  again  joined  him,  "  and  tell  me  what  en- 
signs they  bear." 

"They  are  Scottish  men  when  all  is  done,"  exclaimed  Ed- 
ward. "I  see  the  white  crosses:  it  may  be  the  Western 
Borderers,  or  Fernieherst  and  his  clan. " 

"Look  at  the  banner,"  said  the  abbot;  "tell  me  what  are 
the  blazonries?" 

"  The  arms  of  Scotland, "  said  Edward — "  the  lion  and  its 
tressure,  quartered,  as  I  think,  with  three  cushions.  Can  it 
be  the  royal  standard?" 

"Alas!  no,"  said  the  abbot,  "it  is  that  of  the  Earl  of  Mur- 
ray. He  hath  assumed  with  his  new  conquest  the  badge  of 
the  valiant  Randolph,  and  hath  dropped  from  his  hereditary 
coat  the  bend  which  indicates  his  own  base  birth :  would  to 


452 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


God  he  may  not  have  blotted  it  also  from  his  memory, 
and  aim  as  well  at  possessing  the  name  as  the  power  of  a 
king!" 

"At  least,  my  father,"  said  Edward,  "he  will  secure  us 
from  the  violence  of  the  Southron." 

"  Ay,  my  son,  as  the  shepherd  secures  a  silly  lamb  from  the 
wolf,  which  he  destines  in  due  time  to  his  own  banquet.  Oh, 
my  son,  evil  days  are  on  us !  A  breach  has  been  made  in  the 
walls  of  our  sanctuary :  thy  brother  hath  fallen  from  the  faith. 
Such  news  brought  my  last  secret  intelligence.  Murray  has 
already  spoken  of  rewarding  his  services  with  the  hand  of 
Mary  Avenel." 

"Of  Mary  Avenel!"  said  the  novice,  tottering  towards  and 
grasping  hold  of  one  of  the  carved  pinnacles  which  adorned 
the  proud  battlement. 

"Ay,  of  Mary  Avenel,  my  son,  who  has  also  abjured  the 
faith  of  her  fathers.  Weep  not,  my  Edward — weep  not,  my 
beloved  son!  or  weep  for  their  apostasy,  and  not  for  their 
union.  Bless  God,  who  hath  called  thee  to  Himself  out  of 
the  tents  of  wickedness ;  but  for  the  grace  of  Our  Lady  and 
St.  Benedict,  thou  also  hadst  'been  a  castaway. " 

"I  endeavour,  my  father,"  said  Edward — "I  endeavour  to 
forget ;  but  what  I  would  now  blot  from  my  memory  has  been 
the  thought  of  all  my  former  life.  Murray  dare  not  forward 
a  match  so  unequal  in  birth." 

"  He  dares  do  what  suits  his  purpose.  The  Castle  of  Av- 
enel is  strong,  and  needs  a  good  castellan,  devoted  to  his  ser- 
vice ;  as  for  the  difference  of  their  birth,  he  will  mind  it  no 
more  than  he  would  mind  defacing  the  natural  regularity  of 
the  ground,  were  it  necessary  he  should  erect  upon  it  military 
lines  and  intrenchments.  But  do  not  droop  for  that:  awaken 
thy  soul  within  thee,  my  son.  Think  you  part  with  a  vain 
vision,  an  idle  dream,  nursed  in  solitude  and  inaction.  I 
weep  not,  yet  what  am  I  now  like  to  lose?  Look  at  these 
towers,  where  saints  dwelt,  and  where  heroes  have  been  bur- 
ied. Think  that  I,  so  briefly  called  to  preside  over  the  pious 
flock,  which  has  dwelt  here  since  the  first  light  of  Christian- 
ity, may  be  this  day  written  down  the  last  father  of  this  holy 


THE  MONASTERY. 


453 


community.  Come,  let  us  descend  and  meet  our  fate.  1  see 
them  approach  near  to  the  village." 

The  abbot  descended.  The  novice  cast  a  glance  around 
him  •  yet  the  sense  of  the  danger  impending  over  the  stately 
structure,  with  which  he  was  now  united,  was  uuable  to  ban- 
ish the  recollection  of  Mary  Avenel.  "His  brother's  bride!" 
he  pulled  the  cowl  over  his  face,  and  followed  his  superior. 

The  whole  bells  of  the  abbey  now  added  their  peal  to  the 
death-toll  of  the  largest,  which  had  so  long  sounded.  The 
monks  wept  and  prayed  as  they  got  themselves  into  the  or- 
der of  their  procession  for  the  last  time,  as  seemed  but  too 
probable. 

"It  is  well  our  Father  Boniface  hath  retired  to  the  inland," 
said  Father  Philip ;  "he  could  never  have  put  over  this  day, 
it  would  have  broken  his  heart!" 

"God  be  with  the  soul  of  Abbot  Ingelram!"  said  old  Fa- 
ther Nicolas,  "  there  were  no  such  doings  in  his  days.  They 
say  we  are  to  be  put  forth  of  the  cloisters ;  and  how  I  am  to 
live  anywhere  else  than  where  I  have  lived  for  these  seventy 
years,  I  wot  not :  the  best  is,  that  I  have  not  long  to  live  any- 
where." 

A  few  moments  after  this  the  great  gate  of  the  abbey  was 
flung  open,  and  the  procession  moved  slowly  forward  from  be- 
neath its  huge  and  richly  adorned  gateway.  Cross  and  ban- 
ner, pix  and  chalice,  shrines  containing  relics,  and  censers 
steaming  with  incense,  preceded  and  were  intermingled  with 
the  long  and  solemn  array  of  the  brotherhood,  in  their  long 
black  gowns  and  cowls,  with  their  white  scapularies  hanging 
over  them,  the  various  officers  of  the  convent  each  displaying 
his  proper  badge  of  office.  In  the  centre  of  the  procession 
came  the  abbot,  surrounded  and  supported  by  his  chief  assist- 
ants. He  was  dressed  in  his  habit  of  high  solemnity,  and 
appeared  as  much  unconcerned  as  if  he  had  been  taking  his 
usual  part  in  some  ordinary  ceremony.  After  him  came  the 
inferior  persons  of  the  convent — the  novices  in  their  albs  or 
white  dresses,  and  the  lay  brethren  distinguished  by  their 
beards >  which  were  seldom  worn  by  the  fathers.  Women  and 
children,  mixed  with  a  few  men,  came  in  the  rear,  bewailing 


454 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  apprehended  desolation  of  their  ancient  sanctuary.  They 
moved,  however,  in  order,  and  restrained  the  marks  of  their 
sorrow  to  a  low  wailing  sound,  which  rather  mingled  with 
than  interrupted  the  measured  chant  of  the  monks. 

In  this  order  the  procession  entered  the  market-place  of  the 
village  of  Kennaquhair,  which  was  then,  as  now,  distinguished 
by  an  ancient  cross  of  curious  workmanship,  the  gift  of  some 
former  monarch  of  Scotland.  Close  by  the  cross,  of  much 
greater  antiquity,  and  scarcely  less  honoured,  was  an  im- 
mensely large  oak-tree,1  which  perhaps  had  witnessed  the 
worship  of  the  Druids,  ere  the  stately  monastery  to  which 
it  adjoined  had  raised  its  spires  in  honour  of  the  Christian 
faith.  Like  the  bentang-tree  of  the  African  villages,  or  the 
Plaistow  oak  mentioned  in  White's  Natural  History  of  Sel- 
borne,  this  tree  was  the  rendezvous  of  the  villagers,  and  re- 
garded with  peculiar  veneration ;  a  feeling  common  to  most 
nations,  and  which  perhaps  may  be  traced  up  to  the  remote 
period  when  the  patriarch  feasted  the  angels  under  the  oak 
at  Mamre. 

The  monks  formed  themselves  each  in  their  due  place 
around  the  cross,  while  under  the  ruins  of  the  aged  tree 
crowded  the  old  and  the  feeble,  with  others  who  felt  the 
common  alarm.  When  they  had  thus  arranged  themselves, 
there  was  a  deep  and  solemn  pause.  The  monks  stilled  their 
chant,  the  lay  populace  hushed  their  lamentations,  and  all 
awaited  in  terror  and  silence  the  arrival  of  those  heretical 
forces  whom  they  had  been  so  long  taught  to  regard  with 
fear  and  trembling. 

A  distant  trampling  was  at  length  heard,  and  the  glance  of 
spears  was  seen  to  shine  through  the  trees  above  the  village. 
The  sounds  increased,  and  became  more  thick,  one  close  con- 
tinuous rushing  sound,  in  which  the  tread  of  hoofs  was  min- 
gled with  the  ringing  of  armour.  The  horsemen  soon  appeared 
at  the  principal  entrance  which  leads  into  the  irregular  square 
or  market-place  which  forms  the  centre  of  the  village.  They 
entered  two  by  two,  slowly,  and  in  the  greatest  order.  The 

1  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  in  Melrose,  the  prototype  of  Kenna- 
quhair, no  such  oak  ever  existed. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


455 


van  continued  to  move  on,  riding  round  the  open  space,  until 
they  had  attained  the  utmost  point,  and  then  turning  their 
horses'  heads  to  the  street,  stood  fast ;  their  companions  fol- 
lowed in  the  same  order,  until  the  whole  market-place  was 
closely  surrounded  with  soldiers ;  and  the  files  who  followed, 
making  the  same  manoeuvre,  formed  an  inner  line  within  those 
who  had  first  arrived,  until  the  place  was  begirt  with  a  quad- 
druple  file  of  horsemen  closely  drawn  up.  There  was  now  a 
pause,  of  which  the  abbot  availed  himself,  by  commanding  the 
brotherhood  to  raise  the  solemn  chant  De  profundis  clamavi. 
He  looked  around  the  armed  ranks,  to  see  what  impression 
the  solemn  sounds  made  on  them.  All  were  silent ;  but  the 
brows  of  some  had  an  expression  of  contempt,  and  almost  all 
the  rest  bore  a  look  of  indifference :  their  course  had  been  too 
long  decided  to  permit  past  feelings  of  enthusiasm  to  be  anew 
awakened  by  a  procession  or  by  a  hymn. 

"Their  hearts  are  hardened,"  said  the  abbot  to  himself  in 
dejection,  but  not  in  despair ;  "  it  remains  to  see  whether  those 
of  their  leaders  are  equally  obdurate." 

The  leaders,  in  the  mean  while,  were  advancing  slowly,  and 
Murray,  with  Morton,  rode  in  deep  conversation  before  a 
chosen  band  of  their  most  distinguished  followers,  amongst 
whom  came  Halbert  Glendinning.  But  the  preacher,  Henry 
Warden,  who,  upon  leaving  the  monastery,  had  instantly 
joined  them,  was  the  only  person  admitted  to  their  conference. 

"  You  are  determined  then, "  said  Morton  to  Murray,  "  to 
give  the  heiress  of  Avenel,  with  all  her  pretensions,  to  this 
nameless  and  obscure  young  man?" 

"Hath  not  Warden  told  you,"  said  Murray,  "that  they 
have  been  bred  together,  and  are  lovers  from  their  youth  up- 
ward?" 

"And  that  they  are  both,"  said  Warden,  "by  means  which 
may  be  almost  termed  miraculous,  rescued  from  the  delusions 
of  Rome,  and  brought  within  the  pale  of  the  true  church. 
My  residence  at  Glendearg  hath  made  me  well  acquainted 
with  these  things.  Ill  would  it  beseem  my  habit  and  my 
calling  to  thrust  myself  into  match-making  and  giving  in  mar- 
riage, but  worse  were  it  in  me  to  see  your  lordships  do  need- 


456 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


less  wrong  to  the  feelings  which  are  proper  to  our  nature,  and 
which,  being  indulged  honestly  and  under  the  restraints  of 
religion,  become  a  pledge  of  domestic  quiet  here  and  future 
happiness  in  a  better  world.  I  say,  that  you  will  do  ill  to 
rend  those  ties  asunder,  and  to  give  this  maiden  to  the  kins- 
man of  Lord  Morton,  though  Lord  Morton's  kinsman  he  be." 

"  These  are  fair  reasons,  my  Lord  of  Murray, 99  said  Morton, 
"  why  you  should  refuse  me  so  simple  a  boon  as  to  bestow  this 
silly  damsel  upon  young  Bennygask.  Speak  out  plainly,  my 
lord :  say  you  would  rather  see  the  Castle  of  Avenel  in  the 
hands  of  one  who  owes  his  name  and  existence  solely  to  your 
favour  than  in  the  power  of  a  Douglas,  and  of  my  kinsman." 

"My  Lord  of  Morton,"  said  Murray,  "  I  have  done  nothing 
in  this  matter  which  should  aggrieve  you.  This  young  man 
Glendinning  has  done  me  good  service,  and  may  do  me  more. 
My  promise  was  in  some  degree  passed  to  him,  and  that  while 
Julian  Avenel  was  alive,  when  aught  beside  the  maiden's  lily 
hand  would  have  been  hard  to  come  by ;  whereas  you  never 
thought  of  such  an  alliance  for  your  kinsman  till  you  saw 
Julian  lie  dead  yonder  on  the  field,  and  knew  his  land  to  be 
a  waif  free  to  the  first  who  could  seize  it.  Come — come,  my 
lord,  you  do  less  than  justice  to  your  gallant  kinsman  in  wish- 
ing him  a  bride  bred  up  under  the  milk-pail ;  for  this  girl  is 
a  peasant  wench  in  all  but  the  accident  of  birth.  I  thought 
you  had  more  deep  respect  for  the  honour  of  the  Douglasses." 

"The  honour  of  the  Douglasses  is  safe  in  my  keeping," 
answered  Morton,  haughtily;  "that  of  other  ancient  families 
may  surfer  as  well  as  the  name  of  Avenel  if  rustics  are  to  be 
matched  with  the  blood  of  our  ancient  barons. " 

"This  is  but  idle  talking,"  answered  Lord  Murray;  "in 
times  like  these  we  must  look  to  men  and  not  to  pedigrees. 
Hay  was  but  a  rustic  before  the  battle  of  Luncarty :  the  bloody 
yoke  actually  dragged  the  plough  ere  it  was  blazoned  on  a 
crest  by  the  herald.  Times  of  action  make  princes  into  peas- 
ants, and  boors  into  barons.  All  families  have  sprung  from 
some  one  mean  man ;  and  it  is  well  if  they  have  never  degen- 
erated from  his  virtue  who  raised  them  first  from  obscurity." 

"  My  Lord  of  Murray  will  please  to  except  the  house  of 


THE  MONASTERY. 


457 


Douglas, "  said  Morton,  haughtily :  "  men  have  seen  it  in  the 
tree,  but  never  in  the  sapling ;  have  seen  it  in  the  stream,  but 
never  in  the  fountain. 1  In  the  earliest  of  our  Scottish  annals, 
the  Black  Douglas  was  powerful  and  distinguished  as  now." 

"  I  bend  to  the  honours  of  the  house  of  Douglas, "  said  Mur- 
ray, somewhat  ironically ;  "  I  am  conscious  we  of  the  royal 
house  have  little  right  to  compete  with  them  in  dignity. 
What  though  we  have  worn  crowns  and  carried  sceptres  for 
a  few  generations,  if  our  genealogy  moves  no  farther  back 
than  to  the  humble  Alarms  Dapifer  /  "  1 

Morton's  cheek  reddened  as  he  was  about  to  reply;  but 
Henry  Warden  availed  himself  of  the  liberty  which  the  Prot- 
estant clergy  long  possessed,  and  exerted  it  to  interrupt  a 
discussion  which  was  becoming  too  eager  and  personal  to  be 
friendly. 

"  My  lords, "  he  said,  "  I  must  be  bold  in  discharging  the 
duty  of  my  Master.  It  is  a  shame  and  scandal  to  hear  two 
nobles,  whose  hands  have  been  so  forward  in  the  work  of  ref- 
ormation, fall  into  discord  about  such  vain  follies  as  now  oc- 
cupy your  thoughts.  Bethink  you  how  long  you  have  thought 
with  one  mind,  seen  with  one  eye,  heard  with  one  ear,  con- 
firmed by  your  union  the  congregation  of  the  church,  appalled 
by  your  joint  authority  the  congregation  of  Anti-Christ ;  and 
will  you  now  fall  into  discord  about  an  old  decayed  castle  and 
a  few  barren  hills,  about  the  loves  and  likings  of  a  humble 
spearsman  and  a  damsel  bred  in  the  same  obscurity,  or  about 
the  still  vainer  questions  of  idle  genealogy?" 

"  The  good  man  hath  spoken  right,  noble  Douglas, "  said 
Murray,  reaching  him  his  hand,  "our  union  is  too  essential 
to  the  good  cause  to  be  broken  off  upon  such  idle  terms  of 
dissension.  I  am  fixed  to  gratify  Glendinning  in  this,  matter  : 
my  promise  is  passed.  The  wars,  in  which  I  have  had  my 
share,  have  made  many  a  family  miserable;  I  will  at  least 
try  if  I  may  not  make  one  happy.  There  are  maids  and  man- 
ors enow  in  Scotland:  I  promise  you,  my  noble  ally,  that 
young  Bennygask  shall  be  richly  wived." 

1  See  Pedigree  of  the  Douglas  Family.    Note  23. 

2  See  Pedigree  of  the  Stuart  Family.    Note  24. 


458 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"My  lord,"  said  Warden,  "you  speak  nobly,  and  like  a 
Christian.  Alas !  this  is  a  land  of  hatred  and  bloodshed ;  let 
us  not  chase  from  thence  the  few  traces  that  remain  of  gentle 
and  domestic  love.  And  be  not  too  eager  for  wealth  to  thy 
noble  kinsman,  my  Lord  of  Morton,  seeing  contentment  in 
the  marriage  state  no  way  depends  on  it." 

"If  you  allude  to  my  family  misfortune,"  said  Morton, 
whose  countess,  wedded  by  him  for  her  estate  and  honours, 
was  insane  in  her  mind,  "  the  habit  you  wear,  and  the  liberty, 
or  rather  license,  of  your  profession,  protect  you  from  my 
resentment. " 

"  Alas !  my  lord, "  replied  Warden,  "  how  quick  and  sensi- 
tive is  our  self-love!  When,  pressing  forward  in  our  high 
calling,  we  point  out  the  errors  of  the  sovereign,  who  praises 
our  boldness  more  than  the  noble  Morton?  But  touch  we 
upon  his  own  sore,  which  most  needs  lancing,  and  he  shrinks 
from  the  faithful  chirurgeon  in  fear  and  impatient  anger!" 

"  Enough  of  this,  good  and  reverend  sir, "  said  Murray ;  "  you 
transgress  the  prudence  yourself  recommended  even  now.  We 
are  now  close  upon  the  village,  and  the  proud  abbot  is  come 
forth  at  the  head  of  his  hive.  Thou  hast  pleaded  well  for 
him,  Warden,  otherwise  I  had  taken  this  occasion  to  pull 
down  the  nest  and  chase  away  the  rooks." 

"  Nay,  but  do  not  so, "  said  Warden ;  "  this  William  Allan, 
whom  they  call  the  Abbot  Eustatius,  is  a  man  whose  misfor- 
tunes would  more  prejudice  our  cause  than  his  prosperity. 
You  cannot  inflict  more  than  he  will  endure ;  and  the  more 
that  he  is  made  to  bear,  the  higher  will  be  the  influence  of  his 
talents  and  his  courage.  In  his  conventual  throne  he  will  be 
but  coldly  looked  on — disliked,  it  may  be,  and  envied.  But 
turn  his  crucifix  of  gold  into  a  crucifix  of  wood ;  let  him  travel 
through  the  land,  an  oppressed  and  impoverished  man,  and 
his  patience,  his  eloquence,  and  learning  will  win  more  hearts 
from  the  good  cause  than  all  the  mitred  abbots  of  Scotland 
have  been  able  to  make  prey  of  during  the  last  hundred  years." 

"Tush!— tush!  man,"  said  Morton,  "the  revenues  of  the 
halidome  will  bring  more  men,  spears,  and  horses  into  the 
field  in  one  day  than  his  preaching  in  a  whole  lifetime. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


459 


These  are  not  the  days  of  Peter  the  Hermit,  when  monks 
could  march  armies  from  England  to  Jerusalem;  but  gold 
and  good  deeds  will  still  do  as  much  or  more  than  ever.  Had 
Julian  Avenel  had  but  a  score  or  two  more  men  this  morn- 
ing, Sir  John  Foster  had  not  missed  a  worse  welcome.  I 
say,  confiscating  the  monk's  revenues  is  drawing  his  fang- 
teeth." 

"  We  will  surely  lay  him  under  contribution, "  said  Murray ; 
"  and,  moreover,  if  he  desires  to  remain  in  his  abbey,  he  will 
do  well  to  produce  Piercie  Shafton." 

As  he  thus  spoke,  they  entered  the  market-place,  distin- 
guished by  their  complete  armour  and  their  lofty  plumes,  as 
well  as  by  the  number  of  followers  bearing  their  colours  and 
badges.  Both  these  powerful  nobles,  but  more  especially 
Murray,  so  nearly  allied  to  the  crown,  had  at  that  time  a 
retinue  and  household  not  much  inferior  to  that  of  Scottish 
royalty.  As  they  advanced  into  the  market-place,  a  pursui- 
vant, passing  forward  from  their  train,  addressed  the  monks 
in  these  words :  "  The  abbot  of  St.  Mary's  is  commanded  to 
appear  before  the  Earl  of  Murray." 

"The  abbot  of  St.  Mary's,"  said  Eustace,  "is,  in  the  patri- 
mony of  his  convent,  superior  to  every  temporal  lord.  Let 
the  Earl  of  Murray,  if  he  seeks  him,  come  himself  to  his 
presence. " 

On  receiving  this  answer,  Murray  smiled  scornfully,  and 
dismounting  from  his  lofty  saddle,  he  advanced,  accompanied 
by  Morton,  and  followed  by  others,  to  the  body  of  monks 
assembled  around  the  cross.  There  was  an  appearance  of 
shrinking  among  them  at  the  approach  of  the  heretic  lord,  so 
dreaded  and  so  powerful.  But  the  abbot,  casting  on  them  a 
glance  of  rebuke  and  encouragement,  stepped  forth  from  their 
ranks  like  a  courageous  leader,  when  he  sees  that  his  personal 
valour  must  be  displayed  to  revive  the  drooping  courage  of 
his  followers.  "Lord  James  Stuart,"  he  said,  "or  Earl  of 
Murray,  if  that  be  thy  title,  I,  Eustatius,  abbot  of  St.  Mary's, 
demand  by  what  right  you  have  filled  our  peaceful  village, 
and  surrounded  our  brethren,  with  these  bands  of  armed  men? 
If  hospitality  is  sought,  we  have  never  refused  it  to  courteous 


460 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


asking ;  if  violence  be  meant  against  peaceful  churchmen,  let 
us  know  at  once  the  pretext  and  the  object?7' 

"  Sir  abbot,"  said  Murray,  "your  language  would  better 
have  become  another  age,  and  a  presence  inferior  to  ours. 
We  come  not  here  to  reply  to  your  interrogations,  but  to  de- 
mand of  you  why  you  have  broken  the  peace,  collecting  your 
vassals  in  arms,  and  convocating  the  Queen's  lieges,  where- 
by many  men  have  been  slain,  and  much  trouble,  perchance 
breach  of  amity  with  England,  is  likely  to  arise?" 

"Lupus  infabula,"  answered  the  abbot,  scornfully.  "  The 
wolf  accused  the  sheep  of  muddying  the  stream  when  he  drank 
in  it  above  her;  but  it  served  as  a  pretext  for  devouring  her. 
Convocate  the  Queen's  lieges?  I  did  so  to  defend  the  Queen's 
land  against  foreigners.  I  did  But  my  duty ;  and  I  regret  I 
had  not  the  means  to  do  it  more  effectually." 

"  And  was  it  also  a  part  of  your  duty  to  receive  and  harbour 
the  Queen  of  England's  rebel  and  traitor ;  and  to  inflame  a  war 
betwixt  England  and  Scotland?"  said  Murray. 

"  In  my  younger  days,  my  lord, "  answered  the  abbot,  with 
the  same  intrepidity,  "a  war  with  England  was  no  such 
dreaded  matter;  and  not  merely  a  mitred  abbot,  bound  by 
his  rule  to  show  hospitality  and  afford  sanctuary  to  all,  but 
the  poorest  Scottish  peasant,  would  have  been  ashamed  to 
have  pleaded  fear  of  England  as  the  reason  for  shutting  his 
door  against  a  persecuted  exile.  But  in  those  olden  days  the 
English  seldom  saw  the  face  of  a  Scottish  nobleman,  save 
through  the  bars  of  his  visor." 

"Monk!"  said  the  Earl  of  Morton,  sternly,  "this  insolence 
will  little  avail  thee;  the  days  are  gone  by  when  Rome's 
priests  were  permitted  to  brave  noblemen  with  impunity. 
Give  us  up  this  Piercie  Shafton,  or  by  my  father's  crest  I 
will  set  thy  abbey  in  a  bright  flame!" 

"  And  if  thou  dost,  Lord  of  Morton,  its  ruins  will  tumble 
above  the  tombs  of  thine  own  ancestors.  Be  the  issue  as 
God  wills,  the  abbot  of  St.  Mary's  gives  up  no  one  whom  he 
hath  promised  to  protect. " 

"Abbot,"  said  Murray,  "bethink  thee  ere  we  are  driven  to 
deal  roughly.    The  hands  of  these  men,"  he  said,  pointing 


THE  MONASTERY. 


461 


to  the  soldiers,  "will  make  wild  work  among  shrines  and 
cells,  if  we  are  compelled  to  undertake  a  search  for  this  Eng- 
lishman. " 

"  Ye  shall  not  need, "  said  a  voice  from  the  crowd ;  and,  ad- 
vancing gracefully  before  the  earls,  the  Euphuist  flung  from 
him  the  mantle  in  which  he  was  muffled. 

"  Via  the  cloud  that  shadowed  Shafton!"  said  he:  "behold, 
my  lords,  the  knight  of  Wilverton,  who  spares  you  the  guilt 
of  violence  and  sacrilege." 

"  I  protest  before  God  and  man  against  any  infraction  of 
the  privileges  of  this  house,"  said  the  abbot,  "by  an  attempt 
to  impose  violent  hands  upon  the  person  of  this  noble  knight. 
If  there  be  yet  spirit  in  a  Scottish  Parliament,  we  will  make 
you  hear  of  this  elsewhere,  my  lords!" 

"  Spare  your  threats, "  said  Murray ;  "  it  may  be  my  pur- 
pose with  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  is  not  such  as  thou  dost  sup- 
pose. Attach  him,  pursuivant,  as  our  prisoner,  rescue  or  no 
rescue." 

"  I  yield  myself, "  said  the  Euphuist,  "  reserving  my  right 
to  defy  my  Lord  of  Murray  and  my  Lord  of  Morton  to  single 
duel,  even  as  one  gentleman  may  demand  satisfaction  of  an- 
other." 

"  You  shall  not  want  those  who  will  answer  your  challenge, 
sir  knight,"  replied  Morton,  "without  aspiring  to  men  above 
thine  own  degree." 

"And  where  am  I  to  find  these  superlative  champions," 
said  the  English  knight,  "  whose  blood  runs  more  pure  than 
that  of  Piercie  Shafton?" 

"  Here  is  a  flight  for  you,  my  lord!"  said  Murray. 

"As  ever  was  flown  by  a  wild  goose,"  said  Stawarth  Bolton, 
who  had  now  approached  to  the  front  of  the  party. 

"Who  dared  to  say  that  word?"  said  the  Euphuist,  his  face 
crimson  with  rage. 

"  Tut !  man, "  said  Bolton,  "  make  the  best  of  it,  thy  moth- 
er's  father  was  but  a  tailor,  old  Over  stitch  of  Holderness. 
Why,  what!  because  thou  art  a  misproud  bird,  and  despisest 
thine  own  natural  lineage,  and  ruiflest  in  unpaid  silks  and 
velvets,  and  keepest  company  with  gallants  and  cutters,  must 


462 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


we  lose  our  memory  for  that?  Thy  mother,  Moll  Over  stitch, 
was  the  prettiest  wench  in  those  parts ;  she  was  wedded  by 
wild  Shafton  of  Wilverton,  who,  men  say,  was  akin  to  the 
Piercie  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  blanket." 

"  Help  the  knight  to  some  strong  waters, "  said  Morton ; 
"  he  hath  fallen  from  such  a  height  that  he  is  stunned  with 
the  tumble." 

In  fact,  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  looked  like  a  man  stricken  by 
a  thunderbolt,  while,  notwithstanding  the  seriousness  of  the 
scene  hitherto,  no  one  of  those  present,  not  even  the  abbot 
himself,  could  refrain  from  laughing  at  the  rueful  and  morti- 
fied expression  of  his  face. 

"Laugh  on,"  he  said  at  length — "laugh  on,  my  masters," 
shrugging  his  shoulders ;  "  it  is  not  for  me  to  be  offended : 
yet  would  I  know  full  fain  from  that  squire  who  is  laughing 
with  the  loudest  how  he  had  discovered  this  unhappy  blot  in 
an  otherwise  spotless  lineage,  and  for  what  purpose  he  hath 
made  it  known?" 

"/make  it  known?"  said  Halbert  Glendinning,  in  astonish- 
ment, for  to  him  this  pathetic  appeal  was  made.  "  I  never 
heard  the  thing  till  this  moment. "  1 

"Why,  did  not  that  old  rude  soldier  learn  it  from  thee?" 
said  the  knight,  in  increasing  amazement. 

"Not  I,  by  Heaven!"  said  Bolton;  "I  never  saw  the  youth 
in  my  life  before." 

"  But  you  have  seen  him  ere  now,  my  worthy  master,"  said 
Dame  Glendinning,  bursting  in  her  turn  from  the  crowd. 
"My  son,  this  is  Stawarth  Bolton,  he  to  whom  we  owe  life 
and  the  means  of  preserving  it ;  if  he  be  prisoner,  as  seems 
most  likely,  use  thine  interest  with  these  noble  lords  to  be 
kind  to  the  widow's  friend." 

"  What,  my  Dame  of  the  Glen!"  said  Bolton,  "thy  brow  is 
more  withered,  as  well  as  mine,  since  we  met  last,  but  thy 
tongue  holds  the  touch  better  than  my  arm.  This  boy  of 
thine  gave  me  the  foil  sorely  this  morning.  The  brown  varlet 
has  turned  as  stout  a  trooper  as  I  prophesied;  and  where  is 
white  head?" 

1  See  The  White  Spirit.   Note  25. 


THE  MONASTERY. 


463 


"Alas!"  said  the  mother,  looking  down,  " Edward  has 
taken  orders,  and  become  a  monk  of  this  abbey." 

"  A  monk  and  a  soldier !  Evil  trades  both,  my  good  dame. 
Better  have  made  one  a  good  master  fashioner,  like  old  Over- 
stitch  of  Holderness.  I  sighed  when  I  envied  you  the  two 
bonny  children,  but  I  sigh  not  now  to  call  either  the  monk  or 
the  soldier  mine  own.  The  soldier  dies  in  the  field ;  the  monk 
scarce  lives  in  the  cloister. " 

44  My  dearest  mother,"  said  Halbert,  "  where  is  Edward? 
Can  I  not  speak  with  him?" 

"He  has  just  left  us  for  the  present,"  said  Father  Philip, 
"upon  a  message  from  the  lord  abbot." 

"And  Mary,  my  dearest  mother?"  said  Halbert.  Mary 
Avenel  was  not  far  distant,  and  the  three  were  soon  with- 
drawn from  the  crowd,  to  hear  and  relate  their  various  chances 
of  fortune. 

While  the  subordinate  personages  thus  disposed  of  them- 
selves, the  abbot  held  serious  discussion  with  the  two  earls, 
and,  partly  yielding  to  their  demands,  partly  defending  him- 
self with  skill  and  eloquence,  was  enabled  to  make  a  compo- 
sition for  his  convent,  which  left  it  provisionally  in  no  worse 
situation  than  before.  The  earls  were  the  more  reluctant  to 
drive  matters  to  extremity,  since  he  protested  that,  if  urged 
beyond  what  his  conscience  would  comply  with,  he  would 
throw  the  whole  lands  of  the  monastery  into  the  Queen  of 
Scotland's  hands,  to  be  disposed,  of  at  her  pleasure.  This 
would  not  have  answered  the  views  of  the  earls,  who  were 
contented,  for  the  time,  with  a  moderate  sacrifice  of  money 
and  lands.  Matters  being  so  far  settled,  the  abbot  became 
anxious  for  the  fate  of  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  and  implored 
mercy  in  his  behalf. 

"  He  is  a  coxcomb, "  he  said,  "  my  lords,  but  he  is  a  gener- 
ous, though  a  vain,  fool ;  and  it  is  my  firm  belief  you  have 
this  day  done  him  more  pain  than  if  you  had  run  a  poniard 
into  him." 

"  Run  a  needle  into  him  you  mean,  abbot, "  said  the  Earl  of 
Morton;  "by  mine  honour,  I  thought  this  grandson  of  a  fash- 
ioner of  doublets  was  descended  from  a  crowned  head  at  least!" 


464 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"I  hold  with  the  abbot,"  said  Murray;  " there  were  little 
honour  in  surrendering  him  to  Elizabeth,  but  he  shall  be  sent 
where  he  can  do  her  no  injury.  Our  pursuivant  and  Bolton 
shall  escort  him  to  Dunbar,  and  ship  him  off  for  Flanders. 
But  soft,  here  he  comes,  and  leading  a  female,  as  I  think." 

"  Lords  and  others, "  said  the  English  knight,  with  great 
solemnity,  "make  way  for  the  lady  of  Piercie  Shafton — a 
secret  which  I  listed  not  to  make  known,  till  fate,  which  hath 
betrayed  what  I  vainly  strove  to  conceal,  makes  me  less  desir- 
ous to  hide  that  which  I  now  announce  to  you." 

"It  is  Mysie  Happer,  the  miller's  daughter,  on  my  life!" 
said  Tibb  Tacket.  "  I  thought  the  pride  of  these  Piercies 
would  have  a  fa'." 

"  It  is  indeed  the  lovely  Mysinda, "  said  the  knight,  "  whose 
merits  towards  her  devoted  servant  deserved  higher  rank  than 
he  had  to  bestow. " 

"I  suspect,  though,"  said  Murray,  "that  we  should  not 
have  heard  of  the  miller's  daughter  being  made  a  lady  had 
not  the  knight  proved  to  be  the  grandson  of  a  tailor. " 

"My  lord,"  said  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  "it  is  poor  valour  to 
strike  him  that  cannot  smite  again ;  and  I  hope  you  will  con- 
sider what  is  due  to  a  prisoner  by  the  law  of  arms,  and  say 
nothing  more  on  this  odious  subject.  When  I  am  once  more 
mine  own  man,  I  will  find  a  new  road  to  dignity." 

"  Shape  one,  I  presume, "  said  the  Earl  of  Morton. 

"Nay,  Douglas,  you  will  drive  him  mad,"  said  Murray; 
"  besides,  we  have  other  matter  in  hand.  I  must  see  Warden 
wed  Glendinning  with  Mary  Avenel,  and  put  him  in  posses- 
sion of  his  wife's  castle  without  delay.  It  will  be  best  done 
ere  our  forces  leave  these  parts." 

"And  I,"  said  the  miller,  "have  the  like  grist  to  grind;  for 
I  hope  some  one  of  the  good  fathers  will  wed  my  wench  with 
her  gay  bridegroom." 

"It  needs  not,"  said  Shafton;  "the  ceremonial  hath  been 
solemnly  performed." 

"  It  will  not  be  the  worse  of  another  bolting, "  said  the 
miller ;  "  it  is  always  best  to  be  sure,  as  I  say  when  I  chance 
to  take  multure  twice  from  the  same  meal-sack." 


THE  MONASTERY. 


465 


"  Stave  the  miller  off  him, "  said  Murray,  "  or  he  will  worry 
him  dead.  The  abbot,  my  lord,  offers  us  the  hospitality  of 
the  convent;  I  move  we  should  repair  hither,  Sir  Piercie  and 
all  of  us.  I  must  learn  to  know  the  Maid  of  Avenel;  to-mor- 
row I  must  act  as  her  father.  All  Scotland  shall  see  how 
Murray  can  reward  a  faithful  servant." 

Mary  Avenel  and  her  lover  avoided  meeting  the  abbot,  and 
took  up  their  temporary  abode  in  a  house  of  the  village,  where 
next  day  their  hands  were  united  by  the  Protestant  preacher 
in  presence  of  the  two  earls.  On  the  same  day  Piercie  Shaf- 
ton  and  his  bride  departed,  under  an  escort  which  was  to  con- 
duct him  to  the  seaside,  and  see  him  embark  for  the  Low 
Countries.  Early  on  the  following  morning  the  bands  of  the 
earls  were  under  march  to  the  Castle  of  Avenel,  to  invest  the 
young  bridegroom  with  the  property  of  his  wife,  which  was 
surrendered  to  them  without  opposition. 

But  not  without  those  omens  which  seemed  to  mark  every 
remarkable  event  which  befell  the  fated  family  did  Mary  take 
possession  of  the  ancient  castle  of  her  forefathers.  The  same 
warlike  form  which  had  appeared  more  than  once  at  Glen- 
dearg  was  seen  by  Tibb  Tacket  and  Martin,  who  returned 
with  their  young  mistress  to  partake  her  altered  fortunes.  It 
glided  before  the  cavalcade  as  they  advanced  upon  the  long 
causeway,  paused  at  each  drawbridge,  and  flourished  its  hand, 
as  in  triumph,  as  it  disappeared  under  the  gloomy  archway, 
which  was  surmounted  by  the  insignia  of  the  house  of  Ave- 
nel. The  two  trusty  servants  made  their  vision  only  known 
to  Dame  Glendinning,  who,  with  much  pride  of  heart,  had 
accompanied  her  son  to  see  him  take  his  rank  among  the 
barons  of  the  land.  "Oh,  my  dear  bairn!"  she  exclaimed, 
when  she  heard  the  tale,  "  the  castle  is  a  grand  place  to  be 
sure,  but  I  wish  ye  dinna  a?  desire  to  be  back  in  the  quiet 
braes  of  Glendearg  before  the  play  be  played  out."  But 
this  natural  reflection,  springing  from  maternal  anxiety,  was 
soon  forgotten  amid  the  busy  and  pleasing  task  of  examining 
and  admiring  the  new  habitation  of  her  son. 

While  these  affairs  were  passing,  Edward  had  hidden  him- 
self and  his  sorrows  in  the  paternal  Tower  of  Glendearg,  where 
30 


466  WAVEJRLEY  NOVELS. 

every  object  was  full  of  matter  for  bitter  reflection.  The  ab- 
bot's kindness  had  despatched  him  thither  upon  pretence  of 
placing  some  papers  belonging  to  the  abbey  in  safety  and  se- 
crecy; but  in  reality  to  prevent  his  witnessing  the  triumph 
of  his  brother.  Through  the  deserted  apartments,  the  scene 
of  so  many  bitter  reflections,  the  unhappy  youth  stalked  like  a 
discontented  ghost,  conjuring  up  around  him  at  every  step  new 
subjects  for  sorrow  and  for  self -torment.  Impatient  at  length 
of  the  state  of  irritation  and  agonised  recollection  in  which  he 
found  himself,  he  rushed  out  and  walked  hastily  up  the  glen,  as 
if  to  shake  off  the  load  which  hung  upon  his  mind.  The  sun 
was  setting  when  he  reached  the  entrance  of  Corrie-nan-Shian, 
and  the  recollection  of  what  he  had  seen  when  he  last  visited 
that  haunted  ravine  burst  on  his  mind.  He  was  in  a  humour, 
however,  rather  to  seek  out  danger  than  to  avoid  it. 

"I  will  face  this  mystic  being/'  he  said;  "she  foretold  the 
fate  which  has  wrapped  me  in  this  dress ;  I  will  know  wheth- 
er she  has  aught  else  to  tell  me  of  a  life  which  cannot  but  be 
miserable. " 

He  failed  not  to  see  the  "White  Spirit  seated  by  her  accus- 
tomed haunt,  and  singing  in  her  usual  low  and  sweet  tone. 
While  she  sung  she  seemed  to  look  with  sorrow  on  her  golden 
zone,  which  was  now  diminished  to  the  fineness  of  a  silken 
thread. 

"  Fare  thee  well,  thou  holly  green ! 
Thou  shalt  seldom  now  be  seen, 
With  all  thy  glittering  garlands  bending 
As  to  greet  my  slow  descending, 
Startling  the  bewilder' d  hind, 
Who  sees  thee  wave  without  a  wind. 

Farewell,  fountain  !  now  not  long 
Shalt  thou  murmur  to  my  song, 
While  thy  crystal  bubbles,  glancing, 
Keep  the  time  in  mystic  dancing, 
Rise  and  swell,  are  burst  and  lost, 
Like  mortal  schemes  by  fortune  crost. 

The  knot  of  fate  at  length  is  tied, 
The  churl  is  lord,  the  maid  is  bride. 
Vainly  did  my  magic  sleight 
Send  the  lover  from  her  sight ; 
Wither  bush,  and  perish  well, 
Fall'n  is  lofty  Avenel !  " 


THE  MONASTERY. 


467 


The  Vision  seemed  to  weep  while  she  sung;  and  the  words 
impressed  on  Edward  a  melancholy  belief  that  the  alliance  of 
Mary  with  his  brother  might  be  fatal  to  them  both. 


Here  terminates  the  First  Part  of  the  Benedictine's  Manu- 
script. I  have  in  vain  endeavoured  to  ascertain  the  precise 
period  of  the  story,  as  the  dates  cannot  be  exactly  reconciled 
with  those  of  the  most  accredited  histories.  But  it  is  aston- 
ishing how  careless  the  writers  of  Utopia  are  upon  these  im- 
portant subjects.  I  observe  that  the  learned  Mr.  Laurence 
Templeton,  in  his  late  publication,  entitled  Ivanhoe,  has  not 
only  blessed  the  bed  of  Edward  the  Confessor  with  an  off- 
spring unknown  to  history,  with  sundry  other  solecisms  of 
the  same  kind,  but  has  inverted  the  order  of  nature,  and 
feasted  his  swine  with  acorns  in  the  midst  of  summer.  All 
that  can  be  alleged  by  the  warmest  admirer  of  this  Author 
amounts  to  this,  that  the  circumstances  objected  to  are  just  as 
true  as  the  rest  of  the  story ;  which  appears  to  me,  more  es- 
pecially in  the  matter  of  the  acorns,  to  be  a  very  imperfect 
defence,  and  that  the  Author  will  do  well  to  profit  by  Captain 
Absolute's  advice  to  his  servant,  and  never  tell  him  more  lies 
than  are  indispensably  necessary. 


NOTES  TO  THE  MONASTERY. 


Note  1. — Church  Tenants,  p.v60. 

[Feus  are]  small  possessions  conferred  upon  vassals  and  their  heirs, 
held  for  a  small  quit-rent,  or  a  moderate  proportion  of  the  produce.  This 
was  a  favourite  manner  by  which  the  churchmen  peopled  the  patrimony 
of  their  convents;  and  many  descendants  of  such  "feuars,"  as  they  are 
called,  are  still  to  be  found  in  possession  of  their  family  inheritances  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  great  monasteries  of  Scotland. 

Note  2. — Gallantry,  p.  70. 

As  gallantry  of  all  times  and  nations  has  the  same  mode  of  thinking  and 
acting,  so  it  often  expresses  itself  by  the  same  symbols.  In  the  civil  war, 
1745-46,  a  party  of  Highlanders,  under  a  chieftain  of  rank,  came  to  Rose 
Castle,  the  seat  of  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle,  but  then  occupied  by  the  family 
of  Squire  Dacre  of  Cumberland.  They  demanded  quarters,  which  of  course 
were  not  to  be  refused  to  armed  men  of  a  strange  attire  and  unknown 
language.  But  the  domestic  represented  to  the  captain  of  the  mountaineers 
that  the  lady  of  the  mansion  had  been  just  delivered  of  a  daughter,  and 
expressed  her  hope  that,  under  these  circumstances,  his  party  would  give 
as  little  trouble  as  possible.  "  God  forbid,"  said  the  gallant  chief,  "that  I 
or  mine  should  be  the  means  of  adding  to  a  lady's  inconvenience  at  such  a 
time.  May  I  request  to  see  the  infant?  "  The  child  was  brought,  and  the 
Highlander,  taking  his  cockade  out  of  his  bonnet,  and  pinning  it  on  the 
child's  breast,  "  That  will  be  a  token,"  he  said,  u  to  any  of  our  people  who 
may  come  hither  that  Donald  M'Donald  of  Kinloch-Moidart  has  taken  the 
family  of  Rose  Castle  under  his  protection."  The  lady  who  received  in 
infancy  this  gage  of  Highland  protection  is  now  Mary,  Lady  Clerk  of 
Pennycuik  ;  and  on  the  10th  of  June  still  wears  the  cockade  which  was 
pinned  on  her  breast,  with  a  white  rose  as  a  kindred  decoration. 

Note  3. — Good  Neighbours,  p.  77. 

This  superstition  continues  to  prevail,  though  one  would  suppose  it  must 
now  be  antiquated.  It  is  only  a  year  or  two  since  an  itinerant  puppet  show- 
man, who,  disdaining  to  acknowledge  the  profession  of  Gines  de  Passa- 
monte,  called  himself  an  artist  from  Vauxhall,  brought  a  complaint  of  a 
singular  nature  before  the  Author,  as  sheriff  of  Selkirkshire.  The  remark- 
able dexterity  with  which  the  showman  had  exhibited  the  machinery  of 
his  little  stage  had,  upon  a  Selkirk  fair-day,  excited  the  eager  curiosity  of 
;  some  mechanics  of  Galashiels.  These  men,  from  no  worse  motive  that 
could  be  discovered  than  a  thirst  after  knowledge  beyond  their  sphere, 


470 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


committed  a  burglary  upon  the  barn  in  which  the  puppets  had  been 
consigned  to  repose,  and  carried  them  off  in  the  nook  of  their  plaids,  when 
returning  from  Selkirk  to  their  own  village. 

But  with  the  morning  cool  reflection  came. 

The  party  found,  however,  they  could  not  make  Punch  dance,  and  that 
the  whole  troop  were  equally  intractable ;  they  had  also,  perhaps,  some 
apprehensions  of  the  Rhadamanth  of  the  district ;  and  willing  to  be  quit  of 
their  booty,  they  left  the  puppets  seated  in  a  grove  by  the  side  of  the 
Ettrick,  where  they  were  sure  to  be  touched  by  the  first  beams  of  the  rising 
sun.  Here  a  shepherd,  who  was  on  foot  with  sunrise  to  pen  his  master's 
sheep  on  a  field  of  turnips,  to  his  utter  astonishment,  saw  this  train,  pro- 
fusely gay,  sitting  in  the  little  grove.    His  examination  proceeded  thus  : 

Sheriff.  You  saw  these  gay -looking  things?  what  did  you  think  they 
were? 

Shepherd.  Ou,  I  am  no  that  free  to  say  what  I  might  think  they  were. 
Sheriff.  Come,  lad,  I  must  have  a  direct  answer — who  did  you  think 
they  were  ? 

Shepherd.  Ou,  sir,  troth  I  am  no  that  free  to  say  that  I  mind  wha  I 
might  think  they  were. 

Sheriff.  Come,  come,  sir !  I  ask  you  directly,  did  you  think  they  were 
the  fairies  you  saw  ? 

Shepherd.  Indeed,  sir,  and  I  winna  say  but  I  might  think  it  was  the 
good  neighbours. 

Thus  unwillingly  was  he  brought  to  allude  to  the  irritable  and  captious 
inhabitants  of  fairyland. 

Note  4. — Drawbridge  at  Bridge-end,  p.  99. 

A  bridge  of  the  very  peculiar  construction  described  in  the  text  actually 
existed  at  a  small  hamlet  about  a  mile  and  a  half  above  Melrose,  called 
from  the  circumstance  Bridge-end.    It  is  thus  noticed  in  Gordon's  Iter 

Septentrionale  : 

M  In  another  journey  through  the  south  parts  of  Scotland,  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  from  Melrose,  in  the  shire  of  Teviotdale,  I  saw  the  remains  of  a 
curious  bridge  over  the  river  Tweed,  consisting  of  three  octangular  pillars, 
or  rather  towers,  standing  within  the  water,  without  any  arches  to  join 
them.  The  middle  one,  which  is  the  most  entire,  has  a  door  towards  the 
north,  and,  I  suppose,  another  opposite  one  towards  the  south,  which  I 
could  not  see  without  crossing  the  water.  In  the  middle  of  this  tower  is  a 
projection  or  cornice  surrounding  it :  the  whole  is  hollow  from  the  door 
upwards,  and  now  open  at  the  top,  near  which  is  a  small  window.  I  was 
informed  that  not  long  ago  a  countryman  and  his  family  lived  in  this 
tower,  and  got  his  livelihood  by  laying  out  planks  from  pillar  to  pillar,  and 
conveying  passengers  over  the  river.  Whether  this  be  ancient  or  modern, 
I  know  not ;  but  as  it  is  singular  in  its  kind,  I  have  thought  fit  to  exhibit 
it"  [p.  165,  ed.  1726]. 

The  vestiges  of  this  uncommon  species  of  bridge  still  exist,  and  the 
Author  has  often  seen  the  foundations  of  the  columns  when  drifting  down 
the  Tweed  at  night,  for  the  purpose  of  killing  salmon  by  torchlight.  Mr. 
J ohn  Mercer  of  Bridge-end  recollects  that,  about  fifty  years  ago,  the  pillars 


NOTES. 


471 


were  visible  above  water  ;  and  the  late  Mr.  David  Kyle  of  the  George  Inn, 
Melrose,  told  the  Author  that  he  saw  a  stone  taken  from  the  ruins  bearing 
this  inscription : 

I,  Sir  John  Pringle  of  Palmer-stede, 
Give  an  hundred  niarkis  of  gowd  sae  reid, 
To  help  to  bigg  my  brigg  ower  Tweed. 

Pringle  of  Galashiels,  afterwards  of  Whitebank,  was  the  baron  to  whom 
the  bridge  belonged. 

Note  5. — To  Sorne,  p.  136. 

To  "  some,"  in  Scotland,  is  to  exact  free  quarters  against  the  will  of  the 
landlord.  It  is  declared  equivalent  to  theft  by  a  statute  passed  in  the  year 
1445.  The  great  chieftains  oppressed  the  monasteries  very  much  by  exac- 
tions of  this  nature.  The  community  of  Aberbrothwick  complained  of  an 
Earl  of  Angus,  I  think,  who  was  in  the  regular  habit  of  visiting  them  once 
a  year,  with  a  train  of  a  thousand  horse,  and  abiding  till  the  whole  winter 
provisions  of  the  convent  were  exhausted. 

Note  6.— Beef  sold  by  Measure,  p.  142. 

It  was  one  of  the  reminiscences  of  Old  Parr,  or  Henry  Jenkins,  I  forget 
which,  that,  at  some  convent  in  the  veteran's  neighbourhood,  the  com- 
munity, before  the  dissolution,  used  to  dole  out  roast-beef  by  the  measure 
of  feet  and  yards. 

Note  7. — Motto  to  Chapter  xiii.,  p.  171. 

The  verse  we  have  chosen  for  a  motto  is  from  a  poem  imputed  to  James 
I.  of  Scotland.  As  for  the  miller  who  figures  among  the  Canterbury  pil- 
grims, besides  his  sword  and  buckler,  he  boasted  other  attributes,  all  of 
which,  but  especially  the  last,  show  that  he  relied  more  on  the  strength  of 
the  outside  than  that  of  the  inside  of  his  skull. 

The  miller  was  a  stout  carl  for  the  nones, 
Full  big  he  was  of  brawn,  and  eke  of  bones ; 
That  proved  well,  for  wheresoe'er  he  cam, 
At  wrestling  he  wold  bear  away  the  ram  ; 
He  was  short-shoulder'd,  broad,  a  thick  gnar  ; 
There  n'as  no  door  that  he  n'old  heave  of  bar, 
Or  break  it  at  a  running  with  his  head,  etc. 

Note  8. — Miller  and  Knave,  p.  176. 

The  under  miller  is,  in  the  language  of  thirlage,  called  the  knave,  which, 
indeed,  signified  originally  his  lad  (Knabe,  German),  but  by  degrees  came 
to  be  taken  in  a  worse  sense.  In  the  old  translations  of  the  Bible,  Paul  is 
made  to  term  himself  the  knave  of  our  Saviour.  The  allowance  of  meal 
taken  by  the  miller's  servant  was  called  knaveship. 

Note  9.— The  Sequels,  p.  176. 

The  multure  was  the  regular  exaction  for  grinding  the  meal.  The 
44  Lock,"  signifying  a  small  quantity,  and  the  44  goupen,"  a  handful,  were 
additional  perquisites  demanded  by  the  miller,  and  submitted  to  or 


472 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


resisted  by  the  "  suckener  "  as  circumstances  permitted.  These  and  other 
petty  dues  were  called  in  general  the  "sequels." 

Note  10. — MacFarlane's  Geese,  p.  180. 

A  brood  of  wild  geese,  which  long  frequented  one  of  the  uppermost 
islands  in  Loch  Lomond,  called  Inch  Tavoe,  were  supposed  to  have  some 
mysterious  connexion  with  the  ancient  family  of  MacFarlane  of  that  ilk, 
and  it  is  said  were  never  seen  after  the  ruin  and  extinction  of  that  house. 
The  MacFarlanes  had  a  house  and  garden  upon  that  same  island  of  Inch 
Tavoe.  Here  James  VI.  was,  on  one  occasion,  regaled  by  the  chieftain. 
His  Majesty  had  been  previously  much  amused  by  the  geese  pursuing 
each  other  on  the  loch  ;  but,  when  one  which  was  brought  to  the  table 
was  found  to  be  tough  and  ill-fed,  James  observed,  "  That  MacFarlane's 
geese  minded  their  play  better  than  their  meat,"  a  proverb  which  has  been 
current  ever  since. 

Note  11. — John  Lyly,  p.  188. 

Such  and  yet  more  extravagant  are  the  compliments  paid  to  this  author 
by  his  editor  Blount.  Notwithstanding  all  exaggeration,  Lyly  was  really 
a  man  of  wit  and  imagination,  though  both  were  deformed  by  the  most 
unnatural  affectation  that  ever  disgraced  a  printed  page. 

Note  12. — Usage  of  Epithets,  p.  201. 

There  are  many  instances  to  be  met  with  in  the  ancient  dramas  of  this 
whimsical  and  conceited  custom  of  persons  who  formed  an  intimacy  dis- 
tinguishing each  other  by  some  quaint  epithet.  In  Every  Man  out  of  his 
Humour  there  is  a  humorous  debate  upon  names  most  fit  to  bind  the  rela- 
tion betwixt  Sogliardo  and  Cavaliero  Shift,  which  ends  by  adopting  those 
of  Countenance  and  Resolution.  What  is  more  to  the  point  is  in  the 
speech  of  Hedon,  a  voluptuary  and  a  courtier  in  Cynthia's  Revels.  "  You 
know  I  call  Madam  Philautia  my  honour,  and  she  calls  me  her  ambition. 
Now  when  I  meet  her  in  the  presence  anon,  I  will  come  to  her  and  say, 
'Sweet  Honour,  I  have  hitherto  contented  my  sense  with  the  lilies  of 
your  hand,  but  now  I  will  taste  the  roses  of  your  lip'  ...  to  which 
she  cannot  but  blushing  answer,  4  Nay,  now  you  are  too  ambitious.'  And 
then  do  I  reply,  1 1  cannot  be  too  ambitious  of  Honour,  sweet  lady.  Will't 
not  be  good?'  "  I  think  there  is  some  remnant  of  this  foppery  preserved 
in  masonic  lodges,  where  each  brother  is  distinguished  by  a  name  in  the 
lodge  signifying  some  abstract  quality,  as  Discretion,  or  the  like.  See  the 
poems  of  Gavin  Wilson. 

Note  13. — Attaint,  p.  214. 

"  Attaint  "  was  a  term  of  tilting  used  to  express  the  champion's  having 
attained  his  mark,  or,  in  other  words,  struck  his  lance  straight  and  fair 
against  the  helmet  or  breast  of  his  adversary.  Whereas  to  break  the  lance 
across  intimated  a  total  failure  in  directing  the  point  of  the  weapon  on 
the  object  of  his  aim. 


NOTES. 


473 


Note  14. — Rowland  Yorke  and  Stukely,  p.  220. 

M  Yorke,"  says  Camden,  "  was  a  Londoner,  a  man  of  loose  and  dissolute 
behaviour,  and  desperately  audacious ;  famous  in  his  time  amongst  the 
common  bullies  and  swaggerers,  as  being  the  first  that,  to  the  great  admir- 
ation of  many  at  his  boldness,  brought  into  England  the  bold  and  dan- 
gerous way  of  fencing  with  the  rapier  in  duelling.  Whereas,  till  that 
time,  the  English  used  to  fight  with  long  swords  and  bucklers,  striking 
with  the  edge,  and  thought  it  no  part  of  man  either  to  push  or  strike  be- 
neath the  girdle." 

Having  a  command  in  the  Low  Countries,  Yorke  revolted  to  the  Span- 
iards, and  died  miserably,  poisoned,  as  was  supposed,  by  his  new  allies. 
Three  years  afterwards,  his  bones  were  dug  up  and  gibbeted  by  the  com- 
mand of  the  States  of  Holland. 

Thomas  Stu-kely,  another  distinguished  gallant  of  the  time,  was  bred  a 
merchant,  being  the  son  of  a  rich  clothier  in  the  west.  He  wedded  the 
daughter  and  heiress  of  a  wealthy  alderman  of  London,  named  Curtis, 
after  whose  death  he  squandered  the  riches  he  thus  acquired  in  all  manner 
of  extravagance.  His  wife,  whose  fortune  supplied  his  waste,  represented 
to  him  that  he  ought  to  make  more  of  her.  Stukely  replied,  "  I  will  make 
as  much  of  thee,  believe  me,  as  it  is  possible  for  any  to  do  "  ;  and  he  kept 
his  word  in  one  sense,  having  stripped  her  even  of  her  wearing  apparel, 
before  he  finally  ran  away  from  her. 

Having  fled  to  Italy,  he  contrived  to  impose  upon  the  Pope,  with  a  plan 
of  invading  Ireland,  for  which  he  levied  soldiers,  and  made  some  prepara- 
tions ;  but  ended  by  engaging  himself  and  his  troops  in  the  service  of  King 
Sebastian  of  Portugal.  He  sailed  with  that  prince  on  his  fatal  voyage  to 
Barbary,  and  fell  with  him  at  the  battle  of  Alcazar. 

Stukely,  as  one  of  the  first  gallants  of  the  time,  has  had  the  honour  to  be 
chronicled  in  song,  in  Evans's  Old  Ballads,  vol.  iii.,  edition  1810.  His  fate 
is  also  introduced  in  a  tragedy  by  George  Peele,  as  has  been  supposed, 
called  the  Battle  of  Alcazar,  from  which  play  Dryden  is  alleged  to  have 
taken  the  idea  of  Don  Sebastian  ;  if  so,  it  is  surprising  he  omitted  a  char- 
acter so  congenial  to  King  Charles  the  Second's  time  as  the  witty,  brave, 
and  profligate  Thomas  Stukely. 

Note  15. — Trussing  Points,  p.  222. 

The  points  were  the  strings  of  cord  or  ribbon — so  called,  because  pointed 
with  metal  like  the  laces  of  women's  stays — which  attached  the  doublet  to 
the  hose.  They  were  very  numerous,  and  required  assistance  to  tie  them 
properly,  which  was  called  "  trussing." 

Note  16. — Misericord,  p.  251. 

"Misericord,"  according  to  the  learned  work  of  Fosbrooke  on  British 
Mona  chism,  meant  not  only  an  indulgence,  or  exoneration  from  particular 
duties,  but  also  a  particular  apartment  in  a  convent,  where  the  monks 
assembled  to  enjoy  such  indulgences  or  allowances  as  were  granted  beyond 
the  rule. 


474 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Note  17. — Castle  of  Avenel,  p.  289. 

It  is  in  vain  to  search  near  Melrose  for  any  such  castle  as  is  here  described. 
The  lakes  at  the  head  of  the  Yarrow,  and  those  at  the  rise  of  the  Water  of 
Ale,  present  no  object  of  the  kind.  But  in  Yetholm  Loch  (a  romantic 
sheet  of  water,  in  the  Dry  March,  as  it  is  called)  there  are  the  remains  of 
a  fortress  called  Lochside  Tower,  which,  like  the  supposed  Castle  of  Avenel, 
is  built  upon  an  island,  and  connected  with  the  land  by  a  causeway.  It 
is  much  smaller  than  the  Castle  of  Avenel  is  described,  consisting  only  of 
a  single  ruinous  tower. 

Note  18. — Handfasting,  p.  305. 

This  custom  of  handfasting  actually  prevailed  in  the  upland  days.  It 
arose  partly  from  the  want  of  priests.  While  the  convents  subsisted, 
monks  were  detached  on  regular  circuits  through  the  wilder  districts,  to 
marry  those  who  had  lived  in  this  species  of  connexion.  A  practice  of  the 
same  kind  existed  in  the  Isle  of  Portland. 

Note  19. — Julian  Avenel,  p.  309. 

It  it  were  necessary  to  name  a  prototype  for  this  brutal,  licentious,  and 
cruel  Border  chief,  in  an  age  which  showed  but  too  many  such,  the  Laird 
of  Black  Ormiston  might  be  selected  for  that  purpose.  He  was  a  friend 
and  confidant  of  Both  well,  and  an  agent  in  Henry  Darnley's  murder.  At 
his  last  stage  he  was,  like  other  great  offenders,  a  seeming  penitent ;  and, 
as  his  confession  bears,  divers  gentlemen  and  servants  being  in  the  cham- 
ber, he  said  :  "  For  God's  sake,  sit  down  and  pray  for  me,  for  I  have  been 
a  great  sinner  otherwise  (that  is,  besides  his  share  in  Darnley's  death), 
for  the  which  God  is  this  day  punishing  me ;  for  of  all  men  on  the  earth,  I 
have  been  one  of  the  proudest,  and  most  high-minded,  and  most  unclean  of 
my  body.  But  specially  I  have  shed  the  innocent  blood  of  one  Michael 
Hunter  with  my  own  hands.  Alas  !  therefore,  because  the  said  Michael, 
having  me  lying  on  my  back,  having  a  fork  in  his  hand,  might  have 
slain  me  if  he  had  pleased,  and  did  it  not,  which  of  all  things  grieves  me 
most  in  conscience.  Also,  in  a  rage,  I  hanged  a  poor  man  for  ahorse; 
with  many  other  wicked  deeds,  for  whilk  I  ask  my  God  mercy.  It  is  not 
marvel  I  have  been  wicked,  considering  the  wicked  company  that  ever  I 
have  been  in,  but  specially  within  the  seven  years  bye-past,  in  which  I 
never  saw  two  good  men  or  one  good  deed,  but  all  kind  of  wickedness, 
and  yet  God  would  not  suffer  me  to  be  lost."  See  the  whole  confession  in 
the  State  Trials. 

Another  worthy  of  the  Borders,  called  Geordy  Bourne,  of  somewhat 
subordinate  rank,  was  a  similar  picture  of  profligacy.  He  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  Sir  Robert  Carey,  then  warden  of  the  English  East  Marches, 
who  lmvcs  the  following  account  of  his  prisoner's  confession  : 

1  When  all  things  were  quiet,  and  the  watch  set  at  night,  after  supper, 
about  ten  of  the  clock,  I  took  one  of  my  men's  liveries  and  put  it  about 
me,  and  took  two  other  of  my  servants  with  me  in  their  liveries  ;  and  we 
three,  as  the  Warden's  men,  came  to  the  Provost  Marshal's,  where  Bourne 
was,  and  were  let  into  his  chamber.   We  sate  down  by  him,  and  told 


NOTES. 


475 


him  that  we  were  desirous  to  see  him,  because  we  heard  he  was  stout  and 
valiant,  and  true  to  his  friend,  and  that  we  were  sorry  our  master  could 
not  be  moved  to  save  his  life.  He  voluntarily  of  himself  said  that  he  had 
lived  long  enough  to  do  so  many  villainies  as  he  had  done;  and  withal 
told  us  that  he  had  lain  with  above  forty  men's  wives,  what  in  England 
what  in  Scotland  ;  and  that  he  had  killed  seven  Englishmen  with  his  own 
hands,  cruelly  murdering  them;  that  he  had  spent  his  whole  time  in 
whoring,  drinking,  stealing,  and  taking  deep  revenge  for  slight  offences. 
He  seemed  to  be  very  penitent,  and  much  desired  a  minister  for  the  com- 
fort of  his  soul.  We  promised  him  to  let  our  master  know  his  desire,  who, 
we  knew,  would  presently  grant  it.  We  took  our  leaves  of  him  ;  and 
presently  I  took  order  that  Mr.  Selby,  a  very  worthy  honest  preacher, 
should  go  to  him,  and  not  stir  from  him  till  his  execution  the  next 
morning;  for,  after  I  had  heard  his  own  confession,  I  was  resolved  no 
conditions  should  save  his  life,  and  so  took  order  that  at  the  gates  opening 
the  next  morning  he  should  be  carried  to  execution,  which  accordingly 
was  performed." — Memoirs  of  Sir  Robert  Carey,  Earl  of  Monmouth  [p.  88]. 

Note  20.— Foppery  of  the  Sixteenth  Century,  p.  339. 

Sir  Piercie  Shafton's  extreme  love  of  dress  was  an  attribute  of  the 
coxcombs  of  this  period.  The  display  made  by  their  forefathers  was  in  the 
numbers  of  their  retinue  ;  but  as  the  actual  influence  of  the  nobility  began 
to  be  restrained  both  in  France  and  England  by  the  increasing  power  of 
the  crown,  the  indulgence  of  vanity  in  personal  display  become  more 
inordinate.  There  are  many  allusions  to  this  change  of  custom  in 
Shakspeare  and  other  dramatic  writers,  where  the  reader  may  find  men- 
tion made  of 

Bonds  enter' d  into 
For  gay  apparel  against  the  triumph  day. 

Jonson  informs  us,  that  for  the  first  entrance  of  a  gallant,  "  twere  good 
you  turned  four  or  five  hundred  acres  of  your  best  land  into  two  or  three 
trunks  of  apparel " — Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour  [Act  i.  Sc.  1]. 

In  the  Memoir  of  the  Somervi-lle  Family,  a  curious  instance  occurs  of  this 
fashionable  species  of  extravagance.  In  the  year  1537,  when  James  V. 
brought  over  his  shortlived  bride  from  France,  the  Lord  Somerville  of  the 
day  was  so  profuse  in  the  expense  of  his  apparel  that  the  money  which  he 
borrowed  on  the  occasion  was  compensated  by  a  perpetual  annuity  of 
three-score  pounds  Scottish,  payable  out  of  the  barony  of  Carnwarth  till 
doomsday,  which  was  assigned  by  the  creditor  to  St.  Magdalen's  Chapel. 
By  this  deep  expense  the  Lord  Somerville  had  rendered  himself  so  glorious 
in  apparel  that  the  King,  who  saw  so  brave  a  gallant  enter  the  gate  of 
Holyrood,  followed  by  only  two  pages,  called  upon  several  of  the  courtiers 
to  ascertain  who  it  could  be  who  was  so  richly  dressed  and  so  slightly 
attended,  and  he  was  not  recognised  until  he  entered  the  presence-chamber. 
<k  You  are  very  brave,  my  lord,"  said  the  King,  as  he  received  his  homage  ; 
1 1  but  where  are  all  your  men  and  attendants  ? ' '  The  Lord  Somerville  read- 
ily answered,  11  If  it  please  your  Majesty,  here  they  are,"  pointing  to  the 
lace  that  was  on  his  own  and  his  pages'  clothes  ;  whereat  the  King  laughed 
heartily,  and,  having  surveyed  the  finery  more  nearly,  bade  him  have 
away  with  it  all,  and  let  him  have  his  stout  band  of  spears  again. 


476 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


There  is  a  scene  in  Jonson's  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour  (Act  iv.  Scene 
4)  in  which  a  Euphuist  of  the  time  gives  an  account  of  the  effects  of  a  duel 
on  the  clothes  of  himself  and  his  opponent,  and  never  departs  a  syllable 
from  the  catalogue  of  his  wardrobe.  We  shall  insert  it  in  evidence  that  the 
foppery  of  our  ancestors  was  not  inferior  to  that  of  our  own  time. 

11  Fastidius.  Good  faith,  signior,  now  you  speak  of  a  quarrel,  I'll  acquaint 
you  with  a  difference  that  happened  between  a  gallant  and  myself,  Sir 
Puntarvolo.    You  know  him  if  I  should  name  him — Signior  Luculento. 

"Punt.  Luculento!    What  inauspicious  chance  interposed  itself  to  your 

two  loves? 

"  Fast.  Faith,  sir,  the  same  that  sundered  Agamemnon  and  great  Thetis' 
son ;  but  let  the  cause  escape,  sir.  He  sent  me  a  challenge,  mixt  with 
some  few  braves,  which  I  restored  ;  and,  in  fine,  we  met.  Now  indeed,  sir, 
I  must  tell  you,  he  did  offer  at  first  very  desperately,  but  without  judgment ; 
for  look  you,  sir,  I  cast  myself  into  this  figure  ;  now  he  comes  violently  on, 
and  withal  advancing  his  rapier  to  strike,  I  thought  to  have  took  his  arm, 
for  he  had  left  his  whole  body  to  my  election,  and  I  was  sure  he  could  not 
recover  his  guard.  Sir,  I  mist  my  purpose  in  his  arm,  rashed  his  doublet 
sleeve,  ran  him  close  by  the  left  cheek  and  through  his  hair.  He,  again, 
lights  me  here — I  had  on  a  gold  cable  hat-band,  then  new  come  up,  which  I 
wore  about  a  murrey  French  hat  I  had — cuts  my  hat-band,  and  yet  it  was 
massy  goldsmith's  work,  cuts  my  brim,  which,  by  good  fortune,  being  thick 
embroidered  with  gold  twist  and  spangles,  disappointed  the  force  of  the 
blow  ;  nevertheless,  it  grazed  on  my  shoulder,  takes  me  away  six  purls  of 
an  Italian  cut-work  band  I  wore,  cost  me  three  pounds  in  the  Exchange 
but  three  days  before. 

"  Punt.  This  was  a  strange  encounter. 

11  Fast.  Nay,  you  shall  hear,  sir.  With  this,  we  both  fell  out  and  breathed. 
Now,  upon  the  second  sign  of  his  assault,  I  betook  me  to  the  former 
manner  of  my  defence  ;  he,  on  the  other  side,  abandoned  his  body  to  the 
same  danger  as  before,  and  follows  me  still  with  blows  ;  but  I,  being  loth 
to  take  the  deadly  advantage  that  lay  before  me  of  his  left  side,  made  a 
kind  of  stramazoun,  ran  him  up  to  the  hilts  through  the  doublet,  through 
the  shirt,  and  yet  missed  the  skin.  He,  making  a  reverse  blow,  falls  upon 
my  embossed  girdle, — I  had  thrown  off  the  hangers  a  little  before, — strikes 
off  a  skirt  of  a  thick-laced  satin  doublet  I  had,  lined  with  four  taffatas,  cuts 
off  two  panes  embroidered  with  pearl,  rends  through  the  drawings-out  of 
tissue,  enters  the  linings,  and  skips  the  flesh. 

"  Car.  I  wonder  he  speaks  not  of  his  wrought  shirt  

"Fast.  Here,  in  the  opinion  of  mutual  damage,  we  paused.  But,  ere  I 
proceed,  I  must  tell  you,  signior,  that  in  this  last  encounter,  not  having 
leisure  to  put  off  my  silver  spurs,  one  of  the  rowels  catched  hold  of  the 
ruffles  of  my  boot,  and,  being  Spanish  leather  and  subject  to  tear,  over- 
throws me,  rends  me  two  pair  of  silk  stockings  that  I  put  on,  being  somewhat 
a  raw  morning,  a  peach  colour  and  another,  and  strikes  me  some  half-inch 
deep  into  the  side  of  the  calf.  He,  seeing  the  blood  come,  presently  takes 
horse  and  away.  I,  having  bound  up  my  wound  with  a  piece  of  my 
Wroughl  shirt  

"  Car.  O,  comes  it  in  there? 

"-Fas*.  Ride  after  him,  and,  lighting  at  the  court-gate  both  together, 


NOTES. 


477 


embraced,  and  marched  hand  and  hand  up  into  the  presence.  Was  not 
this  business  well  carried  ? 

"  Maci.  Well !  yes  ;  and  by  this  we  can  guess  what  apparel  the  gentleman 
wore. 

"  Punt.  'Fore  valour  !  it  was  a  designment  begun  with  much  resolution, 
maintained  with  as  much  prowess,  and  ended  with  more  humanity." 

Note  21. — Good  Faith  of  the  Borderers,  p.  420. 

As  some  atonement  for  their  laxity  of  morals  on  most  occasions,  the 
Borderers  were  severe  observers  of  the  faith  which  they  had  pledged,  even 
to  an  enemy.  If  any  person  broke  his  word  so  plighted,  the  individual  to 
whom  faith  had  not  been  observed  used  to  bring  to  the  next  Border  meeting 
a  glove  hung  on  the  point  of  a  spear,  and  proclaim  to  Scots  and  English 
the  name  of  the  defaulter.  This  was  accounted  so  great  a  disgrace  to  all 
connected  with  him  that  his  own  clansmen  sometimes  destroyed  him,  to 
escape  the  infamy  he  had  brought  on  them. 

Constable,  a  spy  engaged  by  Sir  Ralph  Sadler,  talks  of  two  Border  thieves 
whom  he  used  as  his  guides — 14  That  they  would  not  care  to  steal,  and  yet 
they  would  not  bewray  any  man  that  trusts  in  them  for  all  the  gold  in  Scot- 
land or  in  France.  They  are  my  guides  and  outlaws.  If  they  would  be- 
tray me  they  might  get  their  pardons,  and  cause  me  to  be  hanged  ;  but  I 
have  tried  them  ere  this." — Sadler's  Letters  during  the  Great  Northern  Insur- 
rection [vol.  ii.  p.  116,  ed.  1809]. 

Note  22. — Indulgences  of  the  Monks,  p.  411. 

The  biberes,  caritas,  and  boiled  almonds  of  which  Abbot  Boniface  speaks 
were  special  occasions  for  enjoying  luxuries,  afforded  to  the  monks  by 
grants  from  different  sovereigns,  or  from  other  benefactors  to  the  convent. 
There  is  one  of  these  charters  called  Be  Pitancia  Centum  Librarum.  By  this 
charter,  which  is  a  very  curious  one,  Robert  Bruce,  on  the  10th  January, 
and  in  the  twelfth  year  of  his  reign,  assigns,  out  of  the  customs  of  Berwick, 
and  failing  them  out  of  the  customs  of  Edinburgh  or  Haddington,  the  sum 
of  £100,  at  the  half-yearly  terms  of  Pentecost  and  St.  Martin's  in  winter,  to 
the  abbot  and  community  of  the  monks  of  Melrose.  The  precise  purpose 
of  this  annuity  is  to  furnish  to  each  of  the  monks  of  the  said  monastery, 
while  placed  at  food  in  the  refectory,  an  extra  mess  of  rice  boiled  with  milk, 
or  of  almonds,  or  pease,  or  other  pulse  of  that  kind  which  could  be  pro- 
cured in  the  country.  This  addition  to  their  commons  is  to  be  entitled  the 
King's  Mess.  And  it  is  declared  that,  although  any  monk  should,  from 
some  honest  apology,  want  appetite  or  inclination  to  eat  of  the  king's  mess, 
his  share  should,  nevertheless,  be  placed  on  the  table  with  those  of  his 
brethren,  and  afterwards  carried  to  the  gate  and  given  to  the  poor. 
"Neither  is  it  our  pleasure,"  continues  the  bountiful  sovereign,  "that  the 
dinner  which  is  or  ought  to  be  served  up  to  the  said  monks  according  to 
their  ancient  rule,  should  be  diminished  in  quantity,  or  rendered  inferior 
in  quality,  on  account  of  this  our  mess,  so  furnished  as  aforesaid."  It  is, 
moreover,  provided  that  the  abbot,  with  the  consent  of  the  most  sage  of  his 
brethren,  shall  name  a  prudent  and  decent  monk  for  receiving,  directing, 
and  expending  all  matters  concerning  this  annuity  for  the  benefit  of  the 
community,  agreeably  to  the  royal  desire  and  intention,  rendering  a  faithful 


478 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


accompt  thereof  to  the  abbot  and  superiors  of  the  same  convent.  And  the 
same  charter  declares  the  king's  farther  pleasure,  that  the  said  men  of 
religion  should  be  bound  yearly  and  for  ever,  in  acknowledgment  of  the 
above  donation,  to  clothe  fifteen  poor  men  at  the  feast  of  St.  Martin  in 
winter,  and  to  feed  them  on  the  same  day,  delivering  to  each  of  them  four 
ells  of  large  or  broad,  or  six  ells  of  narrow,  cloth,  and  to  each  also  a  new 
pair  of  shoes  or  sandals,  according  to  their  order  ;  and  if  the  said  monks 
shall  fail  in  their  engagements,  or  any  of  them,  it  is  the  king's  will  that 
the  fault  shall  be  redeemed  by  a  double  performance  of  what  has  been 
omitted,  to  be  executed  at  the  sight  of  the  chief  forester  of  Ettrick,  for  the 
time  being,  and  before  the  return  of  St.  Martin's  day  succeeding  that  on 
which  the  omission  has  taken  place. 

Of  this  charter  respecting  the  pittance  of  £100  assigned  to  furnish  the 
monks  of  Melrose  with  a  daily  mess  of  boiled  rice,  almonds,  or  other  pulse, 
to  mend  their  commons,  the  antiquarian  reader  will  be  pleased,  doubtless, 
to  see  the  original. 

Carta  Regis  Roberti  I.  Abbati  et  Conventui  de  Melross. 

Carta  de  Pitancia  Centum  Librarum. 

Robertus  Dei  gracia  Rex  Scottorum  omnibus  probis  hominibus  tocius  terre 
sue  Salutem.  Sciatis  nos  pro  salute  anime  nostre  et  pro  salute  animarum 
antecessorum  et  successorum  nostrorum  Regum  Scocie  Dedisse  Concessisse 
et  hac  presenti  Carta  nostra  confirmasse  Deo  et  Beate  Marie  virgini  et  Religi- 
osis  viris  Abbati  et  Conventui  de  Melross  et  eorum  successoribus  in  perpet- 
uum  Ceneum  Libras  Sterlingorum  Annui  Redditus  singulis  annis  percipien- 
das  de  firmis  nostris  Burgi  Berwici  super  Twedam  ad  terminos  Pentecostis 
et  Sancti  Martini  in  hyeme  pro  equali  portione  vel  de  nova  Custuma  nostra 
Burgi  predicti  si  firme  nostre  predicte  ad  dictam  summam  pecunie  sum  cere 
non  poterunt  vel  de  nova  Custuma  nostra  Burgorum  nostrorum  de  Eden- 
burg  et  de  Hadington  Si  firme  nostre  et  Custuma  nostra  ville  Berwici  aliquo 
casu  contingente  ad  hoc  forte  non  sufficiaiit.  Ita  quod  dicta  summa  pecu- 
nie Centum  Librarum  eis  annuatim  integre  et  absque  contradictione  aliqua 
plenarie  persolvatur  pre  cunctis  aliis  quibuscunque  assignacionibus  per  nos 
factis  seu  faciendis  ad  inveniendum  in  perpetuum  singulis  diebus  cuilibet 
monacho  monasterii  predicti  comedenti  in  Refectorio  unum  sufficiens 
ferculum  risarum  factarum  cum  lacte,  amigdalorum  vel  pisarum  sive 
aliorum  ciborum  consimilis  condicionis  inventorum  in  patria  et  illud 
ferculum  ferculum  Regis  vocabitur  in  eternum.  Et  si  aliquis  monachus  ex 
aliqua  causa  honesta  de  dicto  ferculo  comedere  noluerit  vel  refici  non 
poterit  non  minus  attamen  sibi  de  dicto  ferculo  ministretur  et  ad  portam 
pro  pauperibus  deportetur.  Nec  volumus  quod  occasione  ferculi  nostri 
predicti  prandium  dicti  Conventus  de  quo  antiquitus  communiter  eis 
deserviri  sive  ministrari  solebat  in  aliquo  pejoretur  seu  diminuatur. 
Volumus  insuper  et  ordinamus  quod  Abbas  ejusdem  monasterii  qui  pro 
tempore  merit  de  consensu  saniorum  de  Conventu  specialiter  constituat 
unum  monachum  providum  et  discretum  ad  recipiendum  ordinandum  et 
expendendum  totam  summam  pecunie  memorate  pro  utilitate  conventus 
secundum  votum  et  intencionem  mentis  nostre  superius  annotatum  et  ad 
reddendum  fidele  compotum  coram  Abbate  et  Maioribus  de  Conventu 
singulis  annis  de  pecunia  sic  recepta.    Et  volumus  quod  dicti  religiosi 


NOTES. 


479 


teneantur  annuatim  in  perpetuum  pro  predicta  donacione  nostra  ad 
perpetuara  nostri  memoriam  vestire  quindecim  pauperes  ad  festum  Sancti 
Martini  in  hieme  et  eosdem  cibare  eodem  die  liberando  eorum  cuilibet 
quatuor  ulnas  panni  grossi  et  lati  vel  sex  ulnas  panni  stricti  et  eorum 
cuilibet  unum  novum  par  sotularium  de  ordine  suo.  Et  si  dicti  religiosi  in 
premissis  vel  aliquo  premissorum  aliquo  anno  defecerint  volumus  quod 
illud  quod  minus  perimpletum  fuerit  dupplicetur  diebus  magis  necessariis 
per  visum  capitalis  forestarii  nostri  de  Selkirk,  qui  pro  tempore  fuerit.  Et 
quod  dicta  dupplicatio  fiat  ante  natale  domini  proximo  sequens  festum 
Sancti  Martini  predictum.  In  cujus  rei  testimonium  presenti  Carte  nostre 
sigillum  nostrum  precipimus  apponi.  Testibus  venerabilibus  in  Christo 
patribus  Willielmo,  Johanne,  Willielmo  et  David  Sancti  Andree, 
Glasguensis,  Dunkeldensis  et  Moraviensis  ecclesiarum  dei  gracia  episcopis 
Bernardo  Abbate  de  Abirbrothock  Cancellario,  Duncano,  Malisio  et 
Hugone  de  Fyf  de  Strathin  et  de  Ross,  Comitibus  Waltero  Senescallo 
Scocie.  Jacobo  domino  de  Duglas  et  Alexandro  Fraser  Camerario  nostro 
Scocie  militibus.  Apud  Abirbrothock,  decimo  die  Januarij.  Anno  Regni 
nostri  vicesimo. 

Note  23. — Pedigree  of  the  Douglas  Family,  p.  457. 

The  late  excellent  and  laborious  antiquary,  Mr.  George  Chalmers,  has 
rebuked  the  vaunt  of  the  house  of  Douglas,  or  rather  of  Hume  of  Godscroft, 
their  historian,  but  with  less  than  his  wonted  accuracy.  In  the  first 
volume  of  his  Caledonia,  he  quotes  the  passage  in  Godscroft  for  the  purpose 
of  confuting  it. 

The  historian  (of  the  Douglasses)  cries  out :  "  We  do  not  know  them  in 
the  fountain,  but  in  the  stream ;  not  in  the  root,  but  in  the  stem  :  for  we 
know  not  which  is  the  mean  man  that  did  rise  above  the  vulgar."  This 
assumption  Mr.  Chalmers  censures  as  ill-timed,  and  alleges  that  if  the  his- 
torian had  attended  more  to  research  than  to  declamation,  he  might  easily 
have  seen  the  first  mean  man  of  this  renowned  family.  This  he  alleges 
to  have  been  one  Theobaldus  Flammaticus,  or  Theobald  the  Fleming,  to 
whom  Arnold,  Abbot  of  Kelso,  between  the  year  1147  and  1160,  granted  cer- 
tain lands  on  Douglas  water,  by  a  deed  which  Mr.  Chalmers  conceives  to 
be  the  first  link  of  the  chain  of  title-deeds  to  Douglasdale.  Hence,  he  says, 
the  family  must  renounce  their  family  domain,  or  acknowledge  this 
obscure  Fleming  as  their  ancestor.  Theobald  the  Fleming,  it  is  acknowl- 
edged, did  not  himself  assume  the  name  of  Douglas;  "but,"  says  the 
antiquary,  "his  son  William,  who  inherited  his  estate,  called  himself,  and 
was  named  by  others,  De  Duglas  ";  and  he  refers  to  the  deeds  in  which  he 
is  so  designed.  Mr.  Chalmers's  full  argument  may  be  found  in  the  first 
volume  of  his  Caledonia,  p.  579. 

This  proposition  is  one  which  a  Scotsman  will  admit  unwillingly,  and 
only  upon  undeniable  testimony  ;  and  as  it  is  liable  to  strong  grounds  of 
challenge,  the  present  Author,  with  all  the  respect  to  Mr.  Chalmers  which 
his  zealous  and  effectual  researches  merit,  is  not  unwilling  to  take  this 
opportunity  to  state  some  plausible  grounds  for  doubting  that  Theobaldus 
Flammaticus  was  either  the  father  of  the  first  William  de  Douglas  or  in 
the  slightest  degree  connected  with  the  Douglas  family. 

It  must  first  be  observed,  that  there  is  no  reason  whatever  for  concluding 
Theobaldus  Flammaticus  to  be  the  father  of  William  De  Douglas  except 


480 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


that  they  both  held  lands  upon  the  small  river  of  Douglas  ;  and  that  there 
are  two  strong  presumptions  to  the  contrary.  For,  first,  the  father  being 
named  Fleming,  there  seems  no  good  reason  why  the  son  should  have 
assumed  a  different  designation  ;  secondly,  there  does  not  occur  a  single 
instance  of  the  name  of  Theobald  during  the  long  line  of  the  Douglas 
pedigree — an  omission  very  unlikely  to  take  place  had  the  original  father 
of  the  race  been  so  called.  These  are  secondary  considerations  indeed  ; 
but  they  are  important,  in  so  far  as  they  exclude  any  support  of  Mr.  Chal- 
mers's system,  except  from  the  point  which  he  has  rather  assumed  than 
proved,  namely,  that  the  lands  granted  to  Theobald  the  Fleming  were 
the  same  which  were  granted  to  William  de  Douglas,  and  which  con- 
stituted the  original  domain  of  which  we  find  this  powerful  family  lords. 

Now,  it  happens,  singularly  enough,  that  the  lands  granted  by  the  Abbot 
of  Kelso  to  Theobaldus  Flammaticus  are  not  the  same  of  which  William 
de  Douglas  was  in  possession.  Nay,  it  would  appear,  from  comparing  the 
charter  granted  to  Theobaldus  Flammaticus,  that,  though  situated  on  the 
water  of  Douglas,  they  never  made  a  part  of  the  barony  of  that  name,  and 
therefore  cannot  be  the  same  with  those  held  by  William  de  Douglas  in 
the  succeeding  generation.  But  if  William  de  Douglas  did  not  succeed 
Theobaldus  Flammaticus,  there  is  no  more  reason  for  holding  these  two 
persons  to  be  father  and  son  than  if  they  had  lived  in  different  provinces  ; 
and  we  are  still  as  far  from  having  discovered  the  first  mean  man  of 
the  Douglas  family  as  Hume  of  Godscroft  was  in  the  16th  century.  We 
leave  the  question  to  antiquaries  and  genealogists. 

Note  24. — Pedigree  of  the  Stuart  Family,  p.  457. 

To  atone  to  the  memory  of  the  learned  and  indefatigable  Chalmers  for 
having  ventured  to  impeach  his  genealogical  proposition  concerning  the 
descent  of  the  Douglasses,  we  are  bound  to  render  him  our  grateful  thanks 
for  the  felicitous  light  which  he  has  thrown  on  that  of  the  house  of  Stuart, 
still  more  important  to  Scottish  history. 

The  acute  pen  of  Lord  Hailes,  which,  like  the  spear  of  Ithuriel,  conjured 
so  many  shadows  from  Scottish  history,  had  dismissed  among  the  rest  those 
of  Banquo  and  Fleance,  the  rejection  of  which  fables  left  the  illustrious 
family  of  Stuart  without  an  ancestor  beyond  Walter  the  son  of  Allan,  who 
is  alluded  to  in  the  text.  The  researches  of  our  late  learned  antiquary 
detected  in  this  Walter,  the  descendant  of  Allan,  the  son  of  Flaald,  who 
obtained  from  William  the  Conqueror  the  castle  of  Oswestry  in  Shropshire, 
and  was  the  father  of  an  illustrious  line  of  English  nobles,  by  his  first  son, 
William,  and  by  his  second  son,  Walter,  the  progenitor  of  the  royal  family 
of  Stuart. 

Note  25. — The  White  Spirit,  p.  462. 

The  contrivance  of  provoking  the  irritable  vanity  of  Sir  Piercie  Shafton 
by  presenting  him  with  a  bodkin,  indicative  of  his  descent  from  a  tailor,  is 
borrowed  from  a  German  romance  by  the  celebrated  Tieck,  called  Das 
Peter ^  Mdnnchen,  i.e.  The  Dwarf  Peter.  The  being  who  gives  name  to  the 
tale  is  the  burg-geist,  or  castle  spectre,  of  a  German  family,  whom  he  aids 
with  his  counsel,  as  he  defends  their  castle  by  his  supernatural  power.  But 
the  Dwarf  Peter  is  so  unfortunate  an  adviser  that  all  his  counsels,  though 
producing  success  in  the  immediate  results,  are  in  the  issue  attended  with 


NOTES. 


481 


mishap  and  with  guilt.  The  youthful  baron,  the  owner  of  the  haunted 
castle,  falls  in  love  with  a  maiden,  the  daughter  of  a  neighbouring  count, 
a  man  of  great  pride,  who  refuses  him  the  hand  of  the  young  lady  on 
account  of  his  own  superiority  of  descent.  The  lover,  repulsed  and 
affronted,  returns  to  take  counsel  with  the  Dwarf  Peter  how  he  may 
silence  the  count  and  obtain  the  victory  in  the  argument,  the  next  time 
they  enter  upon  the  topick  of  pedigree.  The  dwarf  gives  his  patron  or 
pupil  a  horse-shoe,  instructing  him  to  present  it  to  the  count  when  he  is 
next  giving  himself  superior  airs  on  the  subject  of  his  family.  It  has  the 
effect  accordingly ;  the  count,  understanding  it  as  an  allusion  to  a  mis- 
alliance of  one  of  his  ancestors  with  the  daughter  of  a  blacksmith,  is 
thrown  into  a  dreadful  passion  with  the  young  lover,  the  consequences  of 
which  are  the  seduction  of  the  young  lady  and  the  slaughter  of  her  father. 

If  we  suppose  the  dwarf  to  represent  the  corrupt  part  of  human  nature — 
that  "  law  in  our  members  which  wars  against  the  law  of  our  minds  " — the 
work  forms  an  ingenious  allegory. 

31 


GLOSSARY 

OF 

WORDS,  PHRASES,  AND  ALLUSIONS. 


A',  all 

Aberbrothwick  or  aberbrothock, 

Arbroath,  in  Forfarshire 
Aboulfouaris.    See  H.  W  .Weber, 

Tales  of  the  East  (1812),  vol.  ii.  p. 

469 

Abune,  above 

Adventures  of  a  Guinea,  Chrysal ; 
or,  the  Adventures  of  a  Guinea  (1822) 
by  Charles  Johnson,  ed.  by  Sir 
Walter  Scott 

Adventures  of  an  Atom,  a  politi- 
cal satire  (1769)  by  Smollett,  the 
novelist 

Ae,  a,  one 

Aefauld,  honest,  without  duplicity 

Afflicts  sponsje  ne  obliviscaris, 
Forget  not  the  afflicted  spouse 

Afrite,  an  evil  demon  in  Moham- 
medan mythology 

Agrippa,  Cornelius,  a  German 
philosopher  of  the  16th  century, 
who  wrote  about  the  occult  (cab- 
alistical)  sciences 

Ain,  own 

Alanus  Dapifer,  Allan  the  steward 
Amadis,  the  mediaeval  hero,  Amadis 
of  Gaul 

Andrew    Ferrara,     a  Highland 

broadsword 
Ane,  ance,  one,  once 
Antiphonars,  canticles  and  other 

sentences  sung  by  a  choir 
Argute,  sharp,  clever 
Arriage  and  carriage,  a  phrase  in 

old  Scotch  leases,  but  bearing  no 

precise  meaning 
Aver,  a  cart-horse 

Bailie,  Scotch  alderman,  magis- 
trate 


Baker's  Nymph  of  Raphael  d'Ur- 
bino,  Raphael's  painting  known 
as  "La  Fornarina,"  the  baker's 
wife  or  daughter 

Ballant,  ballad 

Ballon,  a  game  played  with  a  large 
leather  ball,  that  was  either  struck 
with  the  arm  or  kicked 

Bane,  bone 

Banning,  cursing,  invoking  curses 
upon 

Bannock,  a  flat  round  oatmeal 
cake 

Basnet,  a  steel  headpiece 
Bauld,  bold 

Bear,  or  bigg,  a  coarse  kind  of 
barley 

Beau  Feilding,  Robert  Feilding, 
one  of  the  rakes  of  Charles  II. 's 
court,  died  1712 

Bedral,  beadle,  sexton 

Begrutten,  exhausted  with  weep- 
ing 

Bell-waver,  to  stray,  straggle 
Belly-timber,  victuals,  food 
Benedicite,  bless  you  ;  a  blessing, 
grace 

Benedict  the  Thirteenth,  anti- 
pope,  deposed  in  1417,  though 
Scotland  recognised  him  down  to 
his  death  (1424) 

Benison,  blessing 

Bent,  takes  the.  See  Takes  the 
bent 

Besognio,  or  besonio,  worthless  fel- 
low 

Beza,  Theodore,  celebrated  Gene- 
vese  Reformer,  and  supporter  of 
Calvin 

Biberes,  permission  to  take  wine, 
strong  drink 


484 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Bickers,  trickles,  moves  quickly 
Bide  the  bang,  bear  the  brunt,  hold 
out 

Bield,  shelter 
Bigg,  build 

Birn.    See  Cut  and  birn 

Blink,  a  moment 

Bob,  bobbit,  dance,  danced 

Bodin,  provided,  furnished 

Boddle,  or  bodle,  a  copper  coin  of 
Scotland  =  &th  penny  English 

Bogle,  ghost,  h obgoblin 

Boll,  a  dry  measure  =  6  bushels 

Bolting,  separating  the  coarse  from 
the  fine  flour  by  passing  through 
a  sieve  or  bolting-cloth 

Bonnet-piece,  a  gold  coin  of  James 
V.,  the  most  beautiful  of  the  Scot- 
tish series ;  the  effigies  of  the  sover- 
eign is  represented  wearing  a  bon- 
net 

Brangler,  wrangler,  brawler 
Broach,  roasting  spit 
Brochan,  thick  oatmeal  gruel 
Brogue,  shoe 

Broken,  outlawed,  driven  out 

Brown  Man  of  the  Moors.  See  In- 
troduction to  Black  Dwarf 

Buchanan,  George,  the  greatest  of 
Scottish  scholars,  tutor  to  Queen 
Mary  and  to  James  VI. 

Buist,  brand  or  mark  on  cattle 

Bullsegg,  gelded  bull 

Burnie,  small  brook 

Byre,  cow-shed,  cow-house 

Cabalists,  professors  of  a  mystic 
and  secret  system  of  theology, 
philosophy,  and  magic,  which 
flourished  amongst  the  Jews  of 
the  later  Middle  Ages 

Cadmus,  the  mythical  founder  of 
Thebes  in  Ancient  Greece,  and 
traditional  inventor  of  the  al- 
phabet 

Cairn,  a  heap  of  stones  rudely  piled 
up 

Callant,  a  stripling,  lad 
Caller,  fresh 
Callet,  a  wanton,  drab 
Calm  sough,  a  quiet  tongue,  silence 
Cantrip,  frolic,  trick 
Canty  quean,  a  sprightly  young 
woman 

Carta,  etc.  (p.  410),    The  city  is 

taken  by  the  will  of  God 
Captain  Absolute.    See  Sheridan's 

Rivals,  Act  i.  sc.  1 
Captain  Greenland,  Adventures  of 


Captain  Greenland  (London,  1752) i 
an  anonymous  publication 
Captain  Grose,  an  antiquary,  11  the 
chield  amangyou  takin'  notes,"  in 
Burns's  poem  beginning  "  Hear, 
land  o'  cakes  and  brither  Scots" 
Carbonadoed,  broiled  on  coals 
Carey,    Henry,  a  son   of  Lord 

Hunsdon 
Caritas,  a  special  indulgence 
Carl,  or  carle,  rustic  fellow 
Carline,  old  woman 
Cassilis.  See  Ivanhoe,  Note  12 
Cast,  fate,  lot ;  chance,  opportunity  ; 

kind ;  sample,  kind 
Cates,  delicacies,  fine  confectionery 
Causa  scienti^e,  reason  for  knowing 
Cawker,  hinder  part  of  a  horse-shoe 
Cessford,  Laird  of,  of  the  family  of 

Ker,  a  Border  chief 
Chalder,  an  old  dry  measure  = 

nearly  16  qrs.  of  corn 
Chalmers,    George,   Scottish  an- 
tiquary,   author    of  Caledonia 
(1807-24) 
Champion  of  the  Jews,  Samson 
Cheerer,  the  cheering  cup,  a  glass 
of  spirits 

Cid  Hamet  Benengeli,  reputed 
original  author  of  Don  Quixote 

Ciprus,  Cyprus,  or  cypress,  a  thin 
transparent  kind  of  crape 

Citizen  of  the  World,  or  Letters 
from  a  Chinese  Philosopher  in  Lon- 
don to  his  Friends  in  the  East  (1762), 
by  Oliver  Goldsmith 

Clachan,  village  hamlet 

Clecking,  brood,  cletch 

Cleuch,  cliff,  ravine 

Cloot,  a  hoof 

Clouted,  patched,  mended 

Cock-laird,  a  yeoman  or  small 
proprietor 

Coil,  pother,  rumpus,  tumult 

Colmslie,  Laird  of.  See  footnote  to 
p.  9 

Compostella.  See  St.  James  of 
Compostella 

COMPTE  DE  LA  MOTTE-FOUQUE'S  WA- 
TER-NYMPH, in  Undine  (V&ll) 
Confiteor,  a  confession  of  sins,  a 
form  of  prayer  used  in  Roman  ■ 
Catholic  services 
Constancy,  of  a,  incessantly 
Coquinarius,  one  connected  with 

the  kitchen 
Coranto,  a  quick  and  lively  dance 
Couvre-chef,  a  woman's  head-ker- 
chief, curch 


GLOSSARY. 


485 


Cracking,      talking,      gossiping ; 

cracks,  stories,  legends 
Craig,  crag,  neck 

Crambe  bis  cocta,  cabbage  twice 
boiled 

Cree,  a  river  dividing  the  counties 
of  Wigtown  and  Kirkcudbright 

Cricket-stool,  a  low  stool 

Cromlech,  a  rude  monument,  gen- 
erally a  large  flat  stone  resting  on 
two  or  more  upright  ones 

Crook,  bend 

Crossraguel,  an  abbey  in  Ayrshire 

Cruive,  a  kind  of  fish-trap  in  a  dam 

Cummer,  neighbour,  gossip 

Ctjrch,  a  woman's  head-kerchief 

Cushat,  wood-pigeon 

Cut  and  birn,  marks  made  on  an 
animal's  hide  with  scissors  or 
burning-iron  by  its  owner 

Cutter,  ruffian,  bully 

CUTTIE-STOOL,  a  low  Stool 

Cymbalum,  a  bell,  gong 
Cynthia's  Revels,  by  Ben  Jonson 
Cyprus.  SeeCiprus 

Daffin,  larking,  folly 

Da  mihi,  etc.  (p.  235),  give  me  some 

wine,  I  beg,  and  let  it  be  pure 
Da  mixtus,  give  us  the  mixture  (of 

wine  and  water) 
Darg,  task,  work 
Decored,  decorated 
Decretals,  the  Second  Part  of  the 
.  Canon  Law,  containing  the  Papal 

decrees  or  edicts 
Deer's  hair,  heath  club-rush 
Deliverly,  clever,  nimble 
Deo  gratias,  Thank  God 
Dependence,  a   fencer's  term  for 

the  existing  quarrel 
De  profundis  clamavi,  From  the 

depths  I  have  cried 
Din,  ado,  fuss 

Discipulus,  etc.  (p.  251),  a  diligent 
and  strenuous  student 

Dispone  upon,  dispose  of 

Dixit  Abbas,  etc.  (p.  212).  The  ab- 
bot said  to  the  prior,  You  are  a 
well-conducted  man,  because  you 
always  give  me  wiser  counsels 

Don  Armado,  a  fantastical  charac- 
ter in  Shakspeare's  Love's  Labour's 
Lost 

Donatus,  the  Latin  primer  from 
which  boys  were  taught  for  many 
generations 

Dool,  sorrow 

Dorts,  in  a  pet,  sullen  humour 


Double  strike,  of  the,  with  twice 
the  usual  quantity  of  malt 

Doune,  in  Perthshire,  9  miles  from 
Stirling,  celebrated  for  its  cattle 
fairs,  especially  the  great  fair  in 
Novemjber 

Downa,  cannot 

Down-bye,  down  yonder  where  I 
live 

Dry  march,  a  portion  of  the  Border, 
on  the  Scottish  side,  extending 
from  the  vicinity  of  Yetholm  to 
the  Tweed 

Dunbar,  William,  Scottish  poet, 
flourished  end  of  15th  century, 
reputed  author  of  the  humorous 
satire  Freiris  of  Berwyk 

DUNDRENAN,      Or     DuNDRENNAN,  5 

miles  from  Kirkcudbright,  in  Gal- 
loway 

Earded,  buried 
Ee-lid,  eyelid 

Effeirs  to,  concerns,  benefits 
Eld,  antiquity 

Emboscata,  or  imboscata,  an  am- 
buscade 

Enfans  perdus,  the  forlorn  hope 

Enow,  eneuch,  enough 

Entretiens  du  Compte  du  Ga- 
balis,  by  De  Montfaucon,  Abbe' 
de  Villars,  a  book  (1670)  dealing 
in  part  with  the  "  secret  sciences  " 

Escaramouche,  skirmish 

Esprit  follet,  goblin 

ESTRAMAZONE,  OT  STRAMAZON,  slash- 
ing cut  with  a  sword 

Et  exaudivit,  etc.  (p.  390).  And 
the  Lord  heard  the  voice  of  Elias, 
and  the  soul  of  the  child  returned 
again  unto  him,  and  he  revived 

Ettle,  attempt  or  aim  to  reach 

Even,  to  equal,  compare 

Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  by 
Ben  Jonson 

Evident,  title-deeds 

Ex  cathedra,  from  the  chair,  au- 
thoritatively 

Exised,  imposed  upon,  overcharged 

Fabliau,  an  ancient  tale  in  verse. 

See  Italian  novelist  below 
Facinora,  etc.  (p.  115),  Misdeeds 

should  be  punished  openly,  but 

grave  offences  in  secret 
Falcon-gentle,  the  female  goshawk 
Far  ben,  far  in  favour 
Fash,  fasherie,  trouble ;  fasheous, 

troublesome 


486 


Fend,  shift 

Fernieherst,  Ker  of,  a  Border 
chief  and  devoted  adherent  of 
Queen  Mary 

Firlot,  a  Scotch  dry  measure  =  1£ 
bushels  0 

Flam,  Flan,  or  flawn,  a  kind  of 
custard,  pancake 

Fleech,  to  flatter 

Fleighter,  flicker 

Flyboat,  a  light  swift  sail-boat ; 
long,  narrow,  flat-bottomed  boat 

Forbye,  besides,  except 

Forest,  the,  Ettrick  Forest  in  Sel- 
kirk shire 

Foregather,  to  meet,  associate  with 

Fortune  de  la  guerre,  (such  is)  the 
fortune  of  war 

Fou,  full,  drunk 

Fowberry,  on  the  river  Till  in 
Northumberland .  Fowberry 
Tower  was  attacked  by  the  Scots 
in  1524,  and  again  in  1532 

Frampler,  unruly,  quarrelsome 
person 

Frater  ad  succurrendum,  an  as- 
sisting brother 

Gad,  spear 
Gaed,  went 

Galliard,  a  dance  for  two  persons, 
a  precursor  of  the  minuet 

Galligaskins,  a  sort  of  wide 
trowsers 

Gambadoes,  or  gambades,  gambol- 
lings,  prancings ;  leggings,  gai- 
ters 

Gang,  gane,  go,  gone 

Gar,  force,  make 

Gate,  gait,  way,  direction,  road 

Gathering  turf,  piece  left  alight  to 
keep  the  fire  alive 

Gaul,  or  gall,  to  wound,  vex.  Com- 
pare spur-galled 

Gear,  goods,  property,  harness; 
business 

Ger,  force,  make  to 

Gey,  pretty,  very 

Gill,  gully,  glen,  ravine 

Gines  de  Passamonte.  See  Don 
Quixote,  Pt.  II.  chaps,  xxvi.- 
xxviii. 

Girdle,  round  iron  plate  for  cook- 
ing scones  and  cakes 
Girth  gate,  asylum,  protection 
Gt,ed,  a  kite 

Gleg,  quick,  clever,  sharp 
Gliff,  a  short  time 
Gnar,  a  short,  stout  man 


NOVELS. 

Goodman,  or  gudeman,  head  of  a 

house 

Goodwife,  the  mistress  of  a  house- 
hold 
Gowd,  gold 

Gratias,  excuses,  favours,  thanks 
Gratias  agimus,  etc.  (p.  149),  Most 

reverend  father,  we  give  thee  our 

very  best  thanks 
Greet,  weep 

Greybeard,  stoneware  jar  for  hold- 
ing ale  or  spirits 
Grunds,  grounds,  dregs 
Gudewife,  mistress  of  a  house 
Guestened,  lodged  as  a  guest 
Guide,  treat,  behave  towards 
Guisards,  New  Year  maskers  or 
mummers,  who  (now  only  boys) 
go  from  house  to  house  singing 
carols  and  begging 
Gyre-carline,  hobgoblin 

Ha',  hall ;  to  have 

Hackbut,    hand  -  gun,  falconet, 

saker,  old  kinds  of  firearms 
Hae,  have 
Hag,  bog-pit 

Haggis,  a  Scotch  pudding  of 
minced  meat,  oatmeal,  etc. 

Haig  of  Bemerside.  The  prophecy 
is  otherwise  given  thus  :  "  Betide, 
betide,  whate'er  betide,  There'll 
aye  be  Haigs  on  Bemerside." 
tk  Haig  "  means  a  wood,  a  wooded 
inclosure,  the  haws  (fruit)  of  the 
hawthorn,  and  is  said  to  allude  to 
the  coppice  wood  on  the  steep 
slope  at  Bemerside 

Haill,  hale,  whole ;  haill  o'  my 
ain,  all's  for  me 

Hale  and  feir,  whole  and  en- 
tire 

Halidome,  land  held  under  a  re- 
ligious house 

Hallow-e'en,  All  -  Hallow's 
(Saints') -Eve 

Haly,  holy 

Harquebusier.  a  soldier  armed  with 
a  hackbut 

Hart  of  grease,  a  hart  in  the  best 
of  condition 

Haud,  hold,  keep 

Ha  vena,  have  not 

Havings,  manners 

Hay,  a  peasant  who  turned  the  tide 
of  victory  at  Luncarty,  and  be- 
came ancestor  of  the  Scottish 
houses  of  Errol,  Tweeddale,  and 
Kinnoul 


GLOSSARY. 


487 


Heather  -  bleater,  or  bleater, 
cock-snipe 

Heckled,  cleaned,  combed,  and 
straightened 

Helvetius,  system  of,  a  scheme 
of  education  laid  down  in  De 
V  Homme,  de  ses  Facultes,  et  de  son 
Education  (1772),  by  the  French 
philosopher  C.  A.  Helvetius 

Hempie,  a  romp 

Heron,  Sir  George,  of  Chipchase, 
slain  in  the  fight  of  Reidswire. 
See  Scott's  Border  Minstrelsy,  vol. 
ii.  pp.  15-31 

Heuch,  a  crag,  precipice 

Hidalgo,  a  Spanish  gentleman 

Hirsel,  flock,  drove 

History  of  Automathes.  John 
Kirkby's  Capacity  .  .  .  of  the 
Human  Understanding ,  exemplified 
in  the  .  .  .  Case  of  Automathes 
(1745) 

Hodiernal,  of  the  present  day 
Holofernes,  a  pedantic  school- 
master in  Love's  Labour's  Lost 
Holofernes,  chief  captain  of  the 
army  of  Nabuchodonosor,  king  of 
Assyria,  who  was  slain  by  a  pa- 
triotic Jewess.  See  Judith,  chaps, 
ii.-xiii. 

Holped  up,  embarrassed,  incom- 
moded 

Horse-couper,  horse-dealer 
Hospitium,     hospice,  hospitable 
room 

Hosting,  assemblage,  muster  of 
troops 

Hotel  de  Rambouillet,  the  gather- 
ing-place of  the  wits  and  poets  of 
Paris  in  the  first  half  of  the  17th 
century 

Housewifeskep,  house-keeping 
Howkit,  dug 

Humana  perpessi  sumus,  we  have 
suffered  the  common  ills  of  hu- 
manity 

Humorous,  full  of  whims 

Hunsdon,  Henry  Carey,  Lord  Huns- 
don,  first  cousin  to  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, was  made  governor  of  Ber- 
wick and  warden  of  the  East 
Marches  in  1568 

Incredulus  odi,  I  hate  the  incred- 
ible 

T N D r: LQ ENTI a ,  indulgence 
Tngine,  ingenuity 

Intravit  in  secretis  nostris,  He 
has  entered  into  our  secrets 


Invecta  et  illata,  goods  brought 
by  the  tenant  to  the  property  he 
rents 

Italian  novelist  (p.  33),  neither 
Boccaccio  nor  Bandello.  The  fa- 
bliau is  Le  Povre  Clerc,  printed  in 
Montaiglon  and  Raynaud,  Becneil 
General  des  Fabliaux,  vol.  v.  (1883) 

Ither,  other 

Japes,  deceptions,  mockeries 
Jedwood,  Jeddart,  Jedborough,  in 
Roxburghshire ;   Jeddart  means 
also  the  district  of  Jedburgh  or 
Jedwood 
Joe,  a  sweetheart 

John  the  Armstrang,  or  Johnie 
Armstrong^  celebrated  Borderer. 
See  Scott's  Death  of  the  Laird's  Jock, 
or  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border, 
i.  392 

Judas  Maccabeus,  leader  of  the 
patriotic  Jews  against  Antiochus, 
king  of  Syria,  in  the  2d  century 
b.  c. 

Justice  air,  or  eyre,  the  circuit 

court,  assizes 
Juvenal,  youth 

Kain,  rent  paid  in  kind,  e.g.  poul- 
try, butter,  eggs,  cheese 
Keeking-glass,  looking-glass 
Kelpy,  a  water-spirit 
Ken,  know  ;  kenna,  know  not 
Kennedie.    See  Jvanhoe,  Note  12 
Kenspeckle,  easily  recognised,  con- 
spicuous 

Kirk-town,  village  or  hamlet  where 
stands,  or  once  stood,  a  parish 
church 

Kirn,  a  churn 

Kist,  chest 

Knaveship,  the  perquisite  of  the 
miller's  servant.  See  Note  8,  p. 
471 

Knowe,  a  little  hill 
Kyte,  stomach,  belly 

Laith,  loth 

Lamping,  hurrying  with  long  steps, 
.   gadding  about 

Lanercost  Abbey,  close  to  the 
Roman  Wall  in  Cumberland 

Lang-cale,  unshorn  coleworts  or 
greens 

Langsyne,  long  ago 

Lap,  leaped,  ran 

Lapis  offensionis,  etc.  (p.  290),  a 


488 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


stone  of  offence  and  rock  of  stum- 
bling 

Lawing,  the  bill,  account 
Leaguer,  besieged 
Leddy,  lady 
Lee,  lie 

Leslie,  Norman,  called  Master  of 
Rothes,  an,  enemy  to  Cardinal 
Beaton,  whom  he  slew  partly  in 
revenge  for  George  Wishart's 
death 

Les  Voyages  Imaginaires,  by 
Charles  G.  T.  Garnier,  in  39  vols. 
(1787) 

Levin-bolt,  thunderbolt 
Lifting,  removing,  stealing 
Limmar,  or  limmer,  scoundrel 
Lippy,  I  of  a  peck 

Lisbon,  a  light-coloured  Portuguese 

wine,  shipped  at  Lisbon 
Listed,  desired 
Lith,  a  joint 

Lochmaben,  Castle  of,  in  Dum- 
friesshire, the  ancestral  home  of 
the  Bruces 

Loon,  fellow 

Lord  James,  Queen  Mary's  illegiti- 
mate brother,  the  Earl  of  Murray 
of  this  novel 

Lords  of  the  Congregation,  a  title 
assumed  in  1558  by  the  leaders  of 
the  Scottish  Reformers 

Loretto,  Our  Lady  of,  a  celebrated 
shrine  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  at 
Loretto,  on  the  Adriatic  coast  of 
Italy,  15  miles  from  Ancona 

Luckie,  mother,  a  generic  title  giv- 
en to  old  dames 

LUNCARTY,       BATTLE      OF,  fought 

shortly  before  994  between  the 
Danes  and  Scots,  near  to  Perth. 
The  Scots,  when  on  the  point  of 
being  routed,  were  saved  by  a 
peasant  named  Hay , with  the  help 
of  his  sons 
Lupus  in  fabula,  the  wolf  in  the 
fable 

Lyndsay,  or  Lindsay,  David,  a 
popular  16th  century  Scottish 
poet,  author  of  Satire  of  the  Three 
Estaitis  and  numerous  poems 

Maccabee.  See  2  Maccabees  xii.  16, 
an  allusion  to  the  capture  of  a 
strong  town,  Caspis,  "without 
rams  or  engines  of  war  " 

MacDupp's  peculiarity.  He  was 
not  born  of  woman.  See  Macbeth, 
Act.  v.  sc.  7 


Magician  in  the  Persian  Tales.  See 

H.  W.  Weber,  Tales  of  the  East 
(vol.  ii.  p.  452),  the  "History  of 
Avicene" 

Mail,  trunk-mail,  trunk  for  ap- 
parel, baggage 

Mails,  rent  charges 

Mair,  maist,  more,  most ;  mair  by 
token,  especially 

March-treason,  treason  against  the 
recognised  laws  of  a  march  or 
border  district 

Mark,  or  merk,  Scotch  coin  =  Is. 
l*d. 

Mart,  ox  killed  in  November  for 

winter  use 
Maun,  must 

Mazer  -  dish,  drinking  -  vessel,  or 
cup.  See  a  note  to  the  Lord  of  the 
Isles 

Meal-girnel,  meal-chest,  granary 
Mea  paupera  regna,  my  poor  ter- 
ritories 

Meating,  entertaining  with  food 
Melder,    the    quantity  of  meal 

ground  at  one  time 
Mellerstain,  a  part  of  Earlston 

parish,  6  miles   from  Kelso,  in 

Roxburghshire 
Menseful,  mannerly,  modest 
Meridian,  hour  of  repose  at  noon 
Merk.    See  Mark 

Merse,  an  old  name  for  Berwick- 
shire 

Mile,  Scotch = nearly  nine  furlongs 
Millburn  Plain  and  Netherby,  all 

along  the  Borders  from  east  to 

west 
Minion,  darling 
Minted,  aimed,  hinted  at 
Miser,  a  wretched  old  man 
Misleard,  ill-taught,  unmannerly 

MOLENDINAR,    MOLENDINARY,    of  OT 

belonging  to  a  mill 
Molinara,  maid  of  the  mill.  The 
miller's  wench  in  Don  Quixote,  Pt. 

I.  chap,  iii.,  is  called  Molinera 
Moral  teacher    ("I  preach  for 

ever,"  etc.,  p.  343),  George  Crabbe, 
author  of  The  Borough,  The  Parish 
Register,  etc. 
Morham,  should  be  Norham  Castle, 
on  the  Tweed,  6  miles  from  Ber- 
wick 

Mortreux,  a  kind  of  soup,  a  rare 

delicacy 

Moss,  bog,  moor  ;  moss-hag,  bog-pit 
Mot,  may 

Mountain  folks,  Cameronians,  the 


GLOSSARY. 


489 


sternest  sect  of  the  Presbyterians 
of  Scotland 

Muckle,  much,  great 

Mug  ewe,  or  mugg  ewe,  a  breed  of 
sheep  with  long  legs,  long  fine 
wool,  and  woolly  faces 

Multure,  mill  fee ;  dry  multure, 
a  fine  for  not  grinding  at  the  mill 
of  the  lordship ;  intown  mul- 
tures, the  dues  paid  by  tenants 
bound  to  use  a  particular  mill 

Mumpsimus  and  sumpsimus,  a  say- 
ing of  Henry  VIII.,  borrowed 
from  a  story  told  by  his  secretary 
Pace,  of  an  old  priest  who,  hav- 
ing for  thirty  years  wrongly  read 
his  breviary,  wThen  the  mistake 
was  pointed  out  to  him,  refused 
to  change  "  his  old  mumpsimus  for 
their  new  sumpsimus1''  (Camden's 
Remains,  ed.  1614,  p.  286) 

Murrey,  of  a  dark  red  colour 

Na,  nae,  no,  not 

Negatur,  Gulielme  Allan,  I  deny 

it,  William  Allan 
NEisT,  next 

Ne  sit  ancill^e,  etc.  (p.  52),  Be 
not  ashamed  of  loving  your  own 
servant 

Nicanor,  general  of  Antiochus,  king 
of  Syria.  See  1  Maccabees,  chap, 
vii. 

Nicker,  neigh 

Noble,  English  gold  coin  =  6s.  8d. 
Noited,  rapped,  struck 
Nombles,  the  entrails  of  a  deer 
No  Song,  no  Supper,  a  musical  farce 
by  Prince  Hoare,  music  by  Ste- 
phen Storace,  first  acted  in  April 
1790 

Obnubilated,  beclouded,  obscured 
O  gran  bonta,  etc.  (p.  384),  Oh 

great  the  goodness  of  the  ancient 

knights !  they  were  enemies,  and 

of  different  faith 
Old  Manor  House,  by  Charlotte 

Smith  (1793) 
Oremus,  prayers 
Orgillous,  proud 
Otium    cum    dignitate,  dignified 

leisure 

Outrecuidance,  arrogance 
Outshot,  a  projection 
Overcast,  got  over 

Palfreniers,  grooms 
Paracelsus,  a  Swiss  physician  and 


philosopher  of  the  16th  century, 
an  adept  in  the  Cabbala  and  simi- 
lar mystical  systems 

Paronomasia,  a  play  upon  words 

Party  per  pale,  divided  vertically 
into  two  equal  parts 

Passage,  to  walk  sideways  (a  horse) 

Pater,  the  Lord's  Prayer 

Patienza,  patience 

Pattle,  or  pettle,  plough  -  staff, 
plough-spud 

Pavin,  or  pavan,  a  slow,  stately 
dance 

Pearlins,  a  kind  of  lace 
Pedder-coffe,  a  pedlar,  hawker 
Peden,  a    famous  preacher  and 
prophet  of  the  Covenanters.  See 
Old  Mortality,  p.  476 
Pembroke,  Countess  of,  for  whom 
her  brother,  Sir  Philip  Sidney 
(Astrophel),  expressly  wrote  his 
Arcadia  (about  1578-80) 
Pereat  iste,  Let  him  perish 
Persian  Letters,  by  Montesquieu, 

the  well-known  French  writer 
Peter  Wilkins,  hero  of  a  fictitious 
book  of  travels  by  R.  Paltock,  or 
Pultock  (1750) 
Petrus  Eremita,  Peter  the  Hermit, 

who  led  part  of  the  first  crusade 
Phidele,  or  Phidyle,  to  whom 
Horace  addressed  the  23d  Ode  of 
the  Third  Book  of  Odes 
Piaffe,  to  step  with  a  high,  slow, 

showy  action,  said  of  a  horse 
Pinners,  a  lady's  headdress 
Play  the  Turk  with,  to  treat  with- 
out ceremony 
Ploy,  frolic,  entertainment 
Pock-pudding,  a  Scotchman's  con- 
temptuous name  for  an  English- 
man 

Poignet,  or  corrected  poignee,  han- 
dle 

Point-device,  or  devise,  with  the 

greatest  exactitude 
Poldroon,  or  pauldron,  the  piece 

of  armour   that   protected  the 

shoulder 
Pontage,  bridge-toll 
Pope  Julius,  the  second  of  the 

name,  a  man  distinguished  for 

his  military  and  political  abilities 
Portioner,  one  owning  a  portion 

of  land,  that  has  been  divided 

amongst  co-heirs 

POTTINGER,  COOk 

Pouncet-box,  a  box  for  holding  per- 
fume 


490 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Pow,  head 

President  of  Spectator's  club.  See 
Spectator,  No.  17 

Pricker,  a  light  horseman  ;  prick- 
ing, making  inroads,  raiding 

Prime,  midnight  service 

Principes,  etc.  (p.  411),  The  princes 
have  conspired  together  against 
the  Lord 

Promptuarium  Parvulorum,  a 
Latin-English  dictionary,  used  as 
a  school  book  from  the  early  part 
of  the  15th  century 

Prudhoe  Castle,  in  Northumber- 
land, 10  miles  west  of  Newcastle 

Puir,  poor 

Pund  Scots  =  Is.  8d.  English 
Pyet,  ornate 

QUiE  nunc,  etc.  (p.  238),  which  it 
would  take  too  long  to  enumer- 
ate at  present 
Qu^estionarii,  begging  friars 
Queen-Mother,  Mary  of  Lorraine, 
mother  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots 

Ramsay,  Allan,  Scottish  poet (1686- 
1758)  and  a  great  literary  author- 
ity in  Edinburgh,  where  he  es- 
tablished (1755)  the  first  circulat- 
ing library  in  Scotland 

Randolph,  Sir  Thomas,  Queen  Eliz- 
abeth's agent  at  the  court  of  Scot- 
land 

Rape,  a  rope 

Ratio  ultima  Rom^:,  the  last  ex- 
pedient of  Rome 
Rede,  counsel 
Reist,  stop,  jib 

Rem    acu  (tetegisti),  You  have 

touched  it  with  a  needle,  i.e.  hit 

the  nail  on  the  head 
Revestiary,  the  apartment  where 

the  ecclesiastical  vestments  are 

kept 

Rhadamanth,  in  ancient  Greek  my- 
thology, an  incorruptible  judge 
of  the  lower  world 

Richard  Cceur-de-Lion.  The  ex- 
ploit of  eating  the  carbonadoed 
Moor's  head  is  described  in  an  old 
ballad,  printed  as  an  Appendix  to 
the  Introduction  to  the  Talisman 

Rice  le,  a  heap 

Riding  Burn,  possibly  Redden 
Burn,  which  enters  trie  Tweed  a 
little  above  Coldstream 

Riflbb,  a  hawk  that  caught  its  prey 
by  the  feathers  only 


Rock,  distaff 

Rose  noble,  or  ryal,  an  English 
gold  coin,  worth  10s.,  and  bear- 
ing the  representation  of  a  rose, 
first  coined  by  Edward  IV. 

Rosicrucians,  mystical  philoso- 
phers who  professed  the  transmu- 
tation of  metals,  alchemy,  magic, 
and  so  forth  ;  flourished  in  17th 
and  18th  centuries 

Routing,  bellowing 

Rowan-tree,  mountain  ash,  a  talis- 
man against  witches 

Rowley,  monk  of  Bristol,  the  liter- 
ary name  of  Thomas  Chatterton, 
the  boy  poet 

Rudesby,  a  rude,  turbulent  fellow 

Rullion,  shoe  of  untanned  leather 

Rustic  wag  and  Whole  Duty  of  Man, 
in  No.  568  of  Spectator,  written  by 
Addison 

Sack  and  the  fork,  an  allusion  to 
the  feudal  right  of  exercising 
capital  punishment  by  hanging 
men  [furca,  fork,  gallows)  and 
drowning  women  (fossa,  pit) 

Sackless,  innocent 

Sae,  so 

Sain,  or  sane,  to  bless 

St.  Barnaby,  11th  June 

St.  James  of  Compostella,  whose 
shrine  at  Santiago  di  Compostella, 
in  Spanish  Galicia,  wTas  a  favour- 
ite place  of  pilgrimage  for  Eng- 
lishmen in  the  Middle  Ages 

St.  Pacomius,  stone  couch  of»  Pa- 
chomius,  one  of  the  earliest  Chris- 
tian hermits  of  Egypt,  lived  in 
the  4th  century,  and  for  fifteen 
years  never  lay  down,  but  rested 
by  sitting  on  a  stone 

Sair,  sore,  sorrowful 

Salvage  man,  a  savage,  wild  forest- 
man 

Salve  Regina,  hail,  0  queen 
Sansculottes,  the  French  Revolu- 
tionists 

Saraband,  a  lively  Spanish  dance ; 

also  the  corresponding  air 
Sarsenet,  silken 
Sault-fat,  salting-tub 
Saumon,  salmon 

Savtola,  Vincentio,  one  of  the 
greatest  of  fencing-masters,  wrote 
V.  Saviolo,  his  Practice  (1595) 

Say,  or  Sey,  home-made  woollen 
cloth 

SCABELLA,  low  Stools 


GLOSSARY. 


491 


Scallop-shell,  worn  by  pilgrims 

who  had  been  in  the  Holy  Land 
Scaur,  precipitous  earthen  bank 
Semple,  Lord,  one  of  the  leaders  of 

the  Reformation  in  Scotland 
Sergeant  Kite,   a  character  in 

George  Farquhar's  comedy,  The 

Recruiting  Sergeant 
Shaw,  a  thicket,  copse 
Shealing,  hut 

Shell-work,  crocheting  shell  pat- 
terns in  wool,  cotton,  etc. 

Shieling  hill,  place  where  corn 
was  winnowed  by  hand 

Shot -window,  a  small  projecting 
window 

Sic,  such 

SlMMIE  AND  HIS  BROTHER,  tWO  beg- 
ging friars,  whose  accoutrements 
and  roguery  make  the  subject  of 
an  old  Scottish  satirical  poem — 
published  in  David  Laing's  Select 
Remains  of  Ancient  Popular  Poetry 
U822) 

Singult,  sigh,  sob 

Skelping,  galloping 

Skirl,  to  cry,  lament 

Slops,  sort  of  trouser 

Slot,  scent 

Snatcher,  a  semi-military  plun- 
derer 

Snood,  the  ribbon  confining  the 

hair  of  a  Scottish  maiden 
Sore  saint  for  the  crown,  is  at- 
tributed to  King  James  I.,  David's 
immediate  successor 
Sort,  chastise  ;  manage,  attend  to 
Sough,  calm.    See  Calm  sough 
Soupirail,  a  small  aperture,  shot- 
hole 

Spauld,  shoulder 
Speered.  asked 

Spence,  pantry ;  also  the  room 
where  the  family  took  their 
meals 

Springald,  a  stripling 

Spur-whang,  spur-leather,  strap 

Spurtle,  stick  used  for  stirring  por- 
ridge, broth,  etc. 

Standing-cup,  a  large  drinking-ves- 
sel,  usually  ornamented,  and  kept 
on  a  sideboard  or  cupboard 

Stand  of  claithes,  suit  of  clothes 

Start  and  overloup,  a  sudden 
break  away 

Steek  of  claithes,  stitch  of  clothes 

Steer,  or  stir,  molest,  injure 

Stoccata,  direct  thrust 

Stocking,  live  stock 


Stone  couch  of  St.  Pacomius.  See 
St.  Pacomius' 

Stone-eater,  a  man  who  professed 
to  swallow  and  digest  stones. 
One  exhibited  himself  in  the 
Strand  in  1788  ;  another,  a  Span- 
iard, at  the  Richmond  Theatre, 
London,  in  1790 

Stoup,  a  drinking- vessel,  liquid 
measure 

Straik,  blow 

Suck  en,  jurisdiction  attached  to  a 
mill 

Swankie,  smart  fellow 
Swarf' d,  fainted 

Takes  the  bent,  flees,  takes  to  flight 
Tasker,  a  day-labourer 
Teind-sheaves,  sheaves  payable  as 
tithes 

Thirl,  thirlage,  the  obligation  to 
grind  corn  at  a  certain  mill  and 
pay  certain  dues  for  its  mainten- 
ance 

Thraw,  twist 

Three  Cranes,  a  celebrated  tavern 
in  the  Vintry,  a  part  of  Upper 
Thames  Street,  between  London 
Bridge  and  Blackfriars  Bridge. 
The  tavern  was  a  rendezvous  for 
the  wits  of  Ben  Jonson's  time 
( Barth.  Fair,  i.  1) 

Threep,  to  aver  strongly 

Through-stane,  a  flat  gravestone 

Timeously,  in  time 

Tirl,  to  strip,  pluck  off 

Tishbite,  Elijah ;  the  allusions  of 
the  text  (p.  390)  are  to  Elisha 

Tocher,  dowry 

To  choose!  in  preference,  rather 

that  than  

Tod,  a  fox 
Tolbooth,  prison 

Tout  genre,  etc.  (p.  20) ,  Everything 
is  permitted  except  what  is  tedi- 
ous 

Transmew,  to  transform,  change 

Tressure,  a  heraldic  border,  frame 

Troggs,  by  my,  by  my  troth  !  a  vul- 
gar oath 

Tuilzie,  quarrel,  fray 

Turkey  (slippers) ,  leather  prepared 
in  a  peculiar  way 

Turn-broche,  turnspit  (boy) .  Dogs 
were  also  trained  to  serve  as  turn- 
spits 

Twa,  two 

Twal,  twelve 

Tyke,  dog,  cur 


492 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Umquhile,  the  late 
Unchancy,  unlucky,  dangerous 
Unhouseled,  without  receiving  the 

sacrament 
Upland,  rural,  rude 
Usquebaugh,  whisky 
Utinam,  etc.  (p.  9),  I  wish  I  may 

fill  this  also  with  my  friends 

Vassail,  vessels  used  at  feasts 
Venice,  pardons,  permissions 
Venue,  a  turn,  bout  at  fencing 
Vestiarius,  wardrobe-keeper 
Viatoribus  licitum  est,  It  is  per- 
mitted to  travellers 
Villagio,  peasant 
Vino  gravatus,  overcome  with 

wine 
Vivers,  victuals 

Wad,  would  ;  wadna,  would  not 
Wassail,  ale  mixed  with  wine,  and 

flavoured  with  spices,  fruit,  etc. 
Wastel-bread,  or  wassell  -bread, 

bread  made  of  the  finest  flour 
Water,  valley,  district 
Waur,  worse 
Wean,  a  child 

Weel-scrapit  tongue,  a  guarded 
tongue 

Weight,  or  wecht,  a  Scottish  win- 
nowing instrument 
Weirded,  fated 
Weise,  direct,  guide 


Welt,  an  edging,  braiding 
Wem,  scar,  mark 
Whiffling,  trifling,  talking  idly 
Whiles,  at  whiles,  sometimes 
Whippers,   probably  smart  folk, 

young  bloods 
Whirried  away,  hurried  away 
White-seam,  underclothing  in  pro- 
cess of  making 
Wight,  doughty,  strong 
Wilson,  Gavin,  his  poems  are  en- 
titled A  Collection  of  Masonic  Songs 
(1788) 

Winnow  my  three  weights  o'  nae- 
thing,  a  Halloween  incantation. 
41  You  go  to  the  barn  and  open 
both  doors.  .  .  .  Then  take  .  .  . 
a  wecht,  and  go  through  all  the 
attitudes  of  letting  down  corn 
against  the  wind  .  .  .  three 
times,"  and  you  will  see  the  fig- 
ure of  your  future  spouse — note 
to  Burns,  Halloween 

Win  to,  reach,  arrive  at 

WlSEHEART,   Or  WlSHART,  GEORGE, 

a  martyr  for  the  Reformation  doc- 
trines, burnt  alive  at  St.  Andrews 
in  1545 

Witness,  with  a,  effectually,  with 
a  vengeance 

Yammer,  shriek,  cry  aloud 
Yaud,  a  work-horse 
Yett,  gate 


INDEX. 


Abbot.   See  Boniface,  Eustace 
"Alas!  alas!  not  ours  the  grace," 
169 

Allan  Glen,  6 
All-Hallow's  Eve,  79,  83 
11  A  mightier  wizard  far  than  I,"  229 
"Ask  thy  heart,  whose  secret  cell," 
230 

Attaint,  214,  472 

Author's  Introduction,  5 ;  answer  to 
Captain  Clutterbuck's  Letter,  49 

Avenel,  Alice  of,  73 ;  takes  refuge  at 
Glendearg,  76 ;  reads  from  the 
Book,  84 ;  death,  125 

Avenel,  Julian,  81,  288  ;  description 
of,  294 ;  his  reception  of  Halbert 
and  Warden,  298 ;  spurns  Cather- 
ine, 307 ;  his  crooked  policy,  377, 
405  ;  prototype  of,  309,  474 

Avenel,  Mary,  77;  sees  the  White 
Lady,  79 ;  sees  her  father's  ghost, 
86 ;  her  relations  to  Halbert  and 
JEdward,  157 ;  description  of  her, 
181 ;  interposes  between  Halbert 
and  Sir  Piercie,  201 ;  tries  to  hold 
back  Halbert,  264 ;  accuses  Sir 
Piercie  of  murder,  319 ;  her  sor- 
row for  Halbert,  368 ;  visited  by 
the  White  Lady,  369 ;  discovers 
the  Book,  372  ;  marriage  and  set- 
tlement at  Avenel  Castle,  465 

Avenel,  Walter,  73 

Avenel  Castle,  287,  465,  474 

Bailie,  of  the  monastery,  146 
Ballantyne,  Mr.  John,  57 
Beef  sold  by  measure,  142,  471 
Benedictine   stranger    at  Kenna- 

quhair,  30 ;  searches  the  ruins,  41 ; 

gives  the  Memoirs  to  Captain  Clut- 

terbuck,  44 
Black  Ormiston,  Laird  of,  474 
Bolton,  Stawarth,  at  Glendearg,  69; 

disarmed  by  Halbert,  439  ;  left  as 

a  hostage,  443  ;  exposes  Sir  Piercie, 

m 

Boniface,  Abbot,  92;  his  troubles, 


104 ;  in  counsel  with  Father  Eu- 
stace, 108  ;  his  alarm  for  Father 
Philip,  111 ;  hears  Father  Eu- 
stace's confession,  149 ;  visits 
Glendearg.  205  ;  receives  Sir  Pier- 
cie's  explanation,  213  ;  at  dinner, 
233 ;  proposes  to  make  Halbert 
his  forester,  236,  245  ;  his  resigna- 
tion, 413 

Book,  Lady  Avenel' s,  84;  mysteri- 
ous return  of,  122  ;  in  the  fairy 
cavern,  166 ;  discovered  by  Mary, 
372 

Borderers,  good  faith  of,  407,  477 
Border  wars,  60,  68,  430 
Bourne,  Geordie,  474 
Bridge-end,  99,  470 
"  By  ties  mysterious  link'd,"  230 

Carey,  Sir  Robert,  quoted,  474 
Carta  de  Pitancia  Centum  IAbrarum, 
478 

Catherine  of  Newport,  295  ;  spurned 
by  Julian,  307  ;  found  on  the  bat- 
tlefield, 436 
Chalmers,  on  Douglas  pedigree,  479 
Christie  of  the  Clinthill,  130  ;  quar- 
rels with  Father  Eustace,  131;  a 
prisoner  in  the  monastery,  142; 
freed  by  Eustace,  146;  guides  Sir 
Piercie  to  Glendearg,  184 ;  leads 
Halbert  and  Warden  into  the 
castle,  292 ;  takes  Warden  to  Glen- 
dearg, 374 ;  unfolds  Julian's  pol- 
icy, 377,  405    sets  off  to  find  Sir 
Piercie,  417;  his  death,  437 
Church  vassals,  in  Scotland,  60,  469 
Cleishbotham,  Jedediah,  death  of, 
56 

Clutterbuck,  Captain,  Introductory 
Epistle  from,  21 ;  interview  with 
the  Benedictine,  30 ;  helps  him  in 
his  search,  41 ;  receives  the  Mem- 
oirs, 44 

Colmslie  tower,  8 

"  Complain  not  of  me,"  232 

Corrie-nan-Shian,  glen  of,  67,  268 


494 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Dan  of  the  Howlethirst,  348 
"  Daring  youth  !  for  thee  it  is  well," 
229 

11  Dim  burns  the  once  bright  star," 
231 

"  Do  not  ask  me,"  230 

Douglas  family,  pedigree  of,  456,  479 

Editors,  fictitious,  53 

Epithets,  quaint,  use  of,  201,  472 

Euphuism,  15,  188,  476 

Eustace,  Father,  his  position  at 
Kennaquhair,  105 ;  in  counsel 
with  the  abbot,  108;  visits  Glen- 
dearg,  118  ;  altercation  with  Chris- 
tie, 131 ;  carries  oft  the  Book,  135  ; 
encounter  with  the  White  Lady, 
136;  liberates  Christie,  146;  his 
confession  to  the  abbot,  149 ;  his 
views  regarding  Edward,  154 ; 
listens  to  Sir  Piercie's  explana- 
tions, 213;  checks  Edward's  vio- 
lence, 321,  334;  cross-questions 
Sir  Piercie,  323 ;  has  Warden 
brought  before  him,  380 ;  hears 
Edward's  confession,  392;  leaves 
Warden  at  Glendearg,  400  ;  inter- 
view with  the  distracted  abbot, 
409 ;  in  face  of  danger,  445 ;  re- 
fuses Warden's  intercession,  449  ; 
heads  the  procession,  453;  con- 
fronts Murray  and  Morton,  459 

Fairies,  superstitions  regarding,  6, 
77,  469,  480  ;  cavern  of,  166 
Fare  thee  well,  thou  holly  green," 
466 

Feus,  feuars,  in  Scotland,  60 

Fops  and  fashionables,  17 ;  in  the 

16th  century,  475 
Foster,  Sir  John,  438  ;  meeting  with 
Murray,  440  ;  appealed  to  by  Mor- 
ton, 442 

Gallantry,  in  time  of  war,  70,  469 

George  Inn,  Melrose,  28 

Glendearg,  Tower  of,  8,  64 

G  lend  inning,  Edward,  70;  objects 
to  the  Book  being  taken  away, 
133 ;  Father  Eustace's  views  re- 
garding him,  154  ;  studying  with 
Mary,  157;  abashed  in  Sir  Pier- 
cie's presence,  189;  expostulates 
with  Halbert,  204;  awakened  by 
him,  261 ;  zeal  to  avenge  him,  321; 
reproved  by  Father  Eustace,  334  ; 
reports  Halbert  alive,  388;  his 
confession,  392;  sees  the  White 
Lady,  396 ;  a  novice  in  the  mon- 


astery, 451  ;  his  distress  at  Mary's 
marriage,  465 

Glendinning,  Elspeth,  69 ;  her  gos- 
sips with  Tibb  Tacket,  87,  315  ; 
visited  by  Father  Philip,  94 ;  by 
Father  Eustace,  120 ;  her  plans 
regarding  Halbert,  173;  at  the 
monastery,  462 

Glendinning,  Halbert,  70 ;  his  im- 
patience of  study,  157 ;  invokes 
the  White  Lady,  161;  in  the 
fairies'  cavern,  166 ;  resents  Sir 
Piercie's  behaviour,  193,  202  ;  goes 
a-hunting  with  Martin,  223  ;  seeks 
advice  from  the  White  Lady,  227  ; 
description  of  him,  241 ;  refuses 
the  abbot's  appointment,  245 ; 
shows  the  bodkin  to  Sir  Pier- 
cie, 247  ;  challenged  by  him,  254 ; 
his  troubled  thoughts,  259 ;  on 
the  way  to  the  glen,  267 ;  runs 
through  Sir  Piercie,  274;  meets 
Warden,  278  ;  taken  into  Avenel 
Castle,  293 ;  locked  in  his  room, 
310 ;  escapes,  313 ;  falls  in  with 
the  pedlar,  420  ;  meets  Murray's 
force,  422;  interview  with  him, 
425 ;  repels  Morton's  insinuation, 
431 ;  sent  forward  to  Sir  John 
Foster,  433;  encounter  with 
Stawarth  Bolton,  438;  picks  up 
Catherine's  infant,  440;  marries 
Mary  Avenel,  465 

Glendinning,  Simon,  68 

Glossary,  483 

"Good  evening,  sir  priest,"  136 
Good  neighbours.    See  Fairies. 
Gordon's  Iter  Septentrionale,  quoted, 
470 

Haig  of  Bemerside,  32 

Handfasting,  305,  474 

Heron,  Sir  George,  441 

Hilarius,  Brother,  the  refectioner, 

211 ;  recites  the  advantages  of  the 

abbot's  forester,  238 
Hillslap  tower,  8 

Indulgences,  to  monks,  411,  477 

Jack-men,  129.    See  also  Christie  of 

the  Clinthill 
Jonson,  Ben,  quoted,  472,  475 

Kennaquhair,  monastic  ruins  at, 
25  ;  description  of,  59,  454 

Kitchener.  236 

Knave,  miller's,  176,  471 

Kyle,  David,  of  George  Inn,  Mel- 
rose, 28 


INDEX. 


495 


Lochside  tower,  474 
"Look  on  my  girdle,"  231 
Lyly,  John,  188,  472 

MacFarlane's  geese,  180,  472 
11  Maiden,  whose  sorrows,"  370 
"Many  a  fathom  dark  and  deep," 
165 

"March,  march,  Ettrick  and  Tev- 
iotdale,"  310 

Martin,  the  shepherd,  75 ;  guides 
the  way  to  Glcndearg,  77  ;  resents 
Christie's  manner,  185;  his  talk 
with  Halbert,  223 

Melrose.    See  Kennaquhair 

"Merrily  swim  we,"  102 

Mill  dues,  172,  176,  471 

Miller,  dues  of,  171,  176,  471;  of 
Christ's  Kirk  on  the  Green,  171; 
Chaucer's,  471 

Miller,  Hob,  171,  206 

Misericord,  251,  473 

Monastery,  the  novel,  5 

Monastery  of  St.  Mary's.  See  Ken- 
naquhair 

Monks,  indulgences  to,  411,  477 

"Mortal  warp  and  mortal  woof," 
168 

Morton,  Earl  of,  428;  his  insinua- 
tion against  Halbert,  430  ;  speaks 
privily  with  Foster,  442 ;  inter- 
view with  Abbot  Eustace,  460 

Murray,  Lord  James,  425 ;  hears 
tidings  from  Morton,  430  ;  inter- 
view with  Sir  John  Foster,  441 ; 
with  Abbot  Eustace,  459 

Mysie  of  the  Mill,  172,  177 ;  con- 
trasted with  Mary  Avenel,  183 ; 
helps  in  the  kitchen,  206 ;  her 
compassion  for  Sir  Piercie,  341 ; 
aids  his  escape,  345  ;  her  distress 
at  his  leaving  her,  353;  consti- 
tutes herself  his  page,  364;  his 
wife,  464 

Nicolas,  Father,  148,  152,  409 

Pedlar,  the,  420  ;  guides  Halbert, 
421 

Peel-towers,  62 

Peter,  the  bridge-ward,  99 ;  his 
claims  examined  into  by  Father 
Eustace,  110;  conciliated  by  him, 
139 

Philip,  Father,  sent  to  confess 
Lady  Avenel  at  Glendearg,  93; 
carries  off  the  Book,  97 ;  his  ad- 
venture with  the  White  Lady, 
101 ;   his  sorry  plight,   112 ;  in 


counsel  with  the  abbot,  409  ;  rings 
the  bell  on  Murray's  approach, 
450 

Pinkie  Cleuch,  battle  of,  68 
Points,  trussing  of,  222,  473 

"Rash  thy  deed,"  167 

Reformation,  Reformers,  in  Scot- 
land, 105,  283,  304.  See  also  Ward- 
en, Henry 

Roman  Catholic  Church,  in  Scot- 
land, time  of  tale,  105,  377.  See 
also  Boniface,  Abbot,  and  Eu- 
stace, Father 

Scottish  affairs,  time  of  tale,  104, 

378,  410,  431 
Sequels,  miller's  dues,  176,  471 
Shafton,  Sir  Piercie,  Author's  ex- 
planation regarding,  14 ;  arrives  at 
Glendearg,  183  ;  his  line  speech, 
188,  201;  soliloquy  on  his  situa- 
tion, 204  ;  his  explanations  to  Ab- 
bot Boniface,  213 ;  shown  the 
bodkin,  247 ;  challenges  Halbert, 
254 ;  on  the  way  to  the  glen,  267  ; 
falls,  274  ;  accused  of  murder,  318  ; 
his  account  of  the  duel,  326 ;  es- 
capes from  Glendearg,  349 ;  gives 
Mysie  the  gold  chain, "353  ;  travels 
towards  Edinburgh,  356 ;  pro- 
poses to  march  against  Murray, 
446 ;  exposure  of  him,  461 ;  in- 
troduces his  wife,  464;  explana- 
tion of  the  bodkin  affair,  480 
Shagram,  Martin's  pony,  77 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  his  Astrophel, 
256 

Sommerville,  or  Somerville,  Lord, 

30  ;  foppery  of,  475 
Some,  to,  136,  471 
Stuart  family,  pedigree  of,  457,  480 
Stukely,  Thomas,  473 

Tacket,  Tibb,  74  ;  her  gossips  with 
Dame  Glendinning,  87,  315 

"They  ride  about  in  such  a  rage," 
129 

"This  is  the  day,"  228 

"Thou  who  seek'st  my  fountain 

lone,"  397 
"Thrice  to  the  holly  brake,"  161, 

227 

"Thy  craven  fear  my  truth  ac- 
cused," 164 
Tieck,  his  Peter  Mdnnchen,  480 
Town,  township,  in  Scotland,  61 

Warden,   Henry,  meets  Halbert, 


496 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


278 ;  led  into  Avenel  Castle,  293  ; 
reproves  Julian,  305;  imprisoned 
by  him,  309  ;  carried  prisoner  to 
Glendearg,  374 ;  his  history,  379  ; 
brought  before  Father  Eustace. 
381;  left  at  Glendearg  on  parole, 
400 ;  surrenders  himself  to  Abbot 
Eustace,  448  ;  intervenes  between 
Morton  and  Murray,  457 
Watt,  James,  50 

"  What  I  am  I  must  not  show,"  163 
White  Lady,  Author's  explanation 
of,.ll ;  appears  to  Mary,  79 ;  Tibb's 


account  of,  90;  encounter  with 
Father  Philip,  101 ;  with  Father 
Eustace,  13G ;  invoked  by  Hal- 
bert,  161 ;  gives  him  the  bodkin, 
232;  appears  in  Halbert's  bed- 
room, 261 ;  reveals  the  Book  to 
Mary,  370;  appears  to  Edward, 
396,  466 ;  her  last  appearance,  466 
u  Within  that  awful  volume  lies," 
165 

Yorke,  Rowland,  220,  473 
41  Youth  of  the  dark  eye,"  163 


END  OF  THE  MONASTERY. 


EFFIE  DEANS, 


Heart  of  Mid.,  Frontis. 


THE 

HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN 


By  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT,  BART. 


So  down  thy  hill,  romantic  Ashbourn,  glides 
The  Derby  dilly,  carrying  six  insides. 

—Frere. 


NEW  YORK: 

A.  L.  BURT,  PUBLISHER. 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


SeconD  Series. 

Hear,  Land  o'  Cakes  and  brither  Scots, 

Frae  Maidenkirk  to  Johnny  Groat's, 

If  there's  a  hole  in  a'  your  coats,  * 

I  rede  ye  tent  it ; 
A  chiel's  amang  you  takin'  notes, 

An'  faith  he'll  prent  it! 

Burns. 


Ahora  bien,  dixo  il  Cura,  traedme,  senor  hue'sped,  aquesos  libros,  que  los 
quiero  ver.  Que  me  place,  respondid  el,  y  entrando  en  su  aposento,  sacd  d$l  una 
maletilla  vieja  cerrada  con  una  cadenilla,  y  abrUndola  halld  en  ella  tres  libros 
grandes  y  unos  papeles  de  muybuena  letra  escritos  de  mano. — Don  Quixote, 
Parte  I.  Capitulo  xxxii. 

It  is  mighty  well,  said  the  priest ;  pray,  landlord,  bring  me  those  books, 
for  I  have  a  mind  to  see  them.  With  all  my  heart,  answered  the  host; 
and  going  to  his  chamber,  he  brought  out  a  little  old  cloke-bag,  with  a 
padlock  and  chain  to  it,  and  opening  it,  he  took  out  three  large  volumes, 
and  some  manuscript  papers  written  in  a  fine  character. — Jarvis's  Transla- 
tion. 


m 

INTRODUCTION 

TO 

THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


The  Author  has  stated  in  the  preface  to  the  Chronicles  of 
the  Canongate,  1827,  that  he  received  from  an  anonymous  cor- 
respondent an  account  of  the  incident  upon  which  the  following 
story  is  founded.  He  is  now  at  liberty  to  say  that  the  in- 
formation was  conveyed  to  him  by  a  late  amiable  and  ingenious 
lady,  whose  wit  and  power  of  remarking  and  judging  of 
character  still  survive  in  the  memory  of  her  friends.  Her 
maiden  name  was  Miss  Helen  Lawson,  of  Girthhead,  and  she 
was  wife  of  Thomas  Goldie,  Esq.,  of  Craigmuie,  Commissary 
of  Dumfries. 

Her  communication  was  in  these  words : 

"  I  had  taken  for  summer  lodgings  a  cottage  near  the  old 
Abbey  of  Lincluden.  It  had  formerly  been  inhabited  by  a 
lady  who  had  pleasure  in  embellishing  cottages,  which  she 
found  perhaps  homely  and  even  poor  enough ;  mine  therefore 
possessed  many  marks  of  taste  and  elegance  unusual  in  this 
species  of  habitation  in  Scotland,  where  a  cottage  is  literally 
what  its  name  declares. 

"From  my  cottage  door  I  had  a  partial  view  of  the  old 
Abbey  before  mentioned;  some  of  the  highest  arches  were 
seen  over,  and  some  through,  the  trees  scattered  along  a  lane 
which  led  down  to  the  ruin,  and  the  strange  fantastic  shapes 
of  almost  all  those  old  ashes  accorded  wonderfully  well  with 
the  building  they  at  once  shaded  and  ornamented. 

"  The  Abbey  itself  from  my  door  was  almost  on  a  level  with 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


j  cottage ;  but  on  coming  to  the  end  of  the  lane,  it  was  dis- 
covered to  be  situated  on  a  high  perpendicular  bank,  at  the 
foot  of  which  run  the  clear  waters  of  the  Cluden,  where  they 
hasten  to  join  the  sweeping  Mth, 

Whose  distant  roaring  swells  and  fa's. 

As  my  kitchen  and  parlour  were  not  very  far  distant,  I  one 
day  went  in  to  purchase  some  chickens  from  a  person  I  heard 
offering  them  for  sale.  It  was  a  little,  rather  stout-looking 
woman,  who  seemed  to  be  between  seventy  and  eighty  years 
of  age ;  she  was  almost  covered  with  a  tartan  plaid,  and  her 
cap  had  over  it  a  black  silk  hood,  tied  under  the  chin,  a  piece 
of  dress  still  much  in  use  among  elderly  women  of  that  rank 
of  life  in  Scotland ;  her  eyes  were  dark,  and  remarkably  lively 
and  intelligent.  I  entered  into  conversation  with  her,  and 
began  by  asking  how  she  maintained  herself,  etc. 

"  She  said  that  in  winter  she  footed  stockings,  that  is,  knit 
feet  to  country  people's  stockings,  which  bears  about  the  same 
relation  to  stocking-knitting  that  cobbling  does  to  shoemaking, 
and  is  of  course  both  less  profitable  and  less  dignified;  she 
likewise  taught  a  few  children  to  read,  and  in  summer  she 
whiles  reared  a  few  chickens. 

I  said  I  could  venture  to  guess  from  her  face  she  had  never 
been  married.  She  laughed  heartily  at  this,  and  said:  'I 
maun  hae  the  queerist  face  that  ever  was  seen,  that  ye  could 
guess  that.  Now,  do  tell  me,  madam,  how  ye  cam  to  think 
sae?'  I  told  her  it  was  from  her  cheerful  disengaged  counte- 
nance. She  said:  'Mem,  have  ye  na  far  mair  reason  to  be 
happy  than  me,  wi?  a  gude  husband  and  a  fine  family  o? 
bairns,  and  plenty  o?  everything?  For  me,  I'm  the  puirest 
o'  a?  puir  bodies,  and  can  hardly  contrive  to  keep  mysell  alive 
in  a'  thae  wee  bits  o'  ways  I  hae  telPt  ye.?  After  some  more 
conversation,  during  which  I  was  more  and  more  pleased  with 
the  old  woman's  sensible  conversation  and  the  naivete  of  her 
remarks,  she  rose  to  go  away,  when  I  asked  her  name.  Her 
countenance  suddenly  clouded,  and  she  said  gravely,  rather 
colouring :  'My  name  is  Helen  Walker ;  but  your  husband  kens 
weel  about  me.' 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  9 


"  In  the  evening  I  related  how  much  I  had  been  pleased, 
and  inquired  what  was  extraordinary  in  the  history  of  the  poor 
woman.  Mr.  said,  there  were  perhaps  few  more  re- 
markable people  than  Helen  Walker.  She  had  been  left  an 
orphan,  with  the  charge  of  a  sister  considerably  younger  than 
herself,  and  who  was  educated  and  maintained  by  her  exer- 
tions. Attached  to  her  by  so  many  ties,  therefore,  it  will  not 
be  easy  to  conceive  her  feelings  when  she  found  that  this  only 
sister  must  be  tried  by  the  laws  of  her  country  for  child- 
murder,  and  upon  being  called  as  principal  witness  against 
her.  The  counsel  for  the  prisoner  told  Helen,  that  if  she 
could  declare  that  her  sister  had  made  any  preparations,  how- 
ever slight,  or  had  given  her  any  intimation  on  the  subject, 
such  a  statement  would  save  her  sister's  life,  as  she  was  the 
principal  witness  against  her.  Helen  said:  'It  is  impossible 
for  me  to  swear  to  a  falsehood;  and,  whatever  may  be  the 
qonsequence,  I  will  give  my  oath  according  to  my  conscience.' 
p — The  trial  came  on,  and  the  sister  was  found  guilty  and 
condemned;  but,  in  Scotland,  six  weeks  must  elapse  between 
the  sentence  and  the  execution,  and  Helen  Walker  availed 
herself  of  it.  The  ver}^  day  of  her  sister's  condemnation,  she 
got  a  petition  drawn  up,  stating  the  peculiar  circumstances  of 
the  case,  and  that  very  night  set  out  on  foot  to  London. 

"  Without  introduction  or  recommendation,  with  her  simple, 
perhaps  ill-expressed,  petition,  drawn  up  by  some  inferior 
clerk  of  the  court,  she  presented  herself  in  her  tartan  plaid 
and  country  attire,  to  the  late  Duke  of  Argyle,  who  immedi- 
ately procured  the  pardon  she  petitioned  for,  and  Helen  re- 
turned with  it  on  foot,  just  in  time  to  save  her  sister. 

"  I  was  so  strongly  interested  by  this  narrative,  that  I  deter- 
mined immediately  to  prosecute  my  acquaintance  with  Helen 
Walker ;  but  as  I  was  to  leave  the  country  next  day,  I  was 
obliged  to  defer  it  till  my  return  in  spring,  when  the  first 
walk  I  took  was  to  Helen  Walker's  cottage. 

"  She  had  died  a  short  time  before.  My  regret  was  extreme, 
and  I  endeavoured  to  obtain  some  account  of  Helen  from  an 
old  woman  who  inhabited  the  other  end  of  her  cottage.  I  in- 
quired if  Helen  ever  spoke  of  her  past  history,  her  journey  to 


10 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


London,  etc.  'Na, '  the  old  woman  said,  '  Helen  was  a  wily 
body,  and  whene'er  ony  o'  the  neebors  asked  anything  about 
it,  she  aye  turned  the  conversation.5 

"  In  short,  every  answer  I  received  only  tended  to  increase 
my  regret,  and  raise  my  opinion  of  Helen  Walker,  who  could 
unite  so  much  prudence  with  so  much  heroic  virtue." 

This  narrative  was  inclosed  in  the  following  letter  to  the 
Author,  without  date  or  signature : 

"  Sir — The  occurrence  just  related  happened  to  me  twenty- 
six  years  ago.  Helen  Walker  lies  buried  in  the  churchyard 
of  Irongray,  about  six  miles  from  Dumfries.  I  once  proposed 
that  a  small  monument  should  have  been  erected  to  commemo- 
rate so  remarkable  a  character,  but  I  now  prefer  leaving  it  to 
you  to  perpetuate  her  memory  in  a  more  durable  manner." 

The  reader  is  now  able  to  judge  how  far  the  Author  has  im- 
proved upon,  or  fallen  short  of,  the  pleasing  and  interesting 
sketch  of  high  principle  and  steady  affection  displayed  by 
Helen  Walker,  the  prototype  of  the  fictitious  Jeanie  Deans. 
Mrs.  Goldie  was  unfortunately  dead  before  the  Author  had 
given  his  name  to  these  volumes,  so  he  lost  all  opportunity  of 
thanking  that  lady  for  her  highly  valuable  communication. 
But  her  daughter,  Miss  Goldie,  obliged  him  with  the  follow- 
ing additional  information: 

"  Mrs.  Goldie  endeavoured  to  collect  further  particulars  of 
Helen  Walker,  particularly  concerning  her  journey  to  London, 
but  found  this  nearly  impossible;  as  the  natural  dignity  of 
her  character,  and  a  high  sense  of  family  respectability,  made 
her  so  indissolubly  connect  her  sister's  disgrace  with  her  own 
exertions,  that  none  of  her  neighbours  durst  ever  question  her 
upon  the  subject.  One  old  woman,  a  distant  relation  of 
Helen's,  and  who  is  still  living,  says  she  worked  an  harvest 
with  her,  but  that  she  never  ventured  to  ask  her  about  her 
sister's  trial,  or  her  journey  to  Ldndon.  'Helen,'  she  added, 
'was  a  lofty  body,  and  used  a  high  style  o'  language.'  The 
same  old  woman  says  that  every  year  Helen  received  a  cheese 
from  her  sister,  who  lived  at  Whitehaven,  and  that  she  always 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  H 


sent  a  liberal  portion  of  it  to  herself  or  to  her  father's  family. 
This  fact,  though  trivial  in  itself,  strongly  marks  the  affection 
subsisting  between  the  two  sisters,  and  the  complete  conviction 
on  the  mind  of  the  criminal  that  her  sister  had  acted  solely 
from  high  principle,  not  from  any  want  of  feeling,  which 
another  small  but  characteristic  trait  will  further  illustrate. 
A  gentleman,  a  relation  of  Mrs.  Goldie's,  who  happened  to  be 
travelling  in  the  North  of  England,  on  coming  to  a  small  inn 
was  shown  into  the  parlour  by  a  female  servant,  who,  after 
cautiously  shutting  the  door,  said:  'Sir,  I'm  Nelly  Walker's 
sister.'  Thus  practically  showing  that  she  considered  her 
sister  as  better  known  by  her  high  conduct  than  even  herself 
by  a  different  kind  of  celebrity. 

"  Mrs.  Goldie  was  extremely  anxious  to  have  a  tombstone 
and  an  inscription  upon  it  erected  in  Irongray  churchyard; 
and  if  Sir  Walter  Scott  will  condescend  to  write  the  last,  a 
little  subscription  could  be  easily  raised  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood,  and  Mrs.  Goldie' s  wish  be  thus  fulfilled." 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add,  that  the  request  of  Miss 
Goldie  will  be  most  willingly  complied  with,  and  without  the 
necessity  of  any  tax  on  the  public. 1  Nor  is  there  much  occa- 
sion to  repeat  how  much  the  Author  conceives  himself  obliged 
to  his  unknown  correspondent,  who  thus  supplied  him  with  a 
theme  affording  such  a  pleasing  view  of  the  moral  dignity  of 
virtue,  though  unaided  by  birth,  beauty,  or  talent.  If  the 
picture  has  suffered  in  the  execution,  it  is  from  the  failure  of 
the  Author's  powers  to  present  in  detail  the  same  simple  and 
striking  portrait  exhibited  in  Mrs.  Goldie' s  letter. 
Abbotsford,  April  1,  1830. 


Although  it  would  be  impossible  to  add  much  to  Mrs. 
Goldie's  picturesque  and  most  interesting  account  of  Helen 
Walker,  the  prototype  of  the  imaginary  Jeanie  Deans,  the 
Editor  may  be  pardoned  for  introducing  two  or  three  anecdotes 
respecting  that  excellent  person,  which  he  has  collected  from 
a  volume  entitled  Sketches  from  Nature,  by  John  M'Diarmid, 
1  See  Tombstone  to  Helen  Walker.    Note  1. 


12 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


a  gentleman  who  conducts  an  able  provincial  paper  in  the 
town  of  Dumfries. 

Helen  was  the  daughter  of  a  small  farmer  in  a  place  called 
Dalquhairn,  in  the  parish  of  Irongray ;  where,  after  the  death 
of  her  father,  she  continued,  with  the  unassuming  piety  of  a 
Scottish  peasant,  to  support  her  mother  by  her  own  unre- 
mitted labour  and  privations ;  a  case  so  common  that  even  yet, 
I  am  proud  to  say,  few  of  my  countrywomen  would  shrink 
from  the  duty. 

Helen  Walker  was  held  among  her  equals  "  pensy, "  that  is, 
proud  or  conceited ;  but  the  facts  brought  to  prove  this  accu- 
sation seem  only  to  evince  a  strength  of  character  superior  to 
those  around  her.  Thus  it  was  remarked,  that  when  it  thun- 
dered, she  went  with  her  work  and  her  Bible  to  the  front  of 
the  cottage,  alleging  that  the  Almighty  could  smite  in  the  city 
as  well  as  in  the  field. 

Mr.  M'Diarmid  mentions  more  particularly  the  misfortune 
of  her  sister,  which  he  supposes  to  have  taken  place  previous 
to  1736.  Helen  Walker,  declining  every  proposal  of  saving  her 
relation's  life  at  the  expense  of  truth,  borrowed  a  sum  of  money 
sufficient  for  her  journey,  walked  the  whole  distance  to  London 
barefoot,  and  made  her  way  to  John  Duke  of  Argyle.  She 
was  heard  to  say  that,  by  the  Almighty's  strength,  she  had 
been  enabled  to  meet  the  Duke  at  the  most  critical  moment, 
which,  if  lost,  would  have  caused  the  inevitable  forfeiture  of 
her  sister's  life. 

Isabella,  or  Tibby  Walker,  saved  from  the  fate  which  im- 
pended over  her,  was  married  by  the  person  who  had  wronged 
her  (named  Waugh),  and  lived  happily  for  great  part  of  a 
century,  uniformly  acknowledging  the  extraordinary  affection 
to  which  she  owed  her  preservation. 

Helen  Walker  died  about  the  end  of  the  year  1791,  and  her 
remains  are  interred  in  the  churchyard  of  her  native  parish  of 
Irongray,  in  a  romantic  cemetery  on  the  banks  of  the  Cairn. 
That  a  character  so  distinguished  for  her  undaunted  love  of 
virtue  lived  and  died  in  poverty,  if  not  want,  serves  only  to 
show  us  how  insignificant,  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  are  our 
principal  objects  of  ambition  upon  earth. 


TO  THE  BEST  OF  PATRONS, 

A  PLEASED  AND  INDULGENT  READER, 
JEDEDIAH  CLEISHBOTHAM 

WISHES,  HEALTH,  AND  INCREASE,  AND  CONTENTMENT 

Courteous  Reader: 

If  ingratitude  comprehendeth  every  vice,  surely  so  foul  a 
stain  worst  of  all  beseemeth  him  whose  life  has  been  devoted 
to  instructing  youth  in  virtue  and  in  humane  letters.  There- 
fore have  I  chosen,  in  this  prolegomenon,  to  unload  my  burden 
of  thanks  at  thy  feet,  for  the  favour  with  which  thou  hast 
kindly  entertained  the  Tales  of  my  Landlord.  Certes,  if  thou 
hast  chuckled  over  their  facetious  and  festivous  descriptions, 
or  hast  thy  mind  filled  with  pleasure  at  the  strange  and  pleas- 
ant turns  of  fortune  which  they  record,  verily,  I  have  also 
simpered  when  I  beheld  a  second  story  with  attics,  that  has 
arisen  on  the  basis  of  my  small  domicile  at  Gandercleugh,  the 
walls  having  been  aforehand  pronounced  by  Deacon  Barrow 
to  be  capable  of  enduring  such  an  elevation.  Nor  has  it  been 
without  delectation  that  I  have  endued  a  new  coat  (snuff- 
brown,  and  with  metal  buttons),  having  all  nether  garments 
corresponding  thereto.  We  do  therefore  lie,  in  respect  of 
each  other,  under  a  reciprocation  of  benefits,  whereof  those 
received  by  me  being  the  most  solid,  in  respect  that  a  new 
house  and  a  new  coat  are  better  than  a  new  tale  and  an  old 
song,  it  is  meet  that  my  gratitude  should  be  expressed  with 
the  louder  voice  and  more  preponderating  vehemence.  And 
how  should  it  be  so  expressed?  Certainly  not  in  words  only, 
but  in  act  and  deed.  It  is  with  this  sole  purpose,  and  dis- 
claiming all  intention  of  purchasing  that  pendicle  or  poffle  of 


14 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


land  called  the  'Carlinescroft,  lying  adjacent  to  my  garden, 
and  measuring  seven  acres,  three  roods,  and  four  perches,  that 
I  have  committed  to  the  eyes  of  those  who  thought  well  of 
the  former  tomes,  these  four  additional  volumes  1  of  the  Tales 
of  my  Landlord,  Not  the  less,  if  Peter  Prayfort  be  minded 
to  sell  the  said  poffle,  it  is  at  his  own  choice  to  say  so;  and, 
peradventure,  he  may  meet  with  a  purchaser;  unless,  gentle 
Eeader,  the  pleasing  pourtraictures  of  Peter  Pattieson,  now 
given  unto  thee,  in  particular,  and  unto  the  public  in  general, 
shall  have  lost  their  favour  in  thine  eyes,  whereof  I  am  no 
way  distrustful.  And  so  much  confidence  do  I  repose  in  thy 
continued  favour,  that,  should  thy  lawful  occasions  call  thee 
to  the  town  of  Gandercleugh,  a  place  frequented  by  most  at 
one  time  or  other  in  their  lives,  I  will  enrich  thine  eyes  with 
a  sight  of  those  precious  manuscripts  whence  thou  hast  derived 
so  much  delectation,  thy  nose  with  a  snuff  from  my  mull,  and 
thy  palate  with  a  dram  from  my  bottle  of  strong  waters,  called 
by  the  learned  of  Gandercleugh  the  Dominie's  Dribble  o? 
Drink. 

It  is  there,  0  highly  esteemed  and  beloved  Eeader,  thou 
wilt  be  able  to  bear  testimony,  through  the  medium  of  thine 
own  senses,  against  the  children  of  vanity,  who  have  sought 
to  identify  thy  friend  and  servant  with  I  know  not  what  in- 
diter  of  vain  fables ;  who  hath  cumbered  the  world  with  his 
devices,  but  shrunken  from  the  responsibility  thereof.  Truly, 
this  hath  been  well  termed  a  generation  hard  of  faith;  since 
what  can  a  man  do  to  assert  his  property  in  a  printed  tome, 
saving  to  put  his  name  in  the  title-page  thereof,  with  his  de- 
scription, or  designation,  as  the  lawyers  term  it,  and  place  of 
abode?  Of  a  surety  I  would  have  such  sceptics  consider  how 
they  themselves  would  brook  to  have  their  works  ascribed  to 
others,  their  names  and  professions  imputed  as  forgeries,  and 
their  very  existence  brought  into  question;  even  although, 
peradventure,  it  may  be  it  is  of  little  consequence  to  any  but 
themselves,  not  only  whether  they  are  living  or  dead,  but 
even  whether  they  ever  lived  or  no.  Yet  have  my  malign- 
ers  carried  their  uncharitable  censures  still  farther.  These 

1  [The  Heart  of  Midlothian  was  originally  published  in  four  volumes.] 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  15 


cavillers  have  not  only  doubted  mine  identity,  although,  thus 
plainly  proved,  but  they  have  impeached  my  veracity,  and  the 
authenticity  of  my  historical  narratives!  Verily,  I  can  only 
say  in  answer,  that  I  have  been  cautelous  in  quoting  mine 
authorities.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  if  I  had  hearkened  with 
only  one  ear,  I  might  have  rehearsed  my  tale  with  more  ac- 
ceptation from  those  who  love  to  hear  but  half  the  truth.  It 
is,  it  may  hap,  not  altogether  to  the  discredit  of  our  kindly 
nation  of  Scotland,  that  we  are  apt  to  take  an  interest,  warm, 
yea  partial,  in  the  deeds  and  sentiments  of  our  forefathers. 
He  whom  his  adversaries  describe  as  a  perjured  Prelatist,  is 
desirous  that  his  predecessors  should  be  held  moderate  in  their 
power,  and  just  in  their  execution  of  its  privileges,  when, 
truly,  the  unimpassioned  peruser  of  the  annals  of  those  times 
shall  deem  them  sanguinary,  violent,  and  tyrannical. 

Again,  the  representatives  of  the  suffering  nonconformists 
desire  that  their  ancestors,  the  Cameronians,  shall  be  repre- 
sented not  simply  as  honest  enthusiasts,  oppressed  for  con- 
science sake,  but  persons  of  line  breeding,  and  valiant  heroes. 
Truly,  the  historian  cannot  gratify  these  predilections.  He 
must  needs  describe  the  Cavaliers  as  proud  and  high-spirit- 
ed, cruel  remorseless,  and  vindictive ;  the  suffering  party  as 
honourably  tenacious  of  their  opinions  under  persecution, 
their  own  tempers  being,  however,  sullen,  fierce,  and  rude, 
their  opinions  absurd  and  extravagant,  and  their  whole  course 
of  conduct  that  of  persons  whom  hellebore  would  better  have 
suited  than  prosecutions  unto  death  for  high  treason.  Nathe- 
less,  while  such  and  so  preposterous  were  the  opinions  on 
either  side,  there  were,  it  cannot  be  doubted,  men  of  virtue 
and  worth  on  both,  to  entitle  either  party  to  claim  merit  from 
its  martyrs.  It  has  been  demanded  of  me,  Jedediah  Cleish- 
botham,  by  what  right  I  am  entitled  to  constitute  myself  an 
impartial  judge  of  their  discrepancies  of  opinions,  seeing  (as 
it  is  stated)  that  I  must  necessarily  have  descended  from  one 
or  other  of  the  contending  parties,  and  be,  of  course,  wedded 
for  better  or  for  worse,  according  to  the  reasonable  practice 
of  Scotland,  to  its  dogmata,  or  opinions,  and  bound,  as  it 
were,  by  the  tie  matrimonial,  or,   to  speak  without  meta- 


16 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


phor,  ex  jure  sanguinis,  to  maintain  them  in  preference  to 
all  others. 

But,  nothing  denying  the  rationality  of  the  rule,  which  calls 
on  all  now  living  to  rule  their  political  and  religious  opinions 
by  those  of  their  great-grandfathers,  and  inevitable  as  seems 
the  one  or  the  other  horn  of  the  dilemma  betwixt  which  my 
adversaries  conceive  they  have  pinned  me  to  the  wall,  I  yet 
spy  some  means  of  refuge,  and  claim  a  privilege  to  write  and 
speak  of  both  parties  with  impartiality.  For,  0  ye  powers  of 
logic!  when  the  Prelatists  and  Presbyterians  of  old  times 
went  together  by  the  ears  in  this  unlucky  country,  my 
ancestor — venerated  be  his  memory ! — was  one  of  the  people 
called  Quakers, 1  and  suffered  severe  handling  from  either  side, 
even  to  the  extenuation  of  his  purse  and  the  incarceration  of 
his  person. 

Craving  thy  pardon,  gentle  Eeader,  for  these  few  words 
concerning  me  and  mine,  I  rest,  as  above  expressed,  thy  sure 
and  obligated  friend,  J.  C. 

Gandercleugh,  this  1st  of  April,  1818. 

1  See  Sir  Walter  Scott's  Relations  with  the  Quakers.   Note  2. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

BEING  INTRODUCTORY. 

So  down  thy  hill,  romantic  Ashbourn,  glides 
The  Derby  dilly,  carrying  six  insides. 

Frere. 

The  times  have  changed  in  nothing  more — we  follow  as  we 
were  wont  the  manuscript  of  Peter  Pattieson — than  in  the 
rapid  conveyance  of  intelligence  and  communication  betwixt 
ono  part  of  Scotland  and  another.  It  is  not  above  twenty  or 
thirty  years,  according  to  the  evidence  of  many  credible  wit- 
nesses now  alive,  since  a  little  miserable  horse-cart,  perform- 
ing with  difficulty  a  journey^  of  thirty  miles  per  diem,  carried 
our  mails  from  the  capital  of  Scotland  to  its  extremity.  Nor 
was  Scotland  much  more  deficient  in  these  accommodations 
than  our  richer  sister  had  been  about  eighty  years  before. 
Fielding,  in  his  Tom  Jones,  and  Parquhar,  in  a  little  farce 
called  the  Stage- Coach,  have  ridiculed  the  slowness  of  these 
vehicles  of  public  accommodation.  According  to  the  latter 
authority,  the  highest  bribe  could  only  induce  the  coachman 
to  promise  to  anticipate  by  half  an  hour  the  usual  time  of  his 
arrival  at  the  Bull  and  Mouth. 

But  in  both  countries  these  ancient,  slow,  and  sure  modes 
of  conveyance  are  now  alike  unknown:  mail-coach  races 
against  mail-coach,  and  high-flyer  against  high-flyer,  through 
the  most  remote  districts  of  Britain.  And  in  our  village 
alone,  three  post-coaches  and  four  coaches  with  men  armed, 
and  in  scarlet  cassocks,  thunder  through  the  streets  each 


18 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


day,  and  rival  in  brilliancy  and  noise  the  invention  of  the 

celebrated  tyrant : 

Demens,  qui  nimbos  et  non  imitabile  fulmen, 
JEve  et  cornipedum  pulsu,  simularat,  equorum. 

Now  and  then,  to  complete  the  resemblance,  and  to  correct 
the  presumption  of  the  venturous  charioteers,  it  does  happen 
that  the  career  of  these  dashing  rivals  of  Salmoneus  meets 
with  as  undesirable  and  violent  a  termination  as  that  of  their 
prototype.  It  is  on  such  occasions  that  the  "insides"  and 
"outsides,"  to  use  the  appropriate  vehicular  phrases,  have  rea- 
son to  rue  the  exchange  of  the  slow  and  safe  motion  of  the  an- 
cient fly-coaches,  which,  compared  with  the  chariots  of  Mr. 
Palmer,  so  ill  deserve  the  name.  The  ancient  vehicle  used  to 
settle  quietly  down,  like  a  ship  scuttled  and  left  to  sink  by  the 
gradual  influx  of  the  waters,  while  the  modern  is  smashed  to 
pieces  with  the  velocity  of  the  same  vessel  hurled  against 
breakers,  or  rather  with  the  fury  of  a  bomb  bursting  at  the  con- 
clusion of  its  career  through  the  air.  The  late  ingenious  Mr. 
Pennant,  whose  humour  it  was  to  set  his  face  in  stern  opposi- 
tion to  these  speedy  conveyances,  had  collected,  I  have  heard, 
a  formidable  list  of  such  casualties,  which,  joined  to  the  imposi- 
tion of  innkeepers,  whose  charges  the  passengers  had  no  time 
to  dispute,  the  sauciness  of  the  coachman,  and  the  uncon- 
trolled and  despotic  authority  of  the  tyrant  called  the  guard, 
held  forth  a  picture  of  horror,  to  which  murder,  theft,  fraud, 
and  peculation  lent  all  their  dark  colouring.  But  that  which 
gratifies  the  impatience  of  the  human  disposition  will  be  prac- 
tised in  the  teeth  of  danger,  and  in  defiance  of  admonition ; 
and,  in  despite  of  the  Cambrian  antiquary,  mail-coaches  not 
only  roll  their  thunders  round  the  base  of  Penmen-Maur  and 
Oader-Edris,  but 

Frighted  Skiddaw  hears  afar 
The  rattling  of  the  unscythed  car. 

And  perhaps  the  echoes  of  Ben  Nevis  may  soon  be  awakened 
by  the  bugle,  not  of  a  warlike  chieftain,  but  of  the  guard  of 
a  mail-coach. 

It  was  a  fine  summer  day,  and  our  little  school  had  obtained 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


a  half  holyday,  by  the  intercession  of  a  good-humoured  vis 
tor. 1  I  expected  by  the  coach  a  new  number  of  an  interesting 
periodical  publication,  and  walked  forward  on  the  highway  to 
meet  it,  with  the  impatience  which  Cowper  has  described  as 
actuating  the  resident  in  the  country  when  longing  for  intel- 
ligence from  the  mart  of  news : 

The  grand  debate, 
The  popular  harangue,  the  tart  reply, 
The  logic,  and  the  wisdom,  and  the  wit, 
And  the  loud  laugh, — I  long  to  know  them  all ; 
I  burn  to  set  the  imprison' d  wranglers  free, 
And  give  them  voice  and  utterance  again. 

It  was  with  such  feelings  that  I  eyed  the  approach  of  the 
new  coach,  lately  established  on  our  road,  and  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Somerset,  which,  to  say  truth,  possesses  some  in- 
terest for  me,  even  when  it  conveys  no  such  important  infor- 
mation. The  distant  tremulous  sound  of  its  wheels  was 
heard  just  as  I  gained  the  summit  of  the  gentle  ascent,  called 
the  Goslin  brae,  from  which  you  command  an  extensive  view 
down  the  valley  of  the  river  Gander.  The  public  road,  which 
comes  up  the  side  of  that  stream,  and  crosses  it  at  a  bridge 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  place  where  I  was  stand- 
ing, runs  partly  through  inclosures  and  plantations,  and  partly 
through  open  pasture  land.  It  is  a  childish  amusement 
perhaps — but  my  life  has  been  spent  with  children,  and  why 
should  not  my  pleasures  be  like  theirs? — childish  as  it  is,  then, 
I  must  own  I  have  had  great  pleasure  in  watching  the  ap- 
proach of  the  carriage,  where  the  openings  of  the  road  permit 
it  to  be  seen.  The  gay  glancing  of  the  equipage,  its  dimin- 
ished and  toy-like  appearance  at  a  distance,  contrasted  with 
the  rapidity  of  its  motion,  its  appearance  and  disappearance 
at  intervals,  and  the  progressively  increasing  sounds  that  an- 
nounce its  nearer  approach,  have  all  to  the  idle  and  listless 
spectator,  who  has  nothing  more  important  to  attend  to,  some- 
thing of  awakening  interest.  The  ridicule  may  attach  to  me, 
which  is  flun£  upon  many  an  honest  citizen,  who  watches  from 


i  window  of  his  villa  the  passage  of  the  stage-coach ;  but  it 
a  very  natural  source  of  amusement  notwithstanding,  and 
i,ny  of  those  who  join  in  the  laugh  are  perhaps  not  unused 
resort  to  it  in  secret. 

On  the  present  occasion,  however,  fate  had  decreed  that  I 
)uld  not  enjoy  the  consummation  of  the  amusement  by  see- 
£  the  coach  rattle  past  me  as  I  sat  on  the  turf,  and  hearing 
3  hoarse  grating  voice  of  the  guard  as  he  skimmed  forth  foi 
r  grasp  the  expected  packet,  without  the  carriage  checking 
course  for  an  instant.    I  had  seen  the  vehicle  thunder 
wn  the  hill  that  leads  to  the  bridge  with  more  than  its  usual 
petuosity,  glittering  all  the  while  by  flashes  from  a  cloudy 
jerriaele  of  the  dust  which  it  had  raised,  and  leaving  a  train 
hind  it  on  the  road  resembling  a  wreath  of  summer  mist, 
it  it  did  not  appear  on  the  top  of  the  nearer  bank  within 
e  usual  space  of  three  minutes,  which  frequent  observation 
,d  enabled  me  to  ascertain  was  the  medium  time  for  cross- 
g  the  bridge  and  mounting  the  ascent.    When  double  that 
ace  had  elapsed,  I  became  alarmed,  and  walked  hastily  for,r 
a,rd.    As  I  came  in  sight  of  the  bridge,  the  cause  of  delay 
as  too  manifest,  for  the  Somerset  had  made  a  summerset  ii 
>od  earnest,  and  overturned  so  completely,  that  it  was  liteir 
ly  resting  upon  the  ground,  with  the  roof  undermost,  and 
Le  four  wheels  in  the  air.    The  "  exertions  of  the  guard  and 
>achman,"  both  of  whom  were  gratefully  commemorated  in 
le  newspapers,  having  succeeded  in  disentangling  the  horses 
y  cutting  the  harness,  were  now  proceeding  to  extricate  the 
insides  "  by  a  sort  of  summary  and  Cesarean  process  of  de- 
very,  forcing  the  hinges  from  one  of  the  doors  which  they 
Duld  not  open  otherwise.    In  this  manner  were  two  discon- 
:>late  damsels  set  at  liberty  from  the  womb  of  the  leathern 
onveniency.     As  they  immediately  began  to  settle  their 
lothes,  which  were  a  little  deranged,  as  may  be  presumed,  I 
or: eluded  they  had  received  no  injury,  and  did  not  venture 
o  obtrude  my  services  at  their  toilette,  for  which,  I  under- 
lie, id,  I  have  since  been  reflected  upon  by  the  fair  sufferers. 
Fhe  "outsides,"  who  must  have  been  discharged  from  their 
blevated  situation  by  a  shock  resembling  the  springing  of  a 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


21 


mine,  escaped,  nevertheless,  with  the  usual  allowance  of 
scratches  and  bruises,  excepting  three,  who,  having  been 
pitched  into  the  river  Gander,  were  dimly  seen  contending 
with  the  tide,  like  the  relics  of  iEneas's  shipwreck: 

Rari  apparent  nantes  in  gurgite  vasto. 

I  applied  my  poor  exertions  where  they  seemed  to  be  most 
needed,  and  with  the  assistance  of  one  or  two  of  the  company 
who  had  escaped  unhurt,  easily  succeeded  in  fishing  out  two 
of  the  unfortunate  passengers,  who  were  stout  active  young 
fellows ;  and  but  for  the  preposterous  length  of  their  great- 
coats, and  the  equally  fashionable  latitude  and  longitude  of 
their  Wellington  trousers,  would  have  required  little  assist- 
ance from  any  one.  The  third  was  sickly  and  elderly,  and 
might  have  perished  but  for  the  efforts  used  to  preserve  him. 

When  the  two  greatcoated  gentlemen  had  extricated  them- 
selves from  the  river,  and  shaken  their  ears  like  huge  water- 
dogs,  a  violent  altercation  ensued  betwixt  them  and  the  coach- 
man and  guard,  concerning  the  cause  of  their  overthrow.  In 
the  course  of  the  squabble,  I  observed  that  both  my  new  ac- 
quaintances belonged  to  the  law,  and  that  their  professional 
sharpness  was  likely  to  prove  an  overmatch  for  the  surly  and 
official  tone  of  the  guardians  of  the  vehicle.  The  dispute  end- 
ed in  the  guard  assuring  the  passengers  that  they  should  have 
seats  in  a  heavy  coach  which  would  pass  that  spot  in  less  than 
half  an  hour,  providing  it  were  not  full.  Chance  seemed  to 
favour  this  arrangement,  for  when  the  expected  vehicle  ar- 
rived, there  were  only  two  places  occupied  in  a  carriage  which 
professed  to  carry  six.  The  two  ladies  who  had  been  disin- 
terred out  of  the  fallen  vehicle  were  readily  admitted,  but 
positive  objections  were  stated  by  those  previously  in  posses- 
sion to  the  admittance  of  the  two  lawyers,  whose  wetted  gar- 
ments being  much  of  the  nature  of  well-soaked  sponges,  there 
was  every  reason  to  believe  they  would  refund  a  considerable 
part  of  the  water  they  had  collected,  to  the  inconvenience  of 
their  fellow-passengers.  On  the  other  hand,  the  lawyers  re- 
jected a  seat  on  the  roof,  alleging  that  they  had  only  taken 
that  station  for  pleasure  for  one  stage,  but  were  entitled  in  all 


22 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


respects  to  free  egress  and  regress  from  the  interior,  to  which 
their  contract  positively  referred.  After  some  altercation,  in 
which  something  was  said  upon  the  edict  Naatce,  caupones, 
stabularii,  the  coach  went  off,  leaving  the  learned  gentle- 
men to  abide  by  their  action  of  damages. 

They  immediately  applied  to  me  to  guide  them  to  the  next 
village  and  the  best  inn ;  and  from  the  account  I  gave  them 
of  the  Wallace  Head,  declared  they  were  much  better  pleased 
to  stop  there  than  to  go  forward  upon  the  terms  of  that  impu- 
dent scoundrel  the  guard  of  the  Somerset.  All  that  they  now 
wanted  was  a  lad  to  carry  their  travelling  bags,  who  was  easily 
procured  from  an  adjoining  cottage;  and  they  prepared  to 
walk  forward,  when  they  found  there  was  another  passenger 
in  the  same  deserted  situation  with  themselves.  This  was  the 
elderly  and  sickly -looking  person  who  had  been  precipitated 
into  the  river  along  with  the  two  young  lawyers.  He,  it 
seems,  had  been  too  modest  to  push  his  own  plea  against  the 
coachman  when  he  saw  that  of  his  betters  rejected,  and  now 
remained  behind  with  a  look  of  timid  anxiety,  plainly  inti- 
mating that  he  was  deficient  in  those  means  of  recommenda- 
tion which  are  necessary  passports  to  the  hospitality  of  an  inn. 

I  ventured  to  call  the  attention  of  the  two  dashing  young 
blades,  for  such  they  seemed,  to  the  desolate  condition  of 
their  fellow-traveller.  They  took  the  hint  with  ready  good- 
nature. 

"  Oh,  true,  Mr.  Dunover, "  said  one  of  the  youngsters,  "  you 
must  not  remain  on  the  pave  here;  you  must  go  and  have 
some  dinner  with  us ;  Halkit  and  I  must  have  a  post-chaise 
to  go  on,  at  all  events,  and  we  will  set  you  down  wherever 
suits  you  best." 

The  poor  man,  for  such  his  dress,  as  well  as  his  diffidence, 
bespoke  him,  made  the  sort  of  acknowledging  bow  by  which 
says  a  Scotchman,  "  It's  too  much  honour  for  the  like  of  me  " ; 
and  followed  humbly  behind  his  gay  patrons,  all  three  be- 
sprinkling the  dusty  road  as  they  walked  along  with  the  mois- 
ture of  their  drenched  garments,  and  exhibiting  the  singular 
and  somewhat  ridiculous  appearance  of  three  persons  suffering 
from  the  opposite  extreme  of  humidity,  while  the  summer  sun 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


23 


was  at  its  height,  and  everything  else  around  them  had  the 
expression  of  heat  and  drought.  The  ridicule  did  not  escape 
the  young  gentlemen  themselves,  and  they  had  made  what 
might  be  received  as  one  or  two  tolerable  jests  on  the  subject 
before  they  had  advanced  far  on  their  peregrination. 

"We  cannot  complain,  like  Cowley/'  said  one  of  them? 
"that  Gideon's  fleece  remains  dry,  while  all  around  is  moist j 
this  is  the  reverse  of  the  miracle." 

"  We  ought  to  be  received  with  gratitude  in  this  good  town ; 
we  bring  a  supply  of  what  they  seem  to  need  most, "  said 
Halkit. 

"  And  distribute  it  with  unparalleled  generosity, "  replied 
his  companion;  "performing  the  part  of  three  water-carts 
for  the  benefit  of  their  dusty  roads." 

"  We  come  before  them,  too, "  said  Halkit,  "  in  full  profes- 
sional force — counsel  and  agent  " 

"  And  client, "  said  the  young  advocate,  looking  behind  him. 
And  then  added,  lowering  his  voice,  "  that  looks  as  if  he  had 
kept  such  dangerous  company  too  long." 

It  was,  indeed,  too  true,  that  the  humble  follower  of  the 
gay  young  men  had  the  threadbare  appearance  of  a  worn-out 
litigant,  and  I  could  not  but  smile  at  the  conceit,  though  anx- 
ious to  conceal  my  mirth  from  the  object  of  it. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  Wallace  Inn,  the  elder  of  the  Edin- 
burgh gentlemen,  and  whom  I  understood  to  be  a  barrister,  in- 
sisted that  I  should  remain  and  take  part  of  their  dinner ;  and 
their  inquiries  and  demands  speedily  put  my  Landlord  and 
his  whole  family  in  motion  to  produce  the  best  cheer  which 
the  larder  and  cellar  afforded,  and  proceed  to  cook  it  to  the 
best  advantage,  a  science  in  which  our  entertainers  seemed  to 
be  admirably  skilled.  In  other  respects  they  were  lively 
young  men,  in  the  heyday  of  youth  and  good  spirits,  playing 
the  part  which  is  common  to  the  higher  classes  of  the  law  at 
Edinburgh,  and  which  nearly  resembles  that  of  the  young 
Templars  in  the  days  of  Steele  and  Addison.  An  air  of  giddy 
gaiety  mingled  with  the  good  sense,  taste,  and  information 
which  their  conversation  exhibited ;  and  it  seemed  to  be  their 
object  to  unite  the  character  of  men  of  fashion  and  lovers  of 


24 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  polite  arts.  A  fine  gentleman,  bred  up  in  the  thorough 
idleness  and  inanity  of  pursuit,  which  I  understand  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  the  character  in  perfection,  might  in  all 
probability  have  traced  a  tinge  of  professional  pedantry  which 
marked  the  barrister  in  spite  of  his  efforts,  and  something  of 
active  bustle  in  his  companion,  and  would  certainly  have  de- 
tected more  than  a  fashionable  mixture  of  information  and 
animated  interest  in  the  language  of  both.  But  to  me,  who 
had  no  pretensions  to  be  so  critical,  my  companions  seemed 
to  form  a  very  happy  mixture  of  good-breeding  and  liberal 
information,  with  a  disposition  to  lively  rattle,  pun,  and  jest, 
amusing  to  a  grave  man,  because  it  is  what  he  himself  can 
least  easily  command. 

The  thin  pale-faced  man,  whom  their  good-nature  had 
brought  into  their  society,  looked  out  of  place,  as  well  as  out 
of  spirits,  sate  on  the  edge  of  his  seat,  and  kept  the  chair  at 
two  feet  distance  from  the  table,  thus  incommoding  himself 
considerably  in  conveying  the  victuals  to  his  mouth,  as  if  by 
way  of  penance  for  partaking  of  them  in  the  company  of  his 
superiors.  A  short  time  after  dinner,  declining  all  entreaty 
to  partake  of  the  wine,  which  circulated  freely  round,  he  in- 
formed himself  of  the  hour  when  the  chaise  had  been  ordered 
to  attend;  and  saying  he  would  be  in  readiness,  modestly 
withdrew  from  the  apartment. 

"  Jack, "  said  the  barrister  to  his  companion,  "  I  remember 
that  poor  fellow's  face;  yon  spoke  more  truly  than  you  were 
aware  of;  he  really  is  one  of  my  clients,  poor  man." 

"Poor  man!"  echoed  Halkit.  "I  suppose  you  mean  he  is 
your  one  and  only  client?" 

"That's  not  my  fault,  Jack,"  replied  the  other,  whose  name 
I  discovered  was  Hardie.  "  You  are  to  give  me  all  your  busi- 
ness, you  know ;  and  if  you  have  none,  the  learned  gentleman 
here  knows  nothing  can  come  of  nothing. " 

"  You  seem  to  have  brought  something  to  nothing  though, 
in  the  case  of  that  honest  man.  He  looks  as  if  he  were  just 
about  to  honour  with  his  residence  the  Heart  of  Midlo- 
thian." 

"You  are  mistaken:   he  is  just  delivered  from  it.  Our 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


25 


friend  here  looks  for  an  explanation.    Pray,  Mr.  Pattieson, 
have  you  been  in  Edinburgh?" 
I  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Then  you  must  have  passed,  occasionally  at  least,  though 
probably  not  so  faithfully  as  I  am  doomed  to  do,  through  a 
narrow  intricate  passage,  leading  out  of  the  northwest  corner 
of  the  Parliament  Square,  and  passing  by  a  high  and  antique 
building  with  turrets  and  iron  grates, 

Making  good  the  saying  odd, 

Near  the  church  and  far  from  God  " — 

Mr.  Halkit  broke  in  upon  his  learned  counsel,  to  contribute 
his  moiety  to  the  riddle-:  "  Having  at  the  door  the  sign  of  the 
Ked  Man  " 

"  And  being  on  the  whole,"  resumed  the  counsellor,  inter- 
rupting his  friend  in  his  turn,  "  a  sort  of  place  where  misfor- 
tune is  happily  confounded  with  guilt,  where  all  who  are  in 
wish  to  get  out  " 

"  And  where  none  wrho  have  the  good  luck  to  be  out  wish 
to  get  in,"  added  his  companion. 

"I  conceive  you,  gentlemen,"  replied  I:  "you  mean  the 
prison." 

.  "  The  prison,"  added  the  young  lawyer.  "  You  have  hit  it 
— the  very  reverend  tolbooth  itself ;  and  let  me  tell  you,  you 
are  obliged  to  us  for  describing  it  with  so  much  modesty  and 
brevity;  for  with  whatever  amplifications  we  might  have 
chosen  to  decorate  the  subject,  you  lay  entirely  at  our  mercy, 
since  the  Fathers  Conscript  of  our  city  have  decreed  that  the 
venerable  edifice  itself  shall  not  remain  in  existence  to  confirm 
or  to  confute  us." 

"  Then  the  tolbooth  of  Edinburgh  is  called  the  Heart  of 
Midlothian?"  said  I. 

"  So  termed  and  reputed,  I  assure  you." 

"I  think,"  said  I,  with  the  bashful  diffidence  with  which  a 
man  lets  slip  a  pun  in  presence  of  his  superiors,  "  the  met- 
ropolitan county  may,  in  that  case,  be  said  to  have  a  sad 
heart. " 

"Eight  as  my  glove,  Mr.  Pattieson,"  added  Mr.  Hardie; 
"and  a  close  heart,  and  a  hard  heart.    Keep  it  up,  Jack." 


26 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  And  a  wicked  heart,  and  a  poor  heart/'  answered  Halkit, 
doing  his  best. 

"  And  yet  it  may  be  called  in  some  sort  a  strong  heart,  and 
a  high  heart,"  rejoined  the  advocate.  "You  see  I  can  put 
you  both  out  of  heart. " 

"  I  have  played  all  my  hearts, "  said  the  younger  gentleman. 

"Then  we'll  have  another  lead,"  answered  his  companion. 
"And  as  to  the  old  and  condemned  tolbooth,  what  pity  the 
same  honour  cannot  be  done  to  it  as  has  been  done  to  many 
of  its  inmates.  Why  should  not  the  tolbooth  have  its  "  Last 
Speech,  Confession,  and  Dying  Words"?  The  old  stones 
would  be  just  as  conscious  of  the  honour  as  many  a  poor  devil 
who  has  dangled  like  a  tassel  at  the  west  end  of  it,  while  the 
hawkers  were  shouting  a  confession  the  culprit  had  never 
heard  of." 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  I,  "if  I  might  presume  to  give  my 
opinion,  it  would  be  a  tale  of  unvaried  sorrow  and  guilt. " 

"Not  entirely,  my  friend,"  said  Hardie;  "a  prison  is  a 
world  within  itself,  and  has  its  own  business,  griefs,  and  joys, 
peculiar  to  its  circle.  Its  inmates  are  sometimes  short-lived, 
but  so  are  soldiers  on  service ;  they  are  poor  relatively  to  the 
world  without,  but  there  are  degrees  of  wealth  and  poverty 
among  them,  and  so  some  are  relatively  rich  also.  They  can- 
not stir  abroad,  but  neither  can  the  garrison  of  a  besieged  fort, 
or  the  crew  of  a  ship  at  sea ;  and  they  are  not  under  a  dispen- 
sation quite  so  desperate  as  either,  for  they  may  have  as  much 
food  as  they  have  money  to  buy,  and  are  not  obliged  to  work 
whether  they  have  food  or  not." 

"  But  what  variety  of  incident, "  said  I,  not  without  a  secret 
view  to  my  present  task,  "could  possibly  be  derived  from 
such  a  work  as  you  are  pleased  to  talk  of?" 

"Infinite,"  replied  the  young  advocate.  "Whatever  of 
guilt,  crime,  imposture,  folly,  unheard-of  misfortunes,  and 
unlooked-for  change  of  fortune,  can  be  found  to  chequer  life, 
my  Last  Speech  of  the  Tolbooth  should  illustrate  with  exam- 
ples sufficient  to  gorge  even  the  public's  all-devouring  appe- 
tite for  the  wonderful  and  horrible.  The  inventor  of  fictitious 
narratives  has  to  rack  his  brains  for  means  to  diversify  his 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


27 


tale,  and  after  all  can  hardly  hit  upon  characters  or  incidents 
which  have  not  been  used  again  and  again,  until  they  are  fa- 
miliar to  the  eye  of  the  reader,  so  that  the  development,  en- 
levement, the  desperate  wound  of  which  the  hero  never  dies, 
the  burning  fever  from  which  the  heroine  is  sure  to  recover, 
become  a  mere  matter  of  course.  I  join  with  my  honest 
friend  Crabbe,  and  have  an  unlucky  propensity  to  hope  when 
hope  is  lost,  and  to  rely  upon  the  cork- jacket,  which  carries 
the  heroes  of  romance  safe  through  all  the  billows  of  afflic- 
tion." He  then  declaimed  the  following  passage,  rather  with 
too  much  than  too  little  emphasis : 

Much  have  I  fear'd,  but  am  no  more  afraid, 

When  some  chaste  beauty,  by  some  wretch  betray'd, 

Is  drawn  away  with  such  distracted  speed, 

That  she  anticipates  a  dreadful  deed. 

Not  so  do  I.    Let  solid  walls  impound 

The  captive  fair,  and  dig  a  moat  around  ; 

Let  there  be  brazen  locks  and  bars  of  steel, 

And  keepers  cruel,  such  as  never  feel ; 

With  not  a  single  note  the  purse  supply, 

And  when  she  begs,  let  men  and  maids  deny  ; 

Be  windows  those  from  which  she  dares  not  fall, 

And  help  so  distant,  'tis  in  vain  to  call ; 

Still  means  of  freedom  will  some  Power  devise, 

And  from  the  baffled  ruffian  snatch  his  prize. 

"  The  end  of  uncertainty, "  he  concluded,  "  is  the  death  of 
interest;  and  hence  it  happens  that  no  one  now  reads  novels." 

"Hear  him,  ye  gods!"  returned  his  companion.  "I  assure 
you,  Mr.  Pattieson,  you  will  hardly  visit  this  learned  gentle- 
man, but  you  are  likely  to  find  the  new  novel  most  in  repute 
lying  on  his  table — snugly  intrenched,  however,  beneath 
Stair's  Institutes,  or  an  open  volume  of  Morison's  Decisions  " 

"Do  I  deny  it?"  said  the  hopeful  jurisconsult,  "or  where- 
fore should  I,  since  it  is  well  known  these  Dalilahs  seduced 
my  wisers  and  my  betters?  May  they  not  be  found  lurking 
amidst  the  multiplied  memorials  of  our  most  distinguished 
counsel,  and  even  peeping  from  under  the  cushion  of  a  judge's 
arm-chair?  Our  seniors  at  the  bar,  within  the  bar,  and  even 
on  the  bench,  read  novels ;  and,  if  not  belied,  some  of  them 
have  written  novels  into  the  bargain.  I  only  say,  that  I  read 
from  habit  and  from  indolence,  not  from  real  interest ;  that, 


28 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


like  Ancient  Pistol  devouring  his  leek,  I  read  and  swear  till 
I  get  to  the  end  of  the  narrative.  But  not  so  in  the  real  rec- 
ords of  human  vagaries,  not  so  in  the  State  Trials,  or  in  the 
Books  of  Adjournal,  where  every  now  and  then  you  read  new 
pages  of  the  human  heart,  and  turns  of  fortune  far  beyond 
what  the  boldest  novelist  ever  attempted  to  produce  from  the 
coinage  of  his  brain." 

"  And  for  such  narratives, "  I  asked,  "  you  suppose  the  his- 
tory of  the  prison  of  Edinburgh  might  afford  appropriate  ma- 
terials?" 

"In  a  degree  unusually  ample,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Hardie. 
"Pill  your  glass,  however,  in  the  mean  while.  Was  it  not 
for  many  years  the  place  in  which  the  Scottish  Parliament 
met?  Was  it  not  James's  place  of  refuge,  when  the  mob,  in- 
flamed by  a  seditious  preacher,  broke  forth  on  him  with  the 
cries  of  '  The  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of  Gideon ;  bring  forth 
the  wicked  Haman'  ?  Since  that  time  how  many  hearts  have 
throbbed  within  these  walls,  as  the  tolling  of  the  neighbour- 
ing bell  announced  to  them  how  fast  the  sands  of  their  life 
were  ebbing ;  how  many  must  have  sunk  at  the  sonnd ;  how 
many  were  supported  by  stubborn  pride  and  dogged  resolu- 
tion; how  many  by  the  consolations  of  religion?  Have  there 
not  been  some,  who,  looking  back  on  the  motives  of  their 
crimes,  were  scarce  able  to  understand  how  they  should  have 
had  such  temptation  as  to  seduce  them  from  virtue?  and  have 
there  not,  perhaps,  been  others,  who,  sensible  of  their  inno- 
cence, were  divided  between  indignation  at  the  undeserved 
doom  which  they  were  to  undergo,  consciousness  that  they 
had  not  deserved  it,  and  racking  anxiety  to  discover  some 
way  in  which  they  might  yet  vindicate  themselves?  Do  you 
suppose  any  of  these  deep,  powerful,  and  agitating  feelings 
can  be  recorded  and  perused  without  exciting  a  corresponding 
depth  of  deep,  powerful,  and  agitating  interest?  Oh!  do 
but  wait  till  I  publish  the  causes  celebres  of  Caledonia,  and  you 
will  find  no  want  of  a  novel  or  a  tragedy  for  some  time  to 
come.  The  true  thing  will  triumph  over  the  brightest  inven- 
tions of  the  most  ardent  imagination.  Magna  est  Veritas,  et 
praivalebit. " 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


29 


"  I  have  understood, "  said  I,  encouraged  by  the  affability 
of  my  rattling  entertainer,  "  that  less  of  this  interest  must 
attach  to  Scottish  jurisprudence  than  to  that  of  any  other 
country.  The  general  morality  of  our  people,  their  sober  and 
prudent  habits  " 

"Secure  them,"  said  the  barrister,  "against  any  great  in- 
crease of  professional  thieves  and  depredators,  but  not  against 
wild  and  wayward  starts  of  fancy  and  passion,  producing 
crimes  of  an  extraordinary  description,  which  are  precisely 
those  to  the  detail  of  which  we  listen  with  thrilling  interest. 
England  has  been  much  longer  a  highly  civilised  country ;  her 
subjects  have  been  very  strictly  amenable  to  laws  adminis- 
tered without  fear  or  favour ;  a  complete  division  of  labour 
has  taken  place  among  her  subjects;  and  the  very  thieves  and 
robbers  form  a  distinct  class  in  society,  subdivided  among 
themselves  according  to  the  subject  of  their  depredations,  and 
the  mode  in  which  they  carry  them  on,  acting  upon  regular 
habits  and  principles,  which  can  be  calculated  and  antici- 
pated at  Bow  Street,  Hatton  Garden,  or  the  Old  Bailey.  Our 
sister  kingdom  is  like  a  cultivated  field:  the  farmer  expects 
that,  in  spite  of  all  his  care,  a  certain  number  of  weeds  will 
rise  with  the  corn,  and  can  tell  you  beforehand  their  names 
and  appearance.  But  Scotland  is  like  one  of  her  own  High- 
land glens,  and  the  moralist  who  reads  the  records  of  her 
criminal  jurisprudence  will  find  as  many  curious  anomalous 
facts  in  the  history  of  mind  as  the  botanist  will  detect  rare 
specimens  among  her  dingles  and  cliffs." 

"And  that's  all  the  good  you  have  obtained  from  three 
perusals  of  the  Commentaries  on  Scottish  Criminal  Jurispru- 
dence ?"  said  his  companion.  "  I  suppose  the  learned  author 
very  little  thinks  that  the  facts  which  his  erudition  and  acute- 
ness  have  accumulated  for  the  illustration  of  legal  doctrines 
might  be  so  arranged  as  to  form  a  sort  of  appendix  to  the  half- 
bound  and  slip-shod  volumes  of  the  circulating  library." 

"I'll  bet  you  a  pint  of  claret,"  said  the  elder  lawyer,  "tha.t 
he  will  not  feel  sore  at  the  comparison.  But  as  we  say  at  the 
bar,  '  I  beg  I  may  not  be  interrupted' ;  I  have  much  more  to 
say  upon  my  Scottish  collection  of  causes  celebres.    You  will 


30 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


please  recollect  the  scope  and  motive  given  for  the  contrivance 
and  execution  of  many  extraordinary  and  daring  crimes,  by 
the  long  civil  dissensions  of  Scotland;  by  the  hereditary  jur- 
isdictions, which,  until  1748,  rested  the  investigation  of  crimes 
in  judges,  ignorant,  partial,  or  interested;  by  the  habits  of 
the  gentry,  shut  up  in  their  distant  and  solitary  mansion- 
houses,  nursing  their  revengeful  passions  just  to  keep  their 
blood  from  stagnating;  not  to  mention  that  amiable  national 
qualification,  called  the  perfervidum  incjenium  Scotomtm,  which 
our  lawyers  join  in  alleging  as  a  reason  for  the  severity  of 
some  of  our  enactments.  When  I  come  to  treat  of  matters  so 
mysterious,  deep,  and  dangerous  as  these  circumstances  have 
given  rise  to,  the  blood  of  each  reader  shall  be  curdled,  and 
his  epidermis  crisped  into  goose-skin.  But,  hist!  here  comes 
the  landlord,  with  tidings,  I  suppose,  that  the  chaise  is 
ready." 

It  was  no  such  thing :  the  tidings  bore,  that  no  chaise  could 
be  had  that  evening,  for  Sir  Peter  Plyem  had  carried  forward 
my  Landlord's  two  pairs  of  horses  that  morning  to  the  ancient 
royal  borough  of  Bubbleburgh,  to  look  after  his  interest  there. 
But  as  Bubbleburgh  is  only  one  of  a  set  of  five  boroughs  which 
club  their  shares  for  a  member  of  Parliament,  Sir  Peter's  ad- 
versary had  judiciously  watched  his  departure,  in  order  to 
commence  a  canvass  in  the  no  less  royal  borough  of  Bitem, 
which,  as  all  the  world  knows,  lies  at  the  very  termination  of 
Sir  Peter's  avenue,  and  has  been  held  in  leading-strings  by 
him  and  his  ancestors  for  time  immemorial.  Now  Sir  Peter 
was  thus  placed  in  the  situation  of  an  ambitious  monarch, 
who,  after  having  commenced  a  daring  inroad  into  his  ene- 
mies' territories,  is  suddenly  recalled  by  an  invasion  of  his 
own  hereditary  dominions.  He  was  obliged  in  consequence 
to  return  from  the  half -won  borough  of  Bubbleburgh,  to  look 
after  the  half-lost  borough  of  Bitem,  and  the  two  pairs  of 
horses  which  carried  him  that  morning  to  Bubbleburgh  were 
now  forcibly  detained  to  transport  him,  his  agent,  his  valet, 
his  jester,  and  his  hard-drinker  across  the  country  to  Bitem. 
The  cause  of  this  detention,  which  to  me  was  of  as  little 
consequence  as  it  may  be  to  the  reader,  was  important  enough 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


31 


to  my  companions  to  reconcile  them  to  the  delay.  Like 
eagles,  they  smelled  the  battle  afar  off,  ordered  a  magnum  of 
claret  and  beds  at  the  Wallace,  and  entered  at  full  career  into 
the  Bubbleburgh  and  Bitem  politics,  with  all  the  probable 
"petitions  and  complaints"  to  which  they  were  likely  to  give 
rise. 

In  the  midst  of  an  anxious,  animated,  and,  to  me,  most  un- 
intelligible discussion,  concerning  provosts,  bailies,  deacons, 
sets  of  boroughs,  leets,  town-clerks,  burgesses  resident  and 
non-resident,  all  of  a  sudden  the  lawyer  recollected  himself. 
"  Poor  Dunover,  we  must  not  forget  him" ;  and  the  landlord 
was  despatched  in  quest  of  the  pauvre  honteux,  with  an  ear- 
nestly civil  invitation  to  him  for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  I 
could  not  help  asking  the  young  gentlemen  if  they  knew  the 
history  of  this  poor  man ;  and  the  counsellor  applied  himself 
to  his  pocket  to  recover  the  memorial  or  brief  from  which  he 
had  stated  his  cause. 

"He  has  been  a  candidate  for  our  remedium  miserabile," 
said  Mr.  Hardie,  "commonly  called  a  cessio  bonorum.  As 
there  are  divines  who  have  doubted  the  eternity  of  future 
punishments,  so  the  Scotch  lawyers  seem  to  have  thought  that 
the  crime  of  poverty  might  be  atoned  for  by  something  short 
of  perpetual  imprisonment.  After  a  month's  confinement, 
you  must  know,  a  prisoner  for  debt  is  entitled,  on  a  sufficient 
statement  to  our  Supreme  Court,  setting  forth  the  amount  of 
his  funds,  and  the  nature  of  his  misfortunes,  and  surrender- 
ing all  his  effects  to  his  creditors,  to  claim  to  be  discharged 
from  prison." 

"  I  had  heard, "  I  replied,  "  of  such  a  humane  regulation. 99 
"  Yes, 99  said  Halkit,  "  and  the  beauty  of  it  is,  as  the  foreign 
fellow  said,  you  may  get  the  cessio  when  the  bonorums  are  all 
spent.  But  what,  are  you  puzzling  in  your  pockets  to  seek  your 
only  memorial  among  old  play-bills,  letters  requesting  a  meet- 
ing of  the  faculty,  rules  of  the  Speculative  Society,1  syllabus 
of  lectures, — all  the  miscellaneous  contents  of  a  young  ad- 
vocate's pocket,  which  contains  everything  but  briefs  and 
banknotes?  Can  you  not  state  a  case  of  cessio  without  your 
1  A  well-known  debating  club  in  Edinburgh  (Laing). 


32 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


memorial?  Why,  it  is  done  every  Saturday.  The  events  fol- 
low each  other  as  regularly  as  clockwork,  and  one  form  of 
condescendence  might  suit  every  one  of  them." 

"  This  is  very  unlike  the  variety  of  distress  which  this  gen- 
tleman stated  to  fall  under  the  consideration  of  your  judges/' 
said  I. 

"True,"  replied  Halkit;  "  but  Hardie  spoke  of  criminal 
jurisprudence,  and  this  business  is  purely  civil.  I  could 
plead  a  cessio  myself  without  the  inspiring  honours  of  a  gown 
and  three-tailed  periwig.  Listen.  My  client  was  bred  a 
journeyman  weaver — made  some  little  money — took  a  farm — 
(for  conducting  a  farm,  like  giving  a  gig,  comes  by  nature) — 
late  severe  times — induced  to  sign  bills  with  a  friend,  for 
which  he  received  no  value — landlord  sequestrates — creditors 
accept  a  composition — pursuer  sets  up  a  public-house — fails  a 
second  time — is  incarcerated  for  a  debt  of  ten  pounds,  seven 
shillings,  and  sixpence — his  debts  amount  to  blank — his  losses 
to  blank — his  funds  to  blank — leaving  a  balance  of  blank  in 
his  favour.  There  is  no  opposition ;  your  lordships  will  please 
grant  commission  to  take  his  oath." 

Hardie  now  renounced  his  ineffectual  search,  in  which  there 
was  perhaps  a  little  affectation,  and  told  us  the  tale  of  poor 
Dunover's  distresses,  with  a  tone  in  which  a  degree  of  feeling, 
which  he  seemed  ashamed  of  as  unprofessional,  mingled  with 
his  attempts  at  wit,  and  did  him  more  honour.  It  was  one 
of  those  tales  which  seem  to  argue  a  sort  of  ill-luck  or  fatal- 
ity attached  to  the  hero.  A  well-informed,  industrious,  and 
blameless,  but  poor  and  bashful,  man  had  in  vain  essayed  all 
the  usual  means  by  which  others  acquire  independence,  yet 
had  never  succeeded  beyond  the  attainment  of  bare  subsist- 
ence. During  a  brief  gleam  of  hope,  rather  than  of  actual 
prosperity,  he  had  added  a  wife  and  family  to  his  cares,  but 
the  dawn  was  speedily  overcast.  Everything  retrograded  with 
him  towards  the  verge  of  the  miry  Slough  of  Despond,  which 
yawns  for  insolvent  debtors ;  and  after  catching  at  each  twig, 
and  experiencing  the  protracted  agony  of  feeling  them  one  by 
one  elude  his  grasp,  he  actually  sunk  into  the  miry  pit  whence 
ne  had  been  extricated  by  the  professional  exertions  of  Hardie. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


33 


"And,  I  suppose,  now  you  have  dragged  this  poor  devil 
ashore,  you  will  leave  him  half  naked  on  the  beach  to  provide 
for  himself?"  said  Halkit.  "Hark  ye,"  and  he  whispered 
something  in  his  ear,  of  which  the  penetrating  and  insinuat- 
ing words,  "  Interest  with  my  lord, "  alone  reached  mine. 

"It  is pessimi  exempli,"  said  Hardie,  laughing,  "to  provide 
for  a  ruined  client ;  but  I  was  thinking  of  what  you  mention, 
provided  it  can  be  managed.    But  hush!  here  he  comes." 

The  recent  relation  of  the  poor  man's  misfortunes  had  given 
him,  I  was  pleased  to  observe,  a  claim  to  the  attention  and 
respect  of  the  young  men,  who  treated  him  with  great  civil- 
ity, and  gradually  engaged  him  in  a  conversation,  which, 
much  to  my  satisfaction,  again  turned  upon  the  causes  celebres 
of  Scotland.  Emboldened  by  the  kindness  with  which  he  was 
treated,  Mr.  Dunover  began  to  contribute  his  share  to  the 
amusement  of  the  evening.  Jails,  like  other  places,  have  their 
ancient  traditions,  known  only  to  the  inhabitants,  and  handed 
down  from  one  set  of  the  melancholy  lodgers  to  the  next  who 
occupy  their  cells.  Some  of  these,  which  Dunover  mentioned, 
were  interesting,  and  served  to  illustrate  the  narratives  of  re- 
markable trials  which  Hardie  had  at  his  finger-ends,  and  which 
his  companion  was  also  well  skilled  in.  This  sort  of  conver- 
sation passed  away  the  evening  till  the  early  hour  when  Mr. 
Dunover  chose  to  retire  to  rest,  and  I  also  retreated  to  take  down 
memorandums  of  what  I  had  learned,  in  order  to  add  another 
narrative  to  those  which  it  had  been  my  chief  amusement  to 
collect,  and  to  write  out  in  detail.  The  two  young  men  ordered 
a  broiled  bone,  Madeira  negus,  and  a  pack  of  cards,  and  com- 
menced a  game  at  picquet. 

Next  morning  the  travellers  left  Gandercleugh.  I  after- 
wards learned  from  the  papers  that  both  had  been  since  en- 
gaged in  the  great  political  cause  of  Bubbleburgh  and  Bitem, 
a  summary  case,  and  entitled  to  particular  despatch;  but 
which,  it  is  thought,  nevertheless,  may  outlast  the  duration 
of  the  parliament  to  which  the  contest  refers.  Mr.  Halkit, 
as  the  newspapers  informed  me,  acts  as  agent  or  solicitor ;  and 
Mr.  Hardie  opened  for  Sir  Peter  Plyem  with  singular  ability, 
and  to  such  good  purpose,  that  I  understand  he  had  since  had 
3 


34 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


fewer  play-bills  and  more  briefs  in  his  pocket.  And  both 
the  young  gentlemen  deserve  their  good  fortune ;  for  I  learned 
from  Dun  over,  who  called  on  me  some  weeks  afterwards,  and 
communicated  the  intelligence  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that 
their  interest  had  availed  to  obtain  him  a  small  office  for  the 
decent  maintenance  of  his  family ;  and  that,  after  a  train  of 
constant  and  uninterrupted  misfortune,  he  could  trace  a  dawn 
of  prosperity  to  his  having  the  good  fortune  to  be  flung  from 
the  top  of  a  mail-coach  into  the  river  Gander,  in  company 
with  an  advocate  and  a  writer  to  the  signet.  The  reader  will 
not  perhaps  deem  himself  equally  obliged  to  the  accident, 
since  it  brings  upon  him  the  following  narrative,  founded  upon 
the  conversation  of  the  evening. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Whoe'er' s  been  at  Paris  must  needs  know  the  Greye, 
The  fatal  retreat  of  the  unfortunate  brave, 
Where  honour  and  justice  most  oddly  contribute, 
To  ease  heroes'  pains  by  an  halter  and  gibbet. 

There  death  breaks  the  shackles  which  force  had  put  on, 

And  the  hangman  completes  what  the  judge  but  began  ; 

There  the  squire  of  the  pad,  and  knight  of  the  post, 

Find  their  pains  no  more  baulk'd,  and  their  hopes  no  more  cross'd. 

Prior. 

In  former  times,  England  had  her  Tyburn,  to  which  the 
devoted  victims  of  justice  were  conducted  in  solemn  procession 
up  what  is  now  called  Oxford  Eoad.  In  Edinburgh,  a  large 
open  street,  or  rather  oblong  square,  surrounded  by  high 
houses,  called  the  Grassmarket,  was  used  for  the  same  melan- 
choly purpose.  It  was  not  ill  chosen  for  such  a  scene,  being 
of  considerable  extent,  and  therefore  fit  to  accommodate  a 
great  number  of  spectators,  such  as  are  usually  assembled  by 
this  melancholy  spectacle.  On  the  other  hand,  few  of  the 
houses  which  surround  it  were,  even  in  early  times,  inhabited 
by  persons  of  fashion;  so  that  those  likely  to  be  offended  or 
over  deeply  affected  by  such  unpleasant  exhibitions  were  not 
in  the  way  of  having  their  quiet  disturbed  by  them.  The 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


35 


houses  in  the  Grassmarket  are,  generally  speaking,  of  a  mean 
description;  yet  the  place  is  not  without  some  features  of 
grandeur,  being  overhung  by  the  southern  side  of  the  huge 
rock  on  which  the  castle  stands,  and  by  the  moss-grown 
battlements  and  turreted  walls  of  that  ancient  fortress. 

It  was  the  custom,  until  within  these  thirty  years  or  there- 
abouts, to  use  this  esplanade  for  the  scene  of  public  executions. 
The  fatal  day  was  announced  to  the  public  by  the  appearance 
of  a  huge  black  gallows-tree  towards  the  eastern  end  of  the 
Grassmarket.  This  ill-omened  apparition  was  of  great  height, 
with  a  scaffold  surrounding  it,  and  a  double  ladder  placed 
against  it,  for  the  ascent  of  the  unhappy  criminal  and  the 
executioner.  As  this  apparatus  was  always  arranged  before 
dawn,  it  seemed  as  if  the  gallows  had  grown  out  of  the  earth 
in  the  course  of  one  night,  like  the  production  of  some  foul 
demon;  and  I  well  remember  the  fright  with  which  the 
schoolboys,  when  I  was  one  of  their  number,  used  to  regard 
these  ominous  signs  of  deadly  preparation.  On  the  night  af- 
ter the  execution  the  gallows  again  disappeared,  and  was 
conve}^ed  in  silence  and  darkness  to  the  place  where  it  was 
usually  deposited,  which  was  one  of  the  vaults  under  the  Par- 
liament House,  or  courts  of  justice.  This  mode  of  execution 
is  now  exchanged  for  one  similar  to  that  in  front  of  Newgate, 
with  what  beneficial  effect  is  uncertain.  The  mental  suffer- 
ings of  the  convict  are  indeed  shortened.  He  no  longer  stalks 
between  the  attendant  clergymen,  dressed  in  his  grave-clothes, 
through  a  considerable  part  of  the  city,  looking  like  a  moving 
and  walking  corpse,  while  yet  an  inhabitant  of  this  world; 
but,  as  the  ultimate  purpose  of  punishment  has  in  view  the 
prevention  of  crimes,  it  may  at  least,  be  doubted  whether,  in 
abridging  the  melancholy  ceremony,  we  have  not  in  part  di- 
minished that  appalling  effect  upon  the  spectators  which  is 
the  useful  end  of  all  such  inflictions,  and  in  consideration  of 
which  alone,  unless  in  very  particular  cases,  capital  sentences 
can  be  altogether  justified. 

On  the  7th  day  of  September  1736  these  ominous  prepara- 
tions for  execution  were  descried  in  the  place  we  have  de- 
scribed, and  at  an  early  hour  the  space  around  began  to  be 


36 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


occupied  by  several  groups,  who  gazed  on  the  scaffold  and 
gibbet  with  a  stern  and  vindictive  show  of  satisfaction  very 
seldom  testified  by  the  populace,  whose  good-nature  in  most 
cases  forgets  the  crime  of  the  condemned  person,  and  dwells 
only  on  his  misery.  But  the  act  of  which  the  expected  cul- 
prit had  been  convicted  was  of  a  description  calculated  nearly 
and  closely  to  awaken  and  irritate  the  resentful  feelings  of  the 
multitude.  The  tale  is  well  known ;  yet  it  is  necessary  to  re- 
capitulate its  leading  circumstances,  for  the  better  understand- 
ing what  is  to  follow ;  and  the  narrative  may  prove  long,  but 
I  trust  not  uninteresting,  even  to  those  who  have  heard  its 
general  issue.  At  any  rate,  some  detail  is  necessary,  in  order 
to  render  intelligible  the  subsequent  events  of  our  narrative. 

Contraband  trade,  though  it  strikes  at  the  root  of  legitimate 
government,  by  encroaching  on  its  revenues,  though  it  injures 
the  fair  trader,  and  debauches  the  minds  of  those  engaged  in 
it,  is  not  usually  looked  upon,  either  by  the  vulgar  or  by  their 
betters,  in  a  very  heinous  point  of  view.  On  the  contrary,  in 
those  counties  where  it  prevails,  the  cleverest,  boldest,  and 
most  intelligent  of  the  peasantry  are  uniformly  engaged  in 
illicit  transactions,  and  very  often  with  the  sanction  of  the 
farmers  and  inferior  gentry.  Smuggling  was  almost  universal 
in  Scotland  in  the  reigns  of  George  I.  and  II. ;  for  the  people, 
unaccustomed  to  imposts,  and  regarding  them  as  an  unjust  ag- 
gression upon  their  ancient  liberties,  made  no  scruple  to  elude 
them  whenever  it  was  possible  to  do  so. 

The  county  of  Fife,  bounded  by  two  firths  on  the  south  and 
north,  and  by  the  sea  on  the  east,  and  having  a  number  of 
small  seaports,  was  long  famed  for  maintaining  successfully  a 
contraband  trade ;  and  as  there  were  many  seafaring  men  re- 
siding there,  who  had  been  pirates  and  buccaneers  in  their 
youth,  there  were  not  wanting  a  sufficient  number  of  daring 
men  to  carry  it  on.  Among  these,  a  fellow  called  Andrew 
Wilson,  originally  a  baker  in  the  village  of  Pathhead,  was  par- 
ticularly obnoxious  to  the  revenue  officers.  He  was  possessed 
of  great  personal  strength,  courage,  and  cunning,  was  perfect- 
ly acquainted  with  the  coast,  and  capable  of  conducting  the 
most  desperate  enterprises.    On  several  occasions  he  succeeded 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


37 


in  baffling  the  pursuit  and  researches  of  the  king's  officers ;  but 
he  became  so  much  the  object  of  their  suspicions  and  watchful 
attention  that  at  length  he  was  totally  ruined  by  repeated 
seizures.  The  man  became  desperate.  He  considered  him- 
self as  robbed  and  plundered,  and  took  it  into  his  head  that 
he  had  a  right  to  make  reprisals,  as  he  could  find  opportunity. 
Where  the  heart  is  prepared  for  evil,  opportunity  is  seldom 
long  wanting.  This  Wilson  learned  that  the  collector  of  the 
customs  at  Kirkcaldy  had  come  to  Pittenweem,  in  the  course 
of  his  official  round  of  duty,  with  a  considerable  sum  of  public 
money  in  his  custody.  As  the  amount  was  greatly  within  the 
value  of  the  goods  which  had  been  seized  from  him,  Wilson 
felt  no  scruple  of  conscience  in  resolving  to  reimburse  himself 
for  his  losses  at  the  expense  of  the  collector  and  the  revenue. 
He  associated  with  himself  one  Eobertson  and  two  other  idle 
young  men,  whom,  having  been  concerned  in  the  same  illicit 
trade,  he  persuaded  to  view  the  transaction  in  the  same  justi- 
fiable light  in  which  he  himself  considered  it.  They  watched 
the  motions  of  the  collector ;  they  broke  forcibly  into  the  house 
where  he  lodged,  Wilson,  with  two  of  his  associates,  entering 
the  collector's  apartment,  while  Eobertson,  the  fourth,  kept 
watch  at  the  door  with  a  drawn  cutlass  in  his  hand.  The 
officer  of  the  customs,  conceiving  his  life  in  danger,  escaped 
out  of  his  bedroom  window,  and  fled  in  his  shirt,  so  that  the 
plunderers,  with  much  ease,  possessed  themselves  of  about  two 
hundred  pounds  of  public  money.  This  robbery  was  com- 
mitted in  a  very  audacious  manner,  for  several  persons  were 
passing  in  the  street  at  the  time.  But  Eobertson  representing 
the  noise  they  heard  as  a  dispute  or  fray  betwixt  the  collector 
and  the  people  of  the  house,  the  worthy  citizens  of  Pitten- 
weem felt  themselves  no  way  called  on  to  interfere  in  behalf 
of  the  obnoxious  revenue  officer;  so,  satisfying  themselves 
with  this  very  superficial  account  of  the  matter,  like  the 
Levite  in  the  parable,  they  passed  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
way.  An  alarm  was  at  length  given,  military  were  called  in, 
the  depredators  were  pursued,  the  booty  recovered,  and  Wil- 
son and  Eobertson  tried  and  condemned  to  death,  chiefly  on 
the  evidence  of  an  accomplice. 


38 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Many  thought  that,  in  consideration  of  the  men's  erroneous 
opinion  of  the  nature  of  the  action  they  had  committed,  justice 
might  have  been  satisfied  with  a  less  forfeiture  than  that  of 
two  lives.  On  the  other  hand,  from  the  audacity  of  the  fact, 
a  severe  example  was  judged  necessary;  and  such  was  the 
opinion  of  the  government.  When  it  became  apparent  that 
the  sentence  of  death  was  to  be  executed,  files,  and  other  im- 
plements necessary  for  their  escape,  were  transmitted  secretly 
to  the  culprits  by  a  friend  from  without.  By  these  means 
they  sawed  a  bar  out  of  one  of  the  prison  windows,  and  might 
have  made  their  escape,  but  for  the  obstinacy  of  Wilson,  who, 
as  he  was  daringly  resolute,  was  doggedly  pertinacious  of  his 
opinion.  His  comrade,  Robertson,  a  young  and  slender  man, 
proposed  to  make  the  experiment  of  passing  the  foremost 
through  the  gap  they  had  made,  and  enlarging  it  from  the 
outside,  if  necessary,  to  allow  Wilson  free  passage.  Wilson, 
however,  insisted  on  making  the  first  experiment,  and  being 
a  robust  and  lusty  man,  he  not  only  found  it  impossible  to  get 
through  betwixt  the  bars,  but,  by  his  struggles,  he  jammed 
himself  so  fast  that  he  was  unable  to  draw  his  body  back 
again.  In  these  circumstances  discovery  became  unavoidable ; 
and  sufficient  precautions  were  taken  by  the  jailor  to  prevent 
any  repetition  of  the  same  attempt.  Robertson  uttered  not  a 
word  of  reflection  on  his  companion  for  the  consequences  of 
his  obstinacy;  but  it  appeared  from  the  sequel  that  Wilson's 
mind  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  recollection  that,  but  for 
him,  his  comrade,  over  whose  mind  he  exercised  considerable 
influence,  would  not  have  engaged  in  the  criminal  enterprise 
which  had  terminated  thus  fatally ;  and  that  now  he  had  be- 
come his  destroyer  a  second  time,  since,  but  for  his  obstinacy, 
Robertson  might  have  effected  his  escape.  Minds  like  Wil- 
son's, even  when  exercised  in  evil  practices,  sometimes  retain 
the  power  of  thinking  and  resolving  with  enthusiastic  gene- 
rosity. His  whole  thoughts  were  now  bent  on  the  possibility 
of  saving  Robertson's  life,  without  the  least  respect  to  his 
own.  The  resolution  which  he  adopted,  and  the  manner  in 
which  he  carried  it  into  effect,  were  striking  and  unusual. 

Adjacent  to  the  tolbooth  or  city  jail  of  Edinburgh  is  one  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


39 


three  churches  into  which  the  cathedral  of  St.  Giles  is  now 
divided,  called  from  its  vicinity,  the  Tolbooth  Church.  It 
was  the  custom  that  criminals  under  sentence  of  death  were 
brought  to  this  church,  with  a  sufficient  guard,  to  hear  and 
join  in  public  worship  on  the  Sabbath  before  execution.  It 
was  supposed  that  the  hearts  of  these  unfortunate  persons, 
however  hardened  before  against  feelings  of  devotion,  could 
not  but  be  accessible  to  them  upon  uniting  their  thoughts  and 
voices,  for  the  last  time,  along  with  their  fellow-mortals,  in 
addressing  their  Creator.  And  to  the  rest  of  the  congregation, 
it  was  thought  it  could  not  but  be  impressive  and  affecting  to 
find  their  devotions  mingling  with  those  who,  sent  by  the  doom 
of  an  earthly  tribunal  to  appear  where  the  whole  earth  is 
judged,  might  be  considered  as  beings  trembling  on  the  verge 
of  eternity.  The  practice,  however  edifying,  has  been  discon- 
tinued, in  consequence  of  the  incident  we  are  about  to  detail. 

The  clergyman  whose  duty  it  was  to  officiate  in  the  Tolbooth 
Church  had  concluded  an  affecting  discourse,  part  of  which 
was  particularly  directed  to  the  unfortunate  men,  Wilson  and 
Robertson,  who  were  in  the  pew  set  apart  for  the  persons  in 
their  unhappy  situation,  each  secured  betwixt  two  soldiers  of 
the  City  Guard.  The  clergyman  had  reminded  them  that  the 
next  congregation  they  must  join  would  be  that  of  the  just  or 
of  the  unjust;  that  the  psalms  they  now  heard  must  be  ex- 
changed, in  the  space  of  two  brief  days,  for  eternal  hallelujahs 
or  eternal  lamentations ;  and  that  this  fearful  alternative  must 
depend  upon  the  state  to  which  they  might  be  able  to  bring 
their  minds  before  the  moment  of  awful  preparation;  that 
they  should  not  despair  on  account  of  the  suddenness  of  the 
summons,  but  rather  to  feel  this  comfort  in  their  misery,  that, 
though  all  who  now  lifted  the  voice,  or  bent  the  knee,  in  con- 
junction with  them,  lay  under  the  same  sentence  of  certain 
death,  they  only  had  the  advantage  of  knowing  the  precise 
moment  at  which  it  should  be  executed  upon  them.  "  There- 
fore," urged  the  good  man,  his  voice  trembling  with  emotion, 
"redeem  the  time,  my  unhappy  brethren,  which  is  yet  left; 
and  remember  that,  with  the  grace  of  Him  to  whom  space  and 
time  are  but  as  nothing,  salvation  may  yet  be  assured,  even 


40 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


in  the  pittance  of  delay  which  the  laws  of  your  country  af- 
ford you. " 

Robertson  was  observed  to  weep  at  these  words;  but  Wilson 
seemed  as  one  whose  brain  had  not  entirely  received  their 
meaning,  or  whose  thoughts  were  deeply  impressed  with  some 
different  subject;  an  expression  so  natural  to  a  person  in  his 
situation  that  it  excited  neither  suspicion  nor  surprise. 

The  benediction  was  pronounced  as  usual,  and  the  congrega- 
tion was  dismissed,  many  lingering  to  indulge  their  curiosity 
with  a  more  fixed  look  at  the  two  criminals,  who  now,  as  well 
as  their  guards,  rose  up,  as  if  to  depart  when  the  crowd  should 
permit  them.  A  murmur  of  compassion  was  heard  to  pervade 
the  spectators,  the  more  general,  perhaps,  on  account  of  the 
alleviating  circumstances  of  the  case;  when,  all  at  once,  Wil- 
son, who,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  was  a  very  strong  man, 
seized  two  of  the  soldiers,  one  with  each  hand,  and  calling  at 
the  same  time  to  his  companion,  "Run,  Geordie,  run!" 
threw  himself  on  a  third,  and  fastened  his  teeth  on  the  collar 
of  his  coat.  Robertson  stood  for  a  second  as  if  thunderstruck, 
and  unable  to  avail  himself  of  the  opportunity  of  escape;  but 
the  cry  of  "Run,  run!"  being  echoed  from  many  around, 
whose  feelings  surprised  them  into  a  very  natural  interest  in 
his  behalf,  he  shook  off  the  grasp  of  the  remaining  soldier, 
threw  himself  over  the  pew,  mixed  with  the  dispersing  con- 
gregation, none  of  whom  felt  inclined  to  stop  a  poor  wretch 
taking  this  last  chance  for  his  life,  gained  the  door  of  the 
church,  and  was  lost  to  all  pursuit. 

The  generous  intrepidity  which  Wilson  had  displayed  on 
this  occasion  augmented  the  feeling  of  compassion  which  at- 
tended his  fate.  The  public,  where  their  own  prejudices  are 
not  concerned  being  easily  engaged  on  the  side  of  disinterested- 
ness and  humanity,  admired  Wilson's  behaviour,  and  rejoiced 
in  Robertson's  escape.  This  general  feeling  was  so  great  that 
it  excited  a  vague  report  that  Wilson  would  be  rescued  at  the 
place  of  execution,  either  by  the  mob  or  by  some  of  his  old 
associates,  or  by  some  second  extraordinary  and  unexpected 
exertion  of  strength  and  courage  on  his  own  part.  The  magis- 
trates thought  it  their  duty  to  provide  against  the  possibility 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


41 


of  disturbance.  They  ordered  out,  for  protection  of  the  ex- 
ecution of  the  sentence,  the  greater  part  of  their  own  City 
Guard,  under  the  command  of  Captain  Porteous,  a  man  whose 
name  became  too  memorable  from  the  melancholy  circumstances 
of  the  day  and  subsequent  events.  It  may  be  necessary  to  say 
a  word  about  this  person  and  the  corps  which  he  commanded. 
But  the  subject  is  of  importance  sufficient  to  deserve  another 
chapter. 


CHAPTER  III. 

And  thou,  great  god  of  aqua-vitae ! 
Wha  sways  the  empire  of  this  city, 
(When  fou  we're  sometimes  capernoity), 

Be  thou  prepared, 
To  save  us  frae  that  black  banditti, 

The  City  Guard ! 

Ferguson's  Daft  Days. 

Captain  John  Porteous,  a  name  memorable  in  the  tradi- 
tions of  Edinburgh,  as  well  as  in  the  records  of  criminal  juris- 
prudence, was  the  son  of  a  citizen  of  Edinburgh,  who  endeav- 
oured to  breed  him  up  to  his  own  mechanical  trade  of  a  tailor. 
The  youth,  however,  had  a  wild  and  irreclaimable  propensity 
to  dissipation,  which  finally  sent  him  to  serve  in  the  corps 
long  maintained  in  the  service  of  the  States  of  Holland,  and 
called  the  Scotch  Dutch.  Here  he  learned  military  discipline ; 
and  returning  afterwards,  in  the  course  of  an  idle  and  wander- 
ing life,  to  his  native  city,  his  services  were  required  by  the 
magistrates  of  Edinburgh,  in  the  disturbed  year  1715,  for  dis- 
ciplining their  City  Guard,  in  which  he  shortly  afterwards 
received  a  captain's  commission.  It  was  only  by  his  military 
skill,  and  an  alert  and  resolute  character  as  an  officer  of  police, 
that  he  merited  this  promotion,  for  he  is  said  to  have  been 
a  man  of  profligate  habits,  an  unnatural  son,  and  a  brutal 
husband.  He  was,  however,  useful  in  his  station,  and  his 
harsh  and  fierce  habits  rendered  him  formidable  to  rioters  or 
disturbers  of  the  public  peace. 

The  corps  in  which  he  held  his  command  is,  or  perhaps  we 


42 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


should  rather  say  was,  a  body  of  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty  soldiers,  divided  into  three  companies  and  regularly 
armed,  clothed,  and  embodied.  They  were  chiefly  veterans 
who  enlisted  in  this  corps,  having  the  benefit  of  working  at 
their  trades  when  they  were  off  duty.  These  men  had  the 
charge  of  preserving  public  order,  repressing  riots  and  street 
robberies,  acting,  in  short,  as  an  armed  police,  and  attending 
on  all  public  occasions  where  confusion  or  popular  disturbance 
might  be  expected.1  Poor  Ferguson,  whose  irregularities 
sometimes  led  him  into  unpleasant  rencontres  with  these  mili- 
tary conservators  of  public  order,  and  who  mentions  them  so 
often  that  he  may  be  termed  their  poet  laureate,  thus  admon- 
ishes his  readers,  warned  doubtless  by  his  own  experience : 

Gude  folk,  as  ye  come  frae  the  fair, 

Bide  yont  frae  this  black  squad  ; 
There's  nae  sic  savages  elsewhere 

Allow1  d  to  wear  cockad. 

In  fact,  the  soldiers  of  the  City  Guard,  being  as  we  have 
said,  in  general  discharged  veterans,  who  had  strength  enough 
remaining  for  this  municipal  duty,  and  being,  moreover,  for 
the  greater  part,  Highlanders,  were  neither  by  birth,  educa- 
tion, or  former  habits  trained  to  endure  with  much  patience 
the  insults  of  the  rabble,  or  the  provoking  petulance  of  truant 
schoolboys,  and  idle  debauchees  of  all  descriptions,  with  whom 
their  occupation  brought  them  into  contact.  On  the  contrary, 
the  tempers  of  the  poor  old  fellows  were  soured  by  the  indig- 
nities with  which  the  mob  distinguished  them  on  many  occa- 
sions, and  frequently  might  have  required  the  soothing  strains 
of  the  poet  we  have  just  quoted: 

O  soldiers  !  for  your  ain  dear  sakes, 
For  Scotland's  love,  the  Land  o'  Cakes, 
Gie  not  her  bairns  sic  deadly  paiks, 
Nor  be  sae  rude, 
Wi'  firelock  or  Lochaber  axe, 

As  spill  their  bluid  ! 

On  all  occasions  when  a  holiday  licensed  some  riot  and 
irregularity,  a  skirmish  with  these  veterans  was  a  favourite 
1  See  Edinburgh  City  Guard.    Note  3. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


43 


recreation  with,  the  rabble  of  Edinburgh.  These  pages  may 
perhaps  see  the  light  when  many  have  in  fresh  recollection 
such  onsets  as  we  allude  to.  But  the  venerable  corps  with 
whom  the  contention  was  held  may  now  be  considered  as 
totally  extinct.  Of  late  the  gradual  diminution  of  these  civic 
soldiers  reminds  one  of  the  abatement  of  King  Lear's  hundred 
knights.  The  edicts  of  each  succeeding  set  of  magistrates 
have,  like  those  of  Goneril  and  Kegan,  diminished  this  vener- 
able, band  with  the  similar  question,  "  What  need  we  five  and 
twenty? — ten? — or  five?"  And  it  is  now  nearly  come  to, 
"  What  need  one?"  A  spectre  may  indeed  here  and  there  still 
be  seen,  of  an  old  grey-headed  and  grey-bearded  Highlander, 
with  war-worn  features,  but  bent  double  by  age ;  dressed  in  an 
old-fashioned  cocked  hat,  bound  with  white  tape  instead  of 
silver  lace,  and  in  coat,  waistcoat,  and  breeches  of  a  muddy- 
coloured  red,  bearing  in  his  withered  hand  an  ancient  weapon, 
called  a  Lochaber  axe,  a  long  pole,  namely,  with  an  axe  at 
the  extremity  and  a  hook  at  the  back  of  the  hatchet. 1  Such 
a  phantom  of  former  days  still  creeps,  I  have  been  informed, 
round  the  statue  of  Charles  the  Second,  in  the  Parliament 
Square,  as  if  the  image  of  a  Stuart  were  the  last  refuge  for 
any  memorial  of  our  ancient  manners ;  and  one  or  two  others 
are  supposed  to  glide  around  the  door  of  the  guard-house  as- 
signed to  them  in  the  Luckenbooths  when  their  ancient  refuge 
in  the  High  Street  was  laid  low.'J  But  the  fate  of  manuscripts 
bequeathed  to  friends  and  executors  is  so  uncertain,  that  the 
.narrative  containing  these  frail  memorials  of  the  old  Town 
Guard  of  Edinburgh,  who,  with  their  grim  and  valiant  cor- 
poral, John  Dhu,  the  fiercest-looking  fellow  1  ever  saw,  were, 
in  my  boyhood,  the  alternate  terror  and  derision  of  the  petu- 
lant brood  of  the  High  School,  may,  perhaps,  only  come  to 
light  when  all  memory  of  the  institution  has  faded  away,  and 
then  serve  as  an  illustration  of  Kay's  caricatures,  who  has 
preserved  the  features  of  some  of  their  heroes.  In  the  preced- 
ing generation,  when  there  was  a  perpetual  alarm  for  the  plots 

1  This  hook  was  to  enable  the  bearer  of  the  Lochaber  axe  to  scale  a  gate- 
way, by  grappling  the  top  of  the  door  and  swinging  himself  up  by  the 
staff  of  his  weapon. 

2  See  Last  March  of  the  City  Guard.    Note  4. 


44 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  activity  of  the  Jacobites,  some  pains  were  taken  by  the 
magistrates  of  Edinburgh  to  keep  this  corps,  though  composed 
always  of  such  materials  as  we  have  noticed,  in  a  more  effec- 
tive state  than  was  afterwards  judged  necessary,  when  their 
most  dangerous  service  was  to  skirmish  with  the  rabble  on  the 
king's  birthday.  They  were,  therefore,  more  the  object  of 
hatred,  and  less  that  of  scorn,  than  they  were  afterwards  ac- 
counted. 

To  Captain  John  Porteous  the  honour  of  his  command  and 
of  his  corps  seems  to  have  been  a  matter  of  high  interest  and 
importance.  He  was  exceedingly  incensed  against  Wilson  for 
the  affront  which  he  construed  him  to  have  put  upon  his  sol- 
diers, in  the  effort  he  made  for  the  liberation  of  his  companion, 
and  expressed  himself  most  ardently  on  the  subject.  He  was 
no  less  indignant  at  the  report  that  there  was  an  intention  to 
rescue  Wilson  himself  from  the  gallows,  and  uttered  many 
threats  and  imprecations  upon  that  subject,  which  were  after- 
wards remembered  to  his  disadvantage.  In  fact,  if  a  good 
deal  of  determination  and  promptitude  rendered  Porteous,  in 
one  respect,  fit  to  command  guards  designed  to  suppress  popu- 
lar commotion,  he  seems,  on  the  other,  to  have  been  disquali- 
fied for  a  charge  so  delicate  by  a  hot  and  surly  temper,  always 
too  ready  to  come  to  blows  and  violence,  a  character  void  of 
principle,  and  a  disposition  to  regard  the  rabble,  who  seldom 
failed  to  regale  him  and  his  soldiers  with  some  marks  of  then- 
displeasure,  as  declared  enemies,  upon  whom  it  was  natural 
and  justifiable  that  he  should  seek  opportunities  of  vengeance. 
Being,  however,  the  most  active  and  trustworthy  among  the 
captains  of  the  City  Guard,  he  was  the  person  to  whom  the 
magistrates  confided  the  command  of  the  soldiers  appointed  to 
keep  the  peace  at  the  time  of  Wilson's  execution.  He  was 
ordered  to  guard  the  gallows  and  scaffold,  with  about  eighty 
men,  all  the  disposable  force  that  could  be  spared  for  that 
duty. 

But  the  magistrates  took  farther  precautions,  which  affected 
Porteous's  pride  very  deeply.  They  requested  the  assistance 
of  part  of  a  regular  infantry  regiment,  not  to  attend  upon  the 
execution,  but  to  remain  drawn  up  on  the  principal  street  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


45 


the  city,  during  the  time  that  it  went  forward,  in  order  to  in- 
timidate the  multitude,  in  case  they  should  be  disposed  to  be 
unruly,  with  a  display  of  force  which  could  not  be  resisted 
without  desperation.  It  may  sound  ridiculous  in  our  ears, 
considering  the  fallen  state  of  this  ancient  civic  corps,  that  its 
officer  should  have  felt  punctiliously  jealous  of  this  honour. 
Yet  so  it  was.  Captain  Porteous  resented  as  an  indignity  the 
introducing  the  Welsh  Fusileers  within  the  city,  and,  drawing 
them  up  in  the  street  where  no  drums  but  his  own  were  allowed 
to  be  sounded  without  the  special  command  or  permission  of 
the  magistrates.  As  he  could  not  show  his  ill-humour  to  his 
patrons  the  magistrates,  it  increased  his  indignation  and  his 
desire  to  be  revenged  on  the  unfortunate  criminal  Wilson,  and 
all  who  favoured  him.  These  internal  emotions  of  jealousy 
and  rage  wrought  a  change  on  the  man's  mien  and  bearing, 
visible  to  all  who  saw  him  on  the  fatal  morning  when  Wilson 
was  appointed  to  suffer.  Porteous  ?s  ordinary  appearance  was 
rather  favourable.  He  was  about  the  middle  size,  stout,  and 
well  made,  having  a  military  air,  and  yet  rather  a  gentle  and 
mild  countenance.  His  complexion  was  brown,  his  face  some- 
what fretted  with  the  scars  of  the  small-pox,  his  eyes  rather 
languid  than  keen  or  fierce.  On  the  present  occasion,  how- 
ever, it  seemed  to  those  who  saw  him  as  if  he  were  agitated 
by  some  evil  demon.  His  step  was  irregular,  his  voice  hollow 
and  broken,  his  countenance  pale,  his  eyes  staring  and  wild, 
his  speech  imperfect  and  confused,  and  his  whole  appearance 
so  disordered  that  many  remarked  he  seemed  to  be  "  fey, "  a 
Scottish  expression,  meaning  the  state  of  those  who  are  driven 
on  to  their  impending  fate  by  the  strong  impulse  of  some  irre- 
sistible necessity. 

One  part  of  his  conduct  was  truly  diabolical,  if,  indeed,  it 
has  not  been  exaggerated  by  the  general  prejudice  entertained 
against  his  memory.  When  Wilson,  the  unhappy  criminal, 
was  delivered  to  him  by  the  keeper  of  the  prison,  in-order  that 
he  might  be  conducted  to  the  place  of  execution,  Porteous,  not 
satisfied  with  the  usual  precautions  to  prevent  escape,  ordered 
him  to  be  manacled.  This  might  be  justifiable  from  the  char- 
acter and  bodily  strength  of  the  malefactor,  as  well  as  from 


46 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  apprehensions  so  generally  entertained  of  an  expected 
rescue.  But  the  handcuffs  which  were  produced  being  found 
too  small  for  the  wrists  of  a  man  so  big-boned  as  Wilson,  Por- 
teous  proceeded  with  his  own  hands,  and  by  great  exertion  of 
strength,  to  force  them  till  they  clasped  together,  to  the  ex- 
quisite torture  of  the  unhappy  criminal.  Wilson  remonstrated 
against  such  barbarous  usage,  declaring  that  the  pain  distract- 
ed his  thoughts  from  the  subjects  of  meditation  proper  to  his 
unhappy  condition. 

"It  signifies  little,"  replied  Captain  Porteous;  "your  pain 
will  be  soon  at  an  end." 

"  Your  cruelty  is  great, "  answered  the  sufferer.  "  You  know 
not  how  soon  you  yourself  may  have  occasion  to  ask  the  mercy 
which  you  are  now  refusing  to  a  fellow-creature.  May  God 
forgive  you!" 

These  words,  long  afterwards  quoted  and  remembered,  were 
all  that  passed  between  Porteous  and  his  prisoner ;  but  as  they 
took  air  and  became  known  to  the  people,  they  greatly  increased 
the  popular  compassion  for  Wilson,  and  excited  a  proportionate 
degree  of  indignation  against  Porteous,  against  whom,  as  strict, 
and  even  violent,  in  the  discharge  of  his  unpopular  office,  the 
common  people  had  some  real,  and  many  imaginary,  causes  of 
complaint. 

When  the  painful  procession  was  completed,  and  Wilson, 
and  the  escort,  had  arrived  at  the  scaffold  in  the  Grassmarket, 
there  appeared  no  signs  of  that  attempt  to  rescue  him  which 
had  occasioned  such  precautions.  The  multitude,  in  general, 
looked  on  with  deeper  interest  than  at  ordinary  executions ; 
and  there  might  be  seen  on  the  countenances  of  many  a  stern 
and  indignant  expression,  like  that  with  which  the  ancient 
Cameronians  might  be  supposed  to  witness  the  execution  of 
their  brethren,  who  glorified  the  Covenant  on  the  same  occa- 
sion, and  at  the  same  spot.  But  there  was  no  attempt  at  vio- 
lence. Wilson  himself  seemed  disposed  to  hasten  over  the 
space  that  divided  time  from  eternity.  The  devotions  proper 
and  usual  on  such  occasions  were  no  sooner  finished  than  he 
submitted  to  his  fate,  and  the  sentence  of  the  law  was  fulfilled. 

He  had  been  suspended  on  the  gibbet  so  long  as  to  be  totally 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


47 


deprived  of  life,  when  at  once,  as  if  occasioned  by  some  newly- 
received  impulse,  there  arose  a  tumult  among  the  multitude. 
Many  stones  were  thrown  at  Porteous  and  his  guards ;  some 
mischief  was  done ;  and  the  mob  continued  to  press  forward 
with  whoops,  shrieks,  howls,  and  exclamations.  A  young 
fellow,  with  a  sailor's  cap  slouched  over  his  face,  sprung  on 
the  scaffold  and  cut  the  rope  by  which  the  criminal  was  sus- 
pended. Others  approached  to  carry  off  the  body,  either  to 
secure  for  it  a  decent  grave,  or  to  try,  perhaps,  some  means 
of  resuscitation.  Captain  Porteous  was  wrought,  by  this  ap- 
pearance of  insurrection  against  his  authority,  into  a  rage  so 
headlong  as  made  him  forget  that,  the  sentence  having  been 
fully  executed,  it  was  his  duty  not  to  engage  in  hostilities 
with  the  misguided  multitude,  but  to  draw  off  his  men  as  fast 
as  possible.  He  sprung  from  the  scaffold,  snatched  a  musket 
from  one  of  his  soldiers,  commanded  the  party  to  give  fire, 
and,  as  several  eye-witnesses  concurred  in  swearing,  set  them 
the  example  by  discharging  his  piece  and  shooting  a  man  dead 
on  the  spot.  Several  soldiers  obeyed  his  command  or  followed 
his  example ;  six  or  seven  persons  were  slain,  and  a  great  many 
were  hurt  and  wounded. 

After  this  act  of  violence,  the  Captain  proceeded  to  with- 
draw his  men  towards  their  guard-house  in  the  High  Street. 
The  mob  were  not  so  much  intimidated  as  incensed  by  what 
had  been  done.  They  pursued  the  soldiers  with  execrations, 
accompanied  by  volleys  of  stones.  As  they  pressed  on  them, 
the  rearmost  soldiers  turned  and  again  fired  with  fatal  aim 
and  execution.  It  is  not  accurately  known  whether  Porteous 
commanded  this  second  act  of  violence;  but  of  course  the 
odium  of  the  whole  transactions  of  the  fatal  day  attached  to 
him,  and  to  him  alone.  He  arrived  at  the  guard-house,  dis- 
*  missed  his  soldiers,  and  went  to  make  his  report  to  the  magis- 
trates concerning  the  unfortunate  events  of  the  day. 

Apparently  by  this  time  Captain  Porteous  had  begun  to 
doubt  the  propriety  of  his  own  conduct,  and  the  reception  he 
met  with  from  the  magistrates  was  such  as  to  make  him  still 
more  anxious  to  gloss  it  over.  He  denied  that  he  had  given 
orders  to  fire;  he  denied  he  had  fired  with  his  own  hand;  he 


48 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


even  produced  the  fusee  which  he  carried  as  an  officer  for  ex- 
amination: it  was  found  still  loaded.  Of  three  cartridges 
which  he  was  seen  to  put  in  his  pouch  that  morning,  two  were 
still  there ;  a  white  handkerchief  was  thrust  into  the  muzzle 
of  the  piece,  and  returned  unsoiled  or  blackened.  To  the  de- 
fence founded  on  these  circumstances  it  was  answered,  that 
Porteous  had  not  used  his  own  piece,  but  had  been  seen  to 
take  one  from  a  soldier.  Among  the  many  who  had  been 
killed  and  wounded  by  the  unhappy  fire,  there  were  several  of 
better  rank ;  for  even  the  humanity  of  such  soldiers  as  fired 
over  the  heads  of  the  mere  rabble  around  the  scaffold,  proved 
in  some  instances  fatal  to  persons  who  were  stationed  in  win- 
dows, or  observed  the  melancholy  scene  from  a  distance.  The 
voice  of  public  indignation  was  loud  and  general,  and,  ere 
men's  tempers  had  time  to  cool,  the  trial  of  Captain  Porteous 
took  place  before  the  High  Court  of  Justiciary.  After  a  long 
and  patient  hearing,  the  jury  had  the  difficult  duty  of  balanc- 
ing the  positive  evidence  of  many  persons,  and  those  of  re- 
spectability, who  deposed  positively  to  the  prisoner's  com- 
manding his  soldiers  to  fire,  and  himself  firing  his  piece,  of 
which  some  swore  that  they  saw  the  smoke  and  flash,  and 
beheld  a  man  drop  at  whom  it  was  pointed,  with  the  negative 
testimony  of  others,  who,  though  well  stationed  for  seeing 
what  had  passed,  neither  heard  Porteous  give  orders  to  fire, 
nor  saw  him  fire  himself ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  averred  that 
the  first  shot  was  fired  by  a  soldier  who  stood  close  by  him. 
A  great  part  of  his  defence  was  also  founded  on  the  turbulence 
of  the  mob,  which  witnesses,  according  to  their  feelings,  their 
predilections,  and  their  opportunities  of  observation,  repre- 
sented differently ;  some  describing  as  a  formidable  riot  what 
others  represented  as  a  trifling  disturbance,  such  as  always  used 
to  take  place  on  the  like  occasions,  when  the  executioner  of 
the  law  and  the  men  commissioned  to  protect  him  in  his  task 
were  generally  exposed  to  some  indignities.  The  verdict  of 
the  jury  sufficiently  shows  how  the  evidence  preponderated 
in  their  minds.  It  declared  that  John  Porteous  fired  a  gun 
among  the  people  assembled  at  the  execution ;  that  he  gave 
orders  to  his  soldiers  to  fire,  by  which  many  persons  were 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


49 


killed  and  wounded ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  prisoner 
and  his  guard  had  been  wounded  and  beaten  by  stones  thrown 
at  them  by  the  multitude.  Upon  this  verdict,  the  Lords  of 
Justiciary  passed  sentence  of  death  against  Captain  John  Por- 
teous,  adjudging  him,  in  the  common  form,  to  be  hanged  on 
a  gibbet  at  the  common  place  of  execution,  on  Wednesday,  8th 
September  1736,  and  all  his  movable  property  to  be  forfeited 
to  the  king's  use,  according  to  the  Scottish  law  in  cases  of 
wilful  murder. 


CHAPTER,  IV. 

The  hour's  come,  but  not  the  man.1 

Kelpie. 

On  the  day  when  the  unhappy  Porteous  was  expected  to 
suffer  the  sentence  of  the  law,  the  place  of  execution,  exten- 
sive as  it  is,  was  crowded  almost  to  suffocation.  There  was 
not  a  window  in  all  the  lofty  tenements  around  it,  or  in  the 
steep  and  crooked  street  called  the  Bow,  by  which  the  fatal 
procession  was  to  descend  from  the  High  Street,  that  was  not 
absolutely  rilled  with  spectators.  The  uncommon  height  and 
antique  appearance  of  these  houses,  some  of  which  were 
formerly  the  property  of  the  Knights  Templars  and  the 
Knights  of  St.  John,  and  still  exhibit  on  their  fronts  and 
gables  the  iron  cross  of  these  orders,  gave  additional  effect  to 
a  scene  in  itself  so  striking.  The  area  of  the  Grassmarket 
resembled  a  huge  dark  lake  or  sea  of  human  heads,  in  the 
centre  of  which  arose  the  fatal  tree,  tall,  black,  and  ominous, 
from  which  dangled  the  deadly  halter.  Every  object  takes 
interest  from  its  uses  and  associations,  and  the  erect  beam  and 
empty  noose,  things  so  simple  in  themselves,  became,  on  such 
an  occasion,  objects  of  terror  and  of  solemn  interest. 

Amid  so  numerous  an  assembly  there  was  scarcely  a  word 
spoken,  save  in  whispers.  The  thirst  of  vengeance  was  in 
some  degree  allayed  by  its  supposed  certainty ;  and  even  the 
populace,  with  deeper  feeling  than  they  were  wont  to  enter- 

1  See  The  Kelpie's  Voice.   Note  5. 

4 


50 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


tain,  suppressed  all  clamorous  exultation,  and  prepared  to  en- 
joy the  scene  of  retaliation  in  triumph,  silent  and  decent, 
though  stern  and  relentless.  It  seemed  as  if  the  depth  of 
their  hatred  to  the  unfortunate  criminal  scorned  to  display 
itself  in  anything  resembling  the  more  noisy  current  of  their 
ordinary  feelings.  Had  a  stranger  consulted  only  the  evidence 
of  his  ears,  he  might  have  supposed  that  so  vast  a  multitude 
were  assembled  for  some  purpose  which  affected  them  with  the 
deepest  sorrow,  and  stilled  those  noises  which,  on  all  ordinary 
occasions,  arise  from  such  a  concourse ;  but  if  he  gazed  upon 
their  faces  he  would  have  been  instantly  undeceived.  The 
compressed  lip,  the  bent  brow,  the  stern  and  flashing  eye  of 
almost  every  one  on  whom  he  looked,  conveyed  the  expression 
of  men  come  to  glut  their  sight  with  triumphant  revenge.  It 
is  probable  that  the  appearance  of  the  criminal  might  have 
somewhat  changed  the  temper  of  the  populace  in  his  favour, 
and  that  they  might  in  the  moment  of  death  have  forgiven 
the  man  against  whom  their  resentment  had  been  so  fiercely 
heated.  It  had,  however,  been  destined  that  the  mutability 
of  their  sentiments  was  not  to  be  exposed  to  this  trial. 

The  usual  hour  for  producing  the  criminal  had  been  past  for 
many  minutes,  yet  the  spectators  observed  no  symptom  of  his 
appearance.  "  Would  they  venture  to  defraud  public  justice?" 
was  the  question  which  men  began  anxiously  to  ask  at  each 
other.  The  first  answer  in  every  case  was  bold  and  positive: 
"  They  dare  not. "  But  when  the  point  was  further  canvassed, 
other  opinions  were  entertained,  and  various  causes  of  doubt 
were  suggested.  Porteous  had  been  a  favourite  officer  of  the 
magistracy  of  the  city,  which,  being  a  numerous  and  fluctu- 
ating body,  requires  for  its  support  a  degree  of  energy  in  its 
functionaries  which  the  individuals  who  compose  it  cannot  at 
all  times  alike  be  supposed  to  possess  in  their  own  persons. 
It  was  remembered  that  in  the  information  for  Porteous  (the 
paper,  namely,  in  which  his  case  was  stated  to  the  judges  of 
the  criminal  court),  he  had  been  described  by  his  counsel  as 
the  person  on  whom  the  magistrates  chiefly  relied  in  all  emer- 
gencies of  uncommon  difficulty.  It  was  argued,  too,  that  his 
conduct,  on  the  unhappy  occasion  of  Wilson's  execution,  was 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


51 


capable  of  being  attributed  to  an  imprudent  excess  of  zeal  in 
the  execution  of  his  duty,  a  motive  for  which  those  under 
whose  authority  he  acted  might  be  supposed  to  have  great 
sympathy.  And  as  these  considerations  might  move  the 
magistrates  to  make  a  favourable  representation  of  Porteous  ?s 
case,  there  were  not  wanting  others  in  the  higher  departments 
of  government  which  would  make  such  suggestions  favourably 
listened  to. 

The  mob  of  Edinburgh,  when  thoroughly  excited,  had  been 
at  all  times  one  of  the  fiercest  which  could  be  found  in  Europe ; 
and  of  late  years  they  had  risen  repeatedly  against  the  govern- 
ment, and  sometimes  not  without  temporary  success.  They 
were  conscious,  therefore,  that  they  were  no  favourites  with 
the  rulers  of  the  period,  and  that,  if  Captain  Porteous' s  vio- 
lence was  not  altogether  regarded  as  good  service,  it  might 
certainly  be  thought  that  to  visit  it  with  a  capital  punishment 
would  render  it  both  delicate  and  dangerous  for  future  officers, 
in  the  same  circumstances,  to  act  with  effect  in  repressing 
tumults.  There  is  also  a  natural  feeling,  on  the  part  of  all 
members  of  government,  for  the  general  maintenance  of 
authority ;  and  it  seemed  not  unlikely  that  what  to  the  rela- 
tives of  the  sufferers  appeared  a  wanton  and  unprovoked  mas- 
sacre, should  be  otherwise  viewed  in  the  cabinet  of  St. 
James's.  It  might  be  there  supposed  that,  upon  the  whole 
matter,  Captain  Porteous  was  in  the  exercise  of  a  trust  dele- 
gated to  him  by  the  lawful  civil  authority ;  that  he  had  been 
assaulted  by  the  populace,  and  several  of  his  men  hurt ;  and 
that,  in  finally  repelling  force  by  force,  his  conduct  could  be 
fairly  imputed  to  no  other  motive  than  self-defence  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duty. 

These  considerations,  of  themselves  very  powerful,  induced 
the  spectators  to  apprehend  the  possibility  of  a  reprieve ;  and 
to  the  various  causes  which  might  interest  the  rulers  in  his 
favour,  the  lower  part  of  the  rabble  added  one  which  was  pecu- 
liarly well  adapted  to  their  comprehension.  It  was  averred, 
in  order  to  increase  the  odium  against  Porteous,  that,  while 
he  repressed  with  the  utmost  severity  the  slightest  excesses  of 
the  poor,  he  not  only  overlooked  the  license  of  the  young 


52 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


nobles  and  gentry,  but  was  very  willing  to  lend  them  the 
countenance  of  his  official  authority  in  execution  of  such  loose 
pranks  as  it  was  chiefly  his  duty  to  have  restrained.  This 
suspicion,  which  was  perhaps  much  exaggerated,  made  a 
deep  impression  on  the  minds  of  the  populace ;  and  when  sev- 
eral of  the  higher  rank  joined  in  a  petition  recommending 
Porteous  to  the  mercy  of  the  crown,  it  was  generally  sup- 
posed he  owed  their  favour  not  to  any  conviction  of  the  hard- 
ship of  his  case,  but  to  the  fear  of  losing  a  convenient  accom- 
plice in  their  debaucheries.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say 
how  much  this  suspicion  augmented  the  people's  detestation 
of  this  obnoxious  criminal,  as  well  as  their  fear  of  his  escap- 
ing the  sentence  pronounced  against  him. 

While  these  arguments  were  stated  and  replied  to,  and  can- 
vassed and  supported,  the  hitherto  silent  expectation  of  the 
people  became  changed  into  that  deep  and  agitating  murmur 
which  is  sent  forth  by  the  ocean  before  the  tempest  begins  to 
howl.  The  crowded  populace,  as  if  their  motions  had  corre- 
sponded with  the  unsettled  state  of  their  minds,  fluctuated  to 
and  fro  without  any  visible  cause  of  impulse,  like  the  agitation 
of  the  waters  called  by  sailors  the  ground-swell.  The  news, 
which  the  magistrates  had  almost  hesitated  to  communicate  to 
them,  were  at  length  announced,  and  spread  among  the  spec- 
tators with  a  rapidity  like  lightning.  A  reprieve  from  the 
Secretary  of  State's  office,  under  the  hand  of  his  Grace  the 
Duke  of  Newcastle,  had  arrived,  intimating  the  pleasure  of 
Queen  Caroline  (regent  of  the  kingdom  during  the  absence  of 
George  II.  on  the  Continent),  that  the  execution  of  the  sen- 
tence of  death  pronounced  against  John  Porteous,  late  Captain- 
Lieutenant  of  the  City  Guard  of  Edinburgh,  present  prisoner 
in  the  tolbooth  of  that  city,  be  respited  for  six  weeks  from 
the  time  appointed  for  his  execution. 

The  assembled  spectators  of  almost  all  degrees,  whose  minds 
had  been  wound  up  to  the  pitch  which  we  have  described, 
uttered  a  groan,  or  rather  a  roar  of  indignation  and  disap- 
pointed revenge,  similar  to  that  of  a  tiger  from  whom  his 
meal  has  been  rent  by  his  keeper  when  he  was  just  about  to 
devour  it.    This  fierce  exclamation  seemed  to  forebode  some 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


53 


immediate  explosion  of  popular  resentment,  and,  in  fact,  such 
had  been  expected  by  the  magistrates,  and  the  necessary 
measures  had  been  taken  to  repress  it.  But  the  shout  was 
not  repeated,  nor  did  any  sudden  tumult  ensue,  such  as  it  ap- 
peared to  announce.  The  populace  seemed  to  be  ashamed  of 
having  expressed  their  disappointment  in  a  vain  clamour,  and 
the  sound  changed,  not  into  the  silence  which  had  preceded 
the  arrival  of  +hese  stunning  news,  but  into  stifled  mutterings, 
which  each  group  maintained  among  themselves,  and  which 
were  blended  into  one  deep  and  hoarse  murmur  which  floated 
above  the  assembly. 

Yet  still,  though  all  expectation  of  the  execution  was  over, 
the  mob  remained  assembled,  stationary,  as  it  were,  through 
very  resentment,  gazing  on  the  preparations  for  death,  which 
had  now  been  made  in  vain,  and  stimulating  their  feelings  by 
recalling  the  various  claims  which  Wilson  might  have  had  on 
royal  mercy,  from  the  mistaken  motives  on  which  he  acted, 
as  well  as  from  the  generosity  he  had  displayed  towards  his 
accomplice.  "  This  man, "  they  said,  "  the  brave,  the  resolute, 
the  generous,  was  executed  to  death  without  mercy  for  stealing 
a  purse  of  gold,  which  in  some  sense  he  might  consider  as  a 
fair  reprisal ;  while  the  profligate  satellite,  who  took  advantage 
of  a  trifling  tumult,  inseparable  from  such  occasions,  to  shed 
the  blood  of  twenty  of  his  fellow-citizens,  is  deemed  a  fitting  - 
object  for  the  exercise  of  the  royal  prerogative  of  mercy.  Is 
this  to  be  borne?  Would  our  fathers  have  borne  it?  Are  not 
we,  like  them,  Scotsmen  and  burghers  of  Edinburgh?" 

The  officers  of  justice  began  now  to  remove  the  scaffold  and 
other  preparations  which  had  been  made  for  execution,  in 
hopes,  by  doing  so,  to  accelerate  the  dispersion  of  the  multi- 
tude. The  measure  had  the  desired  effect ;  for  no  sooner  had 
the  fatal  tree  been  unfixed  from  the  large  stone  pedestal  or 
socket  in  which  it  was  secured,  and  sunk  slowly  down  upon 
the  wain  intended  to  remove  it  to  the  place  where  it  was 
usually  deposited,  than  the  populace,  after  giving  vent  to 
their  feelings  in  a  second  shout  of  rage  and  mortification, 
began  slowly  to  disperse  to  their  usual  abodes  and  occupa- 
tions. 


54 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


The  windows  were  in  like  manner  gradually  deserted,  and 
groups  of  the  more  decent  class  of  citizens  formed  themselves, 
as  if  waiting  to  return  homewards  when  the  streets  should  be 
cleared  of  the  rabble.  Contrary  to  what  «s  frequently  the 
case,  this  description  of  persons  agreed  in  general  with  the 
sentiments  of  their  inferiors,  and  considered  the  cause  as  com- 
mon to  all  ranks.  Indeed,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  it  was 
by  no  means  amongst  the  lowest  class  of  the,  spectators,  or 
those  most  likely  to  be  engaged  in  the  riot  at  Wilson's  execu- 
tion, that  the  fatal  fire  of  Porteous' s  soldiers  had  taken  effect. 
Several  persons  were  killed  who  were  looking  out  at  windows 
at  the  scene,  who  could  not  of  course  belong  to  the  rioters,  and 
were  persons  of  decent  rank  and  condition.  The  burghers, 
therefore,  resenting  the  loss  which  had  fallen  on  their  own 
body,  and  proud  and  tenacious  of  their  rights,  as  the  citizens 
of  Edinburgh  have  at  all  times  been,  were  greatly  exasperated 
at  the  unexpected  respite  of  Captain  Porteous. 

It  was  noticed  at  the  time,  and  afterwards  more  particularly 
remembered,  that,  while  the  mob  were  in  the  act  of  dispersing, 
several  individuals  were  seen  busily  passing  from  one  place 
and  one  group  of  people  to  another,  remaining  long  with  none, 
but  whispering  for  a  little  time  with  those  who  appeared  to  be 
declaiming  most  violently  against  the  conduct  of  government. 
These  active  agents  had  the  appearance  of  men  from  the 
country,  and  were  generally  supposed  to  be  old  friends  and 
confederates  of  Wilson,  whose  minds  were  of  course  highly 
excited  agains-t  Porteous. 

If,  however,  it  was  the  intention  of  these  men  to  stir  the 
multitude  to  any  sudden  act  of  mutiny,  it  seemed  for  the  time 
to  be  fruitless.  The  rabble,  as  well  as  the  more  decent  part 
of  the  assembly,  dispersed,  and  went  home  peaceably ;  and  it 
was  only  by  observing  the  moody  discontent  on  their  brows, 
or  catching  the  tenor  of  the  conversation  they  held  with  each 
other,  that  a  stranger  could  estimate  the  state  of  their  minds. 
We  will  give  the  reader  this  advantage,  by  associating  ourselves 
with  one  of  the  numerous  groups  who  were  painfully  ascend- 
ing the  steep  declivity  of  the  West  Bow,  to  return  to  their 
dwellings  in  the  Lawnmarket, 


t 

THE  HEART  Oi«'  MIDLOTHIAN. 


55 


aAn  unco  thing  this,  Mrs.  Howden,"  said  old  Peter  Plum- 
damas  to  his  neighbour  the  rouping-wife,  or  saleswoman,  as 
he  offered  her  his  arm  to  assist  her  in  the  toilsome  ascent,  "  to 
see  the  grit  folk  at  Lunnon  set  their  face  against  law  and 
gospel,  and  let  loose  sic  a  reprobate  as  Porteous  upon  a 
peaceable  town!" 

"And  to  think  o'  the  weary  walk  they  hae  gien  us," 
answered  Mrs.  Howden,  with  a  groan ;  "  and  sic  a  comfortable 
window  as  I  had  gotten,  too,  just  within  a  pennystane  cast  of 
the  scaffold — I  could  hae  heard  every  word  the  minister 
said — and  to  pay  twal  pennies  for  my  stand,  and  a'  for 
naething!" 

"  I  am  judging, "  said  Mr.  Plumdamas,  "  that  this  reprieve 
wadna  stand  gude  in  the  auld  Scots  law,  when  the  kingdom 
was  a  kingdom." 

"  I  dinna  ken  muckle  about  the  law, "  answered  Mrs.  How- 
den ;  "  but  I  ken,  when  we  had  a  king,  and  a  chancellor,  and 
parliament  men  o'  our  ain,  we  could  aye  peeble  them  wi'  stanes 
when  they  werena  gude  bairns.  But  naebody's  nails  can  reach 
the  length  o'  Lunnon." 

"Weary  on  Lunnon,  and  a'  that  e'er  came  out  o't!"  said 
Miss  Grizel  Damahoy,  an  ancient  seamstress;  "they  hae  taen 
awa  our  parliament,  and  they  hae  oppressed  our  trade.  Our 
gentles  will  hardly  allow  that  a  Scots  needle  can  sew  ruffles 
on  a  sark,  or  lace  on  an  owerlay." 

"  Ye  may  say  that,  Miss  Damahoy,  and  I  ken  o'  them  that 
hae  gotten  raisins  frae  Lunnon  by  forpits  at  ance,"  responded 
Plumdamas;  "  and  then  sic  an  host  of  idle  English  gaugers 
and  excisemen  as  hae  come  down  to  vex  and  torment  us,  that 
an  honest  man  canna  fetch  sae  muckle  as  a  bit  anker  o' 
brandy  frae  Leith  to  the  Lawnmarket,  but  he's  like  to  be  rub- 
bit  o'  the  very  gudes  he's  bought  and  paid  for.  Weel,  I  win- 
na  justify  Andrew  Wilson  for  pitting  hands  on.  what  wasna 
his;  but  if  he  took  nae  mair  than  his  ain,  there's  an  awfu' 
difference  between  that  and  the  fact  this  man  stands  for. " 

"If  ye  speak  about  the  law,"  said  Mrs.  Howden,  "here 
comes  Mr.  Saddletree,  that  can  settle  it  as  weel  as  ony  on  the 
bench." 


56 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


The  party  she  mentioned,  a  grave  elderly  person,  with  a 
superb  periwig,  dressed  in  a  decent  suit  of  sad-coloured  clothes, 
came  up  as  she  spoke,  and  courteously  gave  his  arm  to  Miss 
Grizel  Damahoy. 

It  may  be  necessary  to  mention  that  Mr.  Bartoline  Saddle- 
tree kept  an  excellent  and  highly-esteemed  shop  for  harness, 
saddles,  etc.  etc.,  at  the  sign  of  the  Golden  Nag,  at  the  head 
of  Bess  Wynd. 1  His  genius,  however  (as  he  himself  and  most 
of  his  neighbours  conceived),  lay  towards  the  weightier  matters 
of  the  law,  and  he  failed  not  to  give  frequent  attendance  upon 
the  pleadings  and  arguments  of  the  lawyers  and  judges  in  the 
neighbouring  square,  where,  ta  say  the  truth,  he  was  of  tener  to 
be  found  than  would  have  consisted  with  his  own  emolument; 
but  that  his  wife,  an  active  painstaking  person,  could,  in  his 
absence,  make  an  admirable  shift  to  please  the  customers  and 
scold  the  journeymen.  This  good  lady  was  in  the  habit  of 
letting  her  husband  take  his  way,  and  go  on  improving  his 
stock  of  legal  knowledge  without  interruption;  but,  as  if  in 
requital,  she  insisted  upon  having  her  own  will  in  the  domes- 
tic and  commercial  departments  which  he  abandoned  to  her. 
Now,  as  Bartoline  Saddletree  had  a  considerable  gift  of  words, 
which  he  mistook  for  eloquence,  and  conferred  more  liberally 
upon  the  society  in  which  he  lived  than  was  at  all  times  gra- 
cious and  acceptable,  there  went  forth  a  saying  with  which 
wags  used  sometimes  to  interrupt  his  rhetoric,  that,  as  he  had 
a  golden  nag  at  his  door,  so  he  had  a  grey  mare  in  his  shop. 
This  reproach  induced  Mr.  Saddletree,  on  all  occasions,  to  as- 
sume rather  a  haughty  and  stately  tone  towards  his  good 
woman,  a  circumstance  by  which  she  seemed  very  little  af- 
fected, unless  he  attempted  to  exercise  any  real  authority, 
when  she  never  failed  to  fly  into  open  rebellion.  But  such 
extremes  Bartoline  seldom  provoked;  for,  like  the  gentle 
King  Jamie,  he  was  fonder  of  talking  of  authority  than  really 
exercising  it.  This  turn  of  mind  was  on  the  whole  lucky  for 
him;  since  his  substance  was  increased  without  any  trouble 
on  his  part,  or  any  interruption  of  his  favourite  studies. 

This  word  in  explanation  has  been  thrown  in  to  the  reader, 
J  See  Bess  Wynd.   Note  6. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


57 


while  Saddletree  was  laying  down,  with  great  precision,  the 
law  upon  Porteous' s  case,  by  which  he  arrived  at  this  conclu- 
sion, that,  if  Porteous  had  fired  five  minutes  sooner,  before 
Wilson  was  cut  down,  he  would  have  been  versans  in  licito, 
engaged,  that  is,  in  a  lawful  act,  and  only  liable  to  be  punished 
propter  excessum,  or  for  lack  of  discretion,  which  might  have 
mitigated  the  punishment  to  poena  ordinaria. 

" Discretion!"  echoed  Mrs.  Howden,  on  whom,  it  may  well 
be  supposed,  the  fineness  of  this  distinction  was  entirely 
thrown  away,  "  whan  had  Jock  Porteous  either  grace,  discre- 
tion, or  gude  manners?    I  mind  when  his  father  " 

"But,  Mrs.  Howden,"  said  Saddletree  

"  And  I, w  said  Miss  Damahoy,  "  mind  when  his  mother  " 

"  Miss  Damahoy, "  entreated  the  interrupted  orator  

"And  I,"  said  Plumdamas,  "mind  when  his  wife  " 

"Mr.  Plumdamas — Mrs.  Howden — Miss  Damahoy,"  again 
implored  the  orator,  "mind  the  distinction,  as  Counsellor 
Crossmyloof  says — £I/  says  he,  'take  a  distinction.'  Now, 
th^  body  of  the  criminal  being  cut  down,  and  the  execution 
ended,  Porteous  was  no  longer  official ;  the  act  which  he  came 
to  protect  and  guard  being  done  and  ended,  he  was  no  better 
than  cuivis  ex  popido" 

"  Quivis — quivis,  Mr.  Saddletree,  craving  your  pardon," 
said,  with  a  prolonged  emphasis  on  the  first  syllable,  Mr. 
Butler,  the  deputy  schoolmaster  of  a  parish  near  Edinburgh, 
who  at  that  moment  came  up  behind  them  as  the  false  Latin 
was  uttered. 

"What  signifies  interrupting  me,  Mr.  Butler? — but  I  am 
glad  to  see  ye  notwithstanding.  I  speak  after  Counsellor 
Cossmyloof,  and  he  said  cuivis  " 

"  If  Counsellor  Crossmyloof  used  the  dative  for  the  nomina- 
tive, I  would  have  crossed  his  loof  with  a  tight  leathern  strap, 
Mr.  Saddletree;  there  is  not  a  boy  on  the  booby  form  but 
should  have  been  scourged  for  such  a  solecism  in  grammar. " 

"  I  speak  Latin  like  a  lawyer,  Mr.  Butler,  and  not  like  a 
schoolmaster,"  retorted  Saddletree. 

"  Scarce  like  a  schoolboy,  I  think,"  rejoined  Butler. 

"  It  matters  little, "  said  Bartoline ;  "  all  I  mean  to  say  is, 


58 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


that  Porteous  has  become  liable  to  the  poena  extra  ordinem,  or 
capital  punishment,  which  is  to  say,  in  plain  Scotch,  the  gal- 
lows, simply  because  he  did  not  fire  when  he  was  in  office,  but 
waited  till  the  body  was  cut  down,  the  execution  whilk  he  had 
in  charge  to  guard  implemented,  and  he  himself  exonered  of 
the  public  trust  imposed  on  him." 

"But,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  said  Plumdamas,  "do  ye  really 
think  John  Porteous 's  case  wad  hae  been  better  if  he  had 
begun  firing  before  ony  stanes  were  flung  at  a'  ?" 

"Indeed  do  I,  neighbour  Plumdamas,"  replied  Bartoline, 
confidently,  "  he  being  then  in  point  of  trust  and  in  point  of 
power,  the  execution  being  but  inchoate,  or,  at  least,  not  im- 
plemented, or  finally  ended;  but  after  Wilson  was  cut  down 
it  was  a'  ower — he  was  clean  exauctorate,  and  had  nae  mair 
ado  but  to  get  awa  wi'  his  Guard  up  this  West  Bow  as  fast  as 
if  there  had  been  a  caption  after  him.  And  this  is  law,  for  I 
heard  it  laid  down  by  Lord  Vincovincentem. " 

"  Vincovincentem!  Is  he  a  lord  of  state  or  a  lord  of  seat?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Howden. 

"  A  lord  of  seat — a  lord  of  session.  I  fash  mysell  little  wi' 
lords  o'  state ;  they  vex  me  wi'  a  wheen  idle  questions  about 
their  saddles,  and  curpels,  and  holsters,  and  horse-furniture, 
and  what  they'll  cost,  an  whan  they'll  be  ready.  A  wheen 
galloping  geese!  my  wife  may  serve  the  like  o'  them." 

"  And  so  might  she,  in  her  day,  hae  served  the  best  lord  in 
the  land,  for  as  little  as  ye  think  o'  her,  Mr.  Saddletree, "  said 
Mrs.  Howden,  somewhat  indignant  at  the  contemptuous  way 
in  which  her  gossip  was  mentioned ;  "  when  she  and  I  were 
twa  gilpies,  we  little  thought  to  hae  sitten  doun  wi'  the  like 
o'  my  auld  Davie  Howden,  or  you  either,  Mr.  Saddletree." 

While  Saddletree,  who  was  not  bright  at  a  reply,  was  cud- 
gelling his  brains  for  an  answer  to  this  home-thrust,  Miss 
Damahoy  broke  in  on  him. 

"And  as  for  the  lords  of  state,"  said  Miss  Damahoy,  "ye 
suld  mind  the  riding  o'  the  parliament,  Mr.  Saddletree,  in 
the  gude  auld  time  before  the  Union:  a  year's  rent  o'  mony 
a  gude  estate  gaed  for  horse-graith  and  harnessing,  forbye 
broidered  robes  and  foot-mantles,  that  wad  hae  stude  by  their 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


59 


lane  wi'  gold  brocade,  and  that  were  muckle  in  my  ain 
line." 

"  Ay,  and  then  the  lusty  banqueting,  with  sweetmeats  and 
comfits  wet  and  dry,  and  dried  fruits  of  divers  sorts,"  said 
Plumdamas.    "But  Scotland  was  Scotland  in  these  days." 

"I'll  tell  ye  what  it  is,  neighbours,"  said  Mrs.  Howden, 
"  I'll  ne'er  believe  Scotland  is  Scotland  ony  mair,  if  our  kind- 
ly Scots  sit  doun  with  the  affront  they  hae  gien  us  this  day. 
It's  not  only  the  bluid  that  is  shed,  but  the  bluid  that  might 
hae  been  shed,  that's  required  at  our  hands.  There  was  my 
daughter's  wean,  little  Eppie  Daidle — my  oe,  ye  ken,  Miss 
Grizel — had  played  the  truant  frae  the  school,  as  bairns  will 
do,  ye  ken,  Mr.  Butler  " 

"And  for  which,"  interjected  Mr.  Butler,  "they  should  be 
soundly  scourged  by  their  well-wishers." 

"And had  just  cruppen  to  the  gallows'  foot  to  see  the  hang- 
ing, as  was  natural  for  a  wean ;  and  what  for  mightna  she  hae 
been  shot  as  weel  as  the  rest  o'  them,  and  where  wad  we  a' 
hae  been  then?  I  wonder  how  Queen  Carline — if  her  name  be 
Carline — wad  hae  liked  to  hae  had  ane  o'  her  ain  bairns  in 
sic  a  venture?" 

"Report  says,"  answered  Butler,  "that  such  a  circumstance 
would  not  have  distressed  her  Majesty  beyond  endurance." 

"Aweel,"  said  Mrs.  Howden,  "the  sum  o'  the  matter  is, 
that,  were  I  a  man,  I  wad  hae  amends  o'  Jock  Porteous,  be 
the  upshot  what  like  o't,  if  a'  the  carles  and  carlines  in 
England  had  sworn  to  the  nay-say." 

"I  would  claw  down  the  tolbooth  door  wi'  my  nails,"  said 
Miss  Grizel,  "but  I  wad  be  at  him." 

"Ye  may  be  very  right,  ladies,"  said  Butler,  "but  I  would 
not  advise  you  to  speak  so  loud. " 

"Speak!"  exclaimed  both  the  ladies  together,  "there  will 
be  naething  else  spoken  about  frae  the  Weigh  House  to  the 
Water  Gate  till  this  is  either  ended  or  mended." 

The  females  now  departed  to  their  respective  places  of 
abode.  Plumdamas  joined  the  other  two  gentlemen  in  drink- 
ing their  "meridian,"  a  bumper-dram  of  brandy,  as  they 
passed  the  well-known  low-browed  shop  in  the  Lawnmarket 


60 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


where  they  were  wont  to  take  that  refreshment.  Mr.  Plum- 
damas  then  departed  towards  his  shop,  and  Mr.  Butler,  who 
happened  to  have  some  particular  occasion  for  the  rein  of  an 
old  bridle — the  truants  of  that  busy  day  could  have  anticipated 
its  application — walked  down  the  Lawnmarket  with  Mr.  Sad- 
dletree, each  talking  as  he  could  get  a  word  thrust  in,  the  one 
on  the  laws  of  Scotland,  the  other  on  those  of  syntax,  and 
neither  listening  to  a  word  which  his  companion  uttered. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Elswhair  he  colde  right  weel  lay  down  the  law, 
But  in  his  house  was  meek  as  is  a  daw. 

Davie  Lindsay. 

"  There  has  been  Jock  Driver,  the  carrier,  here,  speering 
about  his  new  graith,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree  to  her  husband, 
as  he  crossed  his  threshold,  not  with  the  purpose,  by  any 
means,  of  consulting  him  upon  his  own  affairs,  but  merely  to 
intimate,  by  a  gentle  recapitulation,  how  much  duty  she  had 
gone  through  in  his  absence. 

"  Weel, "  replied  Bartoline,  and  deigned  not  a  word  more. 

"  And  the  Laird  of  Girdingburst  has  had  his  running  foot- 
man here,  and  ca'd  himsell — he's  a  civil  pleasant  young  gen- 
tleman— to  see  when  the  broidered  saddle-cloth  for  his  sorrel 
horse  will  be  ready,  for  he  wants  it  again  the  Kelso  races." 

"  Weel,  aweel, "  replied  Bartoline,  as  laconically  as  before. 

"  And  his  lordship,  the  Earl  of  Blazonbury,  Lord  Flash  and 
Flame,  is  like  to  be  clean  daft  that  the  harness  for  the  six 
Flanders  mears,  wi'  the  crests,  coronets,  housings,  and  mount- 
ings conform,  are  no  sent  hame  according  to  promise  gien." 

"Weel,  weel,  weel — weel,  weel,  gudewife,"  said  Saddle- 
tree, "if  he  gangs  daft,  we'll  hae  him  cognosced — it's  a'  very 
weel." 

"It's  weel  that  ye  think  sae,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  answered  his 
helpmate,  rather  nettled  at  the  indifference  with  which  her 
report  was  received;  "there's  mony  ane  wad  hae  thought 
themselves  affronted  if  sae  mony  customers  had  ca'd  and  nae- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


61 


body  to  answer  them  but  women-folk;  for  a'  the  lads  were 
aff,  as  soon  as  your  back  was  turned,  to  see  Porteous  hanged, 
that  might  be  counted  upon;  and  sae,  you  no  being  at 
hame  " 

"Houts,  Mrs.  Saddletree,"  said  Bartoline,  with  an  air  of 
consequence,  "  dinna  deave  me  wi'  your  nonsense ;  I  was  under 
the  necessity  of  being  elsewhere :  non  omnia,  as  Mr.  Crossmy- 
loof  said,  when  he  was  called  by  two  macers  at  once — non 
omnia  possumus — pessimus — possimis — I  ken  our  law  Latin 
offends  Mr.  Butler's  ears,  but  it  means  'Naebody,'  an  it  were 
the  Lord  President  himsell,  '  can  do  twa  turns  at  ance. '  " 

"Very  right,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  answered  his  careful  help- 
mate, with  a  sarcastic  smile;  "and  nae  doubt  it's  a  decent 
thing  to  leave  your  wife  to  look  after  young  gentlemen's  sad- 
dles and  bridles,  when  ye  gang  to  see  a  man  that  never  did  ye 
nae  ill  raxing  a  halter." 

"Woman,"  said  Saddletree,  assuming  an  elevated  tone,  to 
which  the  "meridian"  had  somewhat  contributed,  "desist, — 
I  say  forbear,  from  intromitting  with  affairs  thou  canst  not 
understand.  D'ye  think  I  was  born  to  sit  here  broggin  an 
elshin  through  bend-leather,  when  sic  men  as  Duncan  Forbes 
and  that  other  Arniston  chield  there,  without  muckle  greater 
parts,  if  the  close-head  speak  true,  than  mysell,  maun  be 
presidents  and  king's  advocates,  nae  doubt,  and  wha  but  they? 
Whereas,  were  favour  equally  distribute,  as  in  the  days  of 
the  wight  Wallace  " 

"  I  ken  naething  we  wad  hae  gotten  by  the  wight  Wallace, " 
said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  "  unless,  as  I  hae  heard  the  auld  folk 
tell,  they  fought  in  thae  days  wi'  bend-leather  guns,  and  then 
it's  a  chance  but  what,  if  he  had  bought  them,  he  might  have 
forgot  to  pay  for  them.  And  as  for  the  greatness  of  your 
parts,  Bartley,  the  folk  in  the  close-head  maun  ken  mair 
about  them  than  I  do,  if  they  make  sic  a  report  of  them." 

"  I  tell  ye,  woman,"  said  Saddletree,  in  high  dudgeon,  "  that 
ye  ken  naething  about  these  matters.  In  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace's days  there  was  nae  man  pinned  down  to  sic  a  slavish 
wark  as  a  saddler's,  for  they  got  ony  leather  graith  that  they 
had  use  for  ready-made  out  of  Holland." 


62 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Well, "  said  Butler,  who  was,  like  many  of  his  profession, 
something  of  a  humorist  and  dry  joker,  "  if  that  be  the  case, 
Mr.  Saddletree,  I  think  we  have  changed  for  the  better ;  since 
we  make  our  own  harness,  and  only  import  our  lawyers  from 
Holland." 

"It's  ower  true,  Mr.  Butler,"  answered  Bartoline,  with  a 
sigh ;  "  if  I  had  had  the  luck — or  rather,  if  my  father  had  had 
the  sense  to  send  me  to  Ley  den  and  Utrecht  to  learn  the  Sub- 
stitutes and  Pandex  " 

"  You  mean  the  Institutes — Justinian's  Institutes,  Mr.  Sad- 
dletree?" said  Butler. 

"Institutes  and  substitutes  are  synonymous  words,  Mr. 
Butler,  and  used  indifferently  as  such  in  deeds  of  tailzie,  as 
you  may  see  in  Balfour's  Practiques,  or  Dallas  of  St.  Martin's 
Styles.  I  understand^these  things  pretty  weel,  I  thank  God ; 
but  I  own  I  should  have  studied  in  Holland." 

"  To  comfort  you,  you  might  not  Jiave  been  farther  forward 
than  you  are  now,  Mr.  Saddletree, "  replied  Mr.  Butler ;  "  for 
our  Scottish  advocates  are  an  aristocratic  race.  Their  brass 
is  of  the  right  Corinthian  quality,  and  Non  cuivis  eontigit 
adire  Corinthum.    Aha,  Mr.  Saddletree!" 

"And  aha,  Mr.  Butler,"  rejoined  Bartoline,  upon  whom,  as 
may  be  well  supposed,  the  jest  was  lost,  and  all  but  the  sound 
of  the  words,  "ye  said  a  gliff  syne  it  was  quivisx  and  now  I 
heard  ye  say  cuivis  with  my  ain  ears,  as  plain  as  ever  I  heard 
a  word  at  the  fore-bar." 

"  Give  me  your  patience,  Mr.  Saddletree,  and  I'll  explain 
the  discrepancy  in  three  words,"  said  Butler,  as  pedantic  in 
his  own  department,  though  with  infinitely  more  judgment 
and  learning,  as  Bartoline  was  in  his  self-assumed  profession 
of  the  law.  "  Give  me  your  patience  for  a  moment.  You'll 
grant  that  the  nominative  case  is  that  by  which  a  person  or 
thing  is  nominated  or  designed,  and  which  may  be  called  the 
primary  case,  all  others  being  formed  from  it  by  alterations 
of  the  termination  in  the  learned  languages,  and  by  preposi- 
tions in  our  modern  Babylonian  jargons?  Y^ou'll  grant  me 
that,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Saddletree?" 

"  I  dinna  ken  whether  I  will  or  no — ad  avizandum,  ye  ken — 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


63 


naebody  should  be  in  a  hurry  to  make  admissions,  either  in 
point  of  law  or  in  point  of  fact,"  said  Saddletree,  looking,  or 
endeavouring  to  look,  as  if  he  understood  what  was  said. 

"  And  the  dative  case, 99  continued  Butler  

"I  ken  what  a  tutor  dative  is,"  said  Saddletree,  "readily 
enough. 99 

"  The  dative  case, "  resumed  the  grammarian,  "  is  that  in 
which  anything  is  given  or  assigned  as  properly  belonging  to 
a  person  or  thing.    You  cannot  deny  that,  I  am  sure." 

"I  am  sure  I'll  no  grant  it  though,"  said  Saddletree. 

"  Then,  what  the  deevil  d'ye  take  the  nominative  and  the 
dative  cases  to  be?"  said  Butler,  hastily,  and  surprised  at 
once  out  of  his  decency  of  expression  and  accuracy  of  pro- 
nunciation. 

"I'll  tell  you  that  at  leisure,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  Saddletree, 
with  a  very  knowing  look.  66  I'll  take  a  day  to  see  and  answer 
every  article  of  your  condescendence,  and  then  I'll  hold  you 
to  confess  or  deny,  as  accords." 

"Come,  come,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  said  his  wife,  "  we'll  haenae 
confessions  and  condescendences  here,  let  them  deal  in  thae 
sort  o'  wares  that  are  paid  for  them ;  they  suit  the  like  o'  us 
as  ill  as  a  demi-pique  saddle  would  set  a  draught  ox." 

"Aha!"  said  Mr.  Butler,  "  Optat  ephippia  bos  pig er,  nothing 
new  under  the  sun.  But  it  was  a  fair  hit  of  Mrs.  Saddletree, 
however. " 

"  And  it  wad  far  better  become  ye,  Mr.  Saddletree, "  con- 
tinued his  helpmate, "  since  ye  say  ye  hae  skeel  o'  the  law,  to 
try  if  ye  can  do  ony  thing  for  Efne  Deans,  puir  thing,  that's 
lying  up  in  the  tolbooth  yonder,  cauld,  and  hungry,  and  com- 
fortless. A  servant  lass  of  ours,  Mr.  Butler,  and  as  innocent 
a  lass,  to  my  thinking,  and  as  usefu'  in  the  chop.  When  Mr. 
Saddletree  gangs  out — and  ye're  aware  he's  seldom  at  hame 
when  there's  ony  o'  the  plea-houses  open — puir  Effie  used  to 
help  me  to  tumble  the  bundles  o'  barkened  leather  up  and  down, 
and  range  out  the  gudes,  and  suit  a' body's  humours.  And 
troth,  she  could  aye  please  the  customers  wi'  her  answers,  for 
she  was  aye  civil,  and  a  bonnier  lass  wasna  in  Auld  Reekie. 
And  when  folk  were  hasty  and  unreasonable,  she  could  serve 


64 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


them  better  than  me,  that  am  no  sae  young  as  I  hae  been,  Mr. 
Butler,  and  a  wee  bit  short  in  the  temper  into  the  bargain ; 
for  when  there's  ower  mony  folks  crying  on  me  at  anes,  and 
nane  but  ae  tongue  to  answer  them,  folk  maun  speak  hastily, 
or  they'll  ne'er  get  through  their  wark.  Sae  I  miss  Effie 
daily." 

"  De  die  in  diem, "  added  Saddletree. 

"I  think,"  said  Butler,  after  a  good  deal  of  hesitation,  "I 
have  seen  the  girl  in  the  shop,  a  modest-looking,  fair-haired 
girl?" 

"Ay,  ay,  that's  just  puir  Effie,"  said  her  mistress.  "How 
she  was  abandoned  to  hersell,  or  whether  she  was  sackless  o' 
the  sinfu'  deed,  God  in  Heaven  knows;  but  if  she's  been 
guilty,  she's  been  sair  tempted,  and  I  wad  amaist  take  my 
Bible  aith  she  hasna  been  hersell  at  the  time." 

Butler  had  by  this  time  become  much  agitated ;  he  fidgeted 
up  and  down  the  shop,  and  showed  the  greatest  agitation  that 
a  person  of  such  strict  decorum  could  be  supposed  to  give  way 
to.  "Was  not  this  girl,"  he  said,  "the  daughter  of  David 
Deans,  that  had  the  parks  at  St.  Leonard's  taken?  and  has 
she  not  a  sister?" 

"  In  troth  has  she — puir  Jeanie  Deans,  ten  years  aulder  than 
hersell;  she  was  here  greeting  a  wee  while  syne  about  her 
tittie.  And  what  could  I  say  to  her,  but  that  she  behoved 
to  come  and  speak  to  Mr.  Saddletree  when  he  was  at  hame? 
It  wasna  that  I  thought  Mr.  Saddletree  could  do  her  or  ony 
other  body  muckle  gude  or  ill,  but  it  wad  aye  serve  to  keep 
the  puir  thing's  heart  up  for  a  wee  while;  and  let  sorrow 
come  when  sorrow  maun." 

"  Ye're  mistaen  though,  gudewife,"  said  Saddletree,  scorn- 
fully, "for  I  could  hae  gien  her  great  satisfaction;  I  could 
hae  proved  to  her  that  her  sister  was  indicted  upon  the  statute 
1690,  chap.  1  [21] — for  the  mair  ready  prevention  of  child- 
murder,  for  concealing  her  pregnancy,  and  giving  no  account 
of  the  child  which  she  had  borne." 

"I  hope,"  said  Butler — "I  trust  in  a  gracious  God,  that  she 
can  clear  herself." 

"And  sae  do  I,  Mr.  Butler,"  replied  Mrs.  Saddletree.  "I 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


65 


am  sure  I  wad  liae  answered  for  her  as  my  ain  daughter ;  but, 
wae's  my  heart,  I  had  been  tender  a'  the  simmer,  and  scarce 
ower  the  door  o'  my  room  for  twal  weeks.  And  as  for  Mr. 
Saddletree,  he  might  be  in  a  lying-in  hospital,  and  ne'er  find 
out  what  the  women  cam  there  for.  Sae  I  could  see  little  or 
naething  o'  her,  or  I  wad  hae  had  the  truth  o'  her  situation 
out  o'  her,  I'se  warrant  ye.  But  we  a'  think  her  sister  maun 
be  able  to  speak  something  to  clear  her. " 

"The  haill  Parliament  House,"  said  Saddletree,  "was 
speaking  o'  naething  else,  till  this  job  o'  Porteous's  put  it  out 
o'  head.  It's  a  beautiful  point  of  presumptive  murder,  and 
there's  been  nane  like  it  in  the  Justiciar  Court  since  the 
case  of  Luckie  Smith,  the  howdie,  that  suffered  in  the  year 
1679." 

"But  what's  the  matter  wi'  you,  Mr.  Butler?"  said  the 
good  woman;  "ye  are  looking  as  white  as  a  sheet;  will  ye 
take  a  dram?" 

"  By  no  means, "  said  Butler,  compelling  himself  to  speak. 
"I  walked  in  from  Dumfries  yesterday,  and  this  is  a  warm 
day." 

"Sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  laying  hands  on  him 
kindly,  "and  rest  ye;  ye'U  kill  yoursell,  man,  at  that  rate. 
And  are  we  to  wish  you  joy  o'  getting  the  scule,  Mr.  Butler?" 

"Yes — no — I  do  not  know,"  answered  the  young  man, 
vaguely.  But  Mrs.  Saddletree  kept  him  to  the  point,  partly 
out  of  real  interest,  partly  from  curiosity. 

"  Ye  dinna  ken  whether  ye  are  to  get  the  free  scule  o'  Dum- 
fries or  no,  after  hinging  on  and  teaching  it  a'  the  simmer?" 

"  No,  Mrs.  Saddletree,  I  am  not  to  have  it, "  replied  Butler, 
more  collectedly.  "The  Laird  of  Black-at-the-Bane  had  a 
natural  son  bred  to  the  kirk,  that  the  presbytery  could  not  be 
prevailed  upon  to  license ;  and  so  " 

"  Ay,  ye  need  say  nae  mair  about  it ;  if  there  was  a  laird 
that  had  a  puir  kinsman  or  a  bastard  that  it  wad  suit,  there's 
eneugh  said.  And  ye're  e'en  come  back  to  Liberton  to  wait 
for  dead  men's  shoon?  and,  for  as  frail  as  Mr.  Whackbairn 
is,  he  may  live  as  lang  as  you,  that  are  his  assistant  and 
successor. " 

5 


06 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Very  like, "  replied  Butler,  with  a  sigh ;  "I  do  not  know 
if  I  should  wish  it  otherwise." 

"ISTae  doubt  it's  a  very  vexing  thing,"  continued  the  good 
lady,  "  to  be  in  that  dependent  station ;  and  you  that  hae  right 
and  title  to  sae  muckle  better,  I  wonder  how  ye  bear  these 
crosses." 

"  Quos  diligit  castigat,"  answered  Butler;  "  even  the  pagan 
Seneca  could  see  an  advantage  in  affliction.  The  heathens 
had  their  philosophy  and  the  Jews  their  revelation,  Mrs.  Sad- 
dletree, and  they  endured  their -distresses  in  their  day.  Chris- 
tians have  a  better  dispensation  than  either,  but  doubtless  " 

He  stopped  and  sighed. 

"I  ken  what  ye  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  looking 
towards  her  husband;  "there's  whiles  we  lose  patience 
in  spite  of  baith  book  and  Bible.  But  ye  are  no  gaun 
awa,  and  looking  sae  poorly;  ye'U  stay  and  take  some  kail 
wi'  us?" 

Mr.  Saddletree  laid  aside  Balfour's  Practiques  (his  favourite 
study,  and  much  good  may  it  do  him),  to  join  in  his  wife's 
hospitable  importunity.  But  the  teacher  declined  all  entreaty, 
and  took  his  leave  upon  the  spot. 

"There's  something  in  a'  this,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  look- 
ing after  him  as  he  walked  up  the  street.  "  I  wonder  what 
makes  Mr.  Butler  sae  distressed  about  Effie's  misfortune; 
there  was  nae  acquaintance  at  ween  them  that  ever  I  saw  or 
heard  of;  but  they  were  neighbours  when  David  Deans  was 
on  the  Laird  o'  Dumbiedikes'  land.  Mr.  Butler  wad  ken, her 
father,  or  some  o'  her  folk.  Get  up,  Mr.  Saddletree ;  ye  have 
set  yoursell  down  on  the  very  brecham  that  wants  stitching ; 
and  here's  little  Willie,  the  prentice.  Ye  little  rinthereout 
deil  that  ye  are,  what  takes  you  raking  through  the  gutters  to 
see  folk  hangit?  How  wad  ye  like  when  it  comes  to  be  your 
ain  chance,  as  I  winna  ensure  ye,  if  ye  dinna  mend  your  man- 
ners? And  what  are  ye  maundering  and  greeting  for,  as  if  a 
word  were  breaking  your  banes?  Gang  in  bye,  and  be  a  better 
bairn  another  time,  and  tell  Peggy  to  gie  ye  a  bicker  o'  broth, 
for  ye'll  be  as  gleg  as  a  gled,  I'se  warrant  ye.  It's  a  father- 
less bairn,  Mr.  Saddletree,  and  motherless,  whilk  in  some 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


67 


cases  may  be  waur,  and  ane  would  take  care  o'  him  if  they 
could;  it's  a  Christian  duty." 

"Very  true,  gudewife,"  said  Saddletree,  in  reply,  "we  are 
in  loco  parentis  to  him  during  his  years  of  pupillarity,  and 
I  hae  had  thoughts,  of  applying  to  the  court  for  a  commission 
as  factor  loco  tutoris,  seeing  there  is  nae  tutor  nominate,  and 
the  tutor-at-law  declines  to  act;  but  only  I  fear  the  expense 
of  the  procedure  wad  not  be  in  rem  versam ;  for  I  am  not 
aware  if  Willie  has  ony  effects  whereof  to  assume  the  admin- 
istration. " 

He  concluded  this  sentence  with  a  self-important  cough,  as 
one  who  has  laid  down  the  law  in  an  indisputable  manner. 

"Effects!"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  "what  effects  has  the  puir 
wean?  He  was  in  rags  when  his  mother  died;  and  the  blue 
polonie  that  Eme  made  for  him  out  of  an  auld  mantle  of  my 
ain  was  the  first  decent  dress  the  bairn  ever  had  on.  Puir 
Efne !  can  ye  tell  me  now  really,  wi'  a'  your  law,  will  her  life 
be  in  danger,  Mr.  Saddletree,  when  they  arena  able  to  prove 
that  ever  there  was  a  bairn  ava?" 

"  Whoy, "  said  Mr.  Saddletree,  delighted  at  having  for  once 
in  his  life  seen  his  wife's  attention  arrested  by  a  topic  of  legal 
discussion — "  whoy,  there  are  two  sorts  of  murdrum,  or  mur- 
dragium,  or  what  you  populariter  et  vulgariter  call  murther. 
I  mean  there  are  many  sorts;  for  there's  your  murthrum per 
vigilias  et  insidias  and  your  murthrum  under  trust." 

"  I  am  sure, "  replied  his  moiety,  "  that  murther  by  trust  is 
the  way  that  the  gentry  murther  us  merchants,  and  whiles 
make  us  shut  the  booth  up ;  but  that  has  naething  to  do  wi' 
Effle's  misfortune." 

"  The  case  of  Effie — or  Euphemia — Deans, "  resumed  Sad- 
dletree, "  is  one  of  those  cases  of  murder  presumptive,  that  is, 
a  murder  of  the  law's  inferring  or  construction,  being  derived 
from  certain  indicia  or  grounds  of  suspicion." 

"So  that,"  said  the  good  woman,  "unless  puir  Effie  has 
communicated  her  situation,  she'll  be  hanged  by  the  neck,  if 
the  bairn  was  still-born,  or  if  it  be  alive  at  this  moment?" 

"  Assuredly, "  said  Saddletree,  "  it  being  a  statute  made  by 
our  sovereign  Lord  and  Lady  to  prevent  the  horrid  delict  of 


68 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


bringing  forth  children  in  secret.  The  crime  is  rather  a 
favourite  of  the  law,  this  species  of  murther  being  one  of  its 
ain  creation. 99  1 

"Then,  if  the  law  makes  murders,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree, 
"  the  law  should  be  hanged  for  them ;  or  if  they  wad  hang  a 
lawyer  instead,  the  country  wad  find  nae  faut." 

A  summons  to  their  frugal  dinner  interrupted  the  further 
progress  of  the  conversation,  which  was  otherwise  like  to  take 
a  turn  much  less  favourable  to  the  science  of  jurisprudence  and 
its  professors  than  Mr.  Bartoline  Saddletree,  the  fond  admirer 
of  both,  had  at  its  opening  anticipated. . 


CHAPTER  VI. 

But  up  then  raise  all  Edinburgh, 
They  all  rose  up  by  thousands  three. 

Johnie  Armstrong' s  Goodnight. 

Butler,  on  his  departure  from  the  sign  of  the  Golden  Nag, 
went  in  quest  of  a  friend  of  his  connected  with  the  law,  of 
whom  he  wished  to  make  particular  inquiries  concerning  the 
circumstances  in  which  the  unfortunate  young  woman  men- 
tioned in  the  last  chapter  was  placed,  having,  as  the  reader 
has  probably  already  conjectured,  reasons  much  deeper  than 
those  dictated  by  mere  humanity  for  interesting  himself  in  her 
fate.  He  found  the  person  he  sought  absent  from  home,  and 
was  equally  unfortunate  in  one  or  two  other  calls  which  he 
made  upon  acquaintances  whom  he  hoped  to  interest  in  her 
story.  But  everybody  was,  for  the  moment,  stark  mad  on  the 
subject  of  Porteous,  and  engaged  busily  in  attacking  or  de- 
fending the  measures  of  government  in  reprieving  him;  and 
the  ardour  of  dispute  had  excited  such  universal  thirst  that 
half  the  young  lawyers  and  writers,  together  with  their  very 
clerks,  the  class  whom  Butler  was  looking  after,  had  adjourned 
the  debate  to  some  favourite  tavern.  It  was  computed  by  an 
experienced  arithmetician  that  there  was  as  much  twopenny 

i  See  Law  relating  to  Child-Murder,   Note  7, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


69 


ale  consumed  on  the  discussion  as  would  have  floated  a  first- 
rate  man-of-war. 

Butler  wandered  about  until  it  was  dusk,  resolving  to  take 
that  opportunity  of  visiting  the  unfortunate  young  woman, 
when  his  doing  so  might  be  least  observed;  for  he  had  his  own 
reasons  for  avoiding  the  remarks  of  Mrs.  Saddletree,  whose 
shop-door  opened  at  no  great  distance  from  that  of  the  jail, 
though  on  the  opposite  or  south  side  of  the  street,  and  a  little 
higher  up.  He  passed,  therefore,  through  the  narrow  and 
partly  covered  passage  leading  from  the  northwest  end  of  the 
Parliament  Square. 

He  stood  now  before  the  Gothic  entrance  of  the  ancient 
prison,  which,  as  is  well  known  to  all  men,  rears  its  ancient 
front  in  the  very  middle  of  the  High  Street,  forming,  as  it 
were,  the  termination  to  a  huge  pile  of  buildings  called  the 
Luckenbooths,  which,  for  some  inconceivable  reason,  our  an- 
cestors had  jammed  into  the  midst  of  the  principal  street  of 
the  town,  leaving  for  passage  a  narrow  street  on  the  north, 
and  on  the  south,  into  which  the  prison  opens,  a  narrow 
crooked  lane,  winding  betwixt  the  high  and  sombre  walls  of 
the  tolbooth  and  the  adjacent  houses  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
buttresses  and  projections  of  the  old  Cathedral  upon  the  other. 
To  give  some  gaiety  to  this  sombre  passage,  well  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Krames,  a  number  of  little  booths  or  shops,  after 
the  fashion  of  cobblers'  stalls,  are  plastered,  as  it  were,  against 
the  Gothic  projections  and  abutments,  so  that  it  seemed  as  if 
the  traders  had  occupied  with  nests,  bearing  the  same  propor- 
tion to  the  building,  every  buttress  and  coign  of  vantage,  as 
the  martlet  did  in  Macbeth' s  castle.  Of  later  years  these 
booths  have  degenerated  into  mere  toy-shops,  where  the  little 
loiterers  chiefly  interested  in  such  wares  are  tempted  to  linger, 
enchanted  by  the  rich  display  of  hobby-horses,  babies,  and 
Dutch  toys,  arranged  in  artful  and  gay  confusion;  yet  half- 
scared  by  the  cross  looks  of  the  withered  pantaloon,  or  spec- 
tacled old  lady,  by  whom  these  tempting  stores  are  watched 
and  superintended.  But  in  the  times  we  write  of  the 
hosiers,  the  glovers,  the  hatters,  the  mercers,  the  mil- 
liners, and  all  who  dealt  in  the  miscellaneous  wares  now 


70 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


termed  haberdashers'  goods,  were  to  be  found  in  this  nar- 
row alley. 

To  return  from  our  digression.  Butler  found  the  outer 
turnkey,  a  tall,  thin  old  man,  with  long  silver  hair,  in  the 
act  of  locking  the  outward  door  of  the  jail.  He  addressed 
himself  to  this  person,  and  asked  admittance  to  Effie  Deans, 
confined  upon  accusation  of  child-murder.  The  turnkey  looked 
at  him  earnestly,  and,  civilly  touching  his  hat  out  of  respect 
to  Butler's  black  coat  and  clerical  appearance,  replied:  "It 
was  impossible  any  one  could  be  admitted  at  present." 

"  You  shut  up  earlier  than  usual,  probably  on  account  of 
Captain  Porteous's  affair?"  said  Butler. 

The  turnkey,  with  the  true  mystery  of  a  person  in  office, 
gave  two  grave  nods,  and  withdrawing  from  the  wards  a  pon- 
derous key  of  about  two  feet  in  length,  he  proceeded  to  shut 
a  strong  plate  of  steel  which  folded  down  above  the  keyhole, 
and  was  secured  by  a  steel  spring  and  catch.  Butler  stood 
still  instinctively  while  the  door  was  made  fast,  and  then 
looking  at  his  watch,  walked  briskly  up  the  street,  muttering 
to  himself  almost  unconsciously : 

Porta  adversa,  ingens,  solidoque  adamante  columnge ; 
Vis  ut  nulla  virum,  non  ipsi  exscindere  ferro 
Ccelicolse  valeant.    Stat  ferrea  turris  ad  auras,  etc.1 

Having  wasted  half  an  hour  more  in  a  second  fruitless  at- 
tempt to  find  his  legal  friend  and  adviser,  he  thought  it  time 
to  leave  the  city  and  return  to  his  place  of  residence  in  a  small 
village  about  two  miles  and  a  half  to  the  southward  of  Edin- 
burgh. The  metropolis  was  at  this  time  surrounded  by  a  high 
wall,  with  battlements  and  flanking  projections  at  some  inter- 
vals, and  the  access  was  through  gates,  called  in  the  Scottish 
language  "ports,"  which  were  regularly  shut  at  night.  A 
small  fee  to  the  keepers  would  indeed  procure  egress  and  in- 
gress at  any  time,  through  a  wicket  left  for  that  purpose  in 
the  large  gate,  but  it  was  of  some  importance  to  a  man  so  poor 
as  Butler  to  avoid  even  this- slight  pecuniary  mulct;  and  fear- 
ing the  hour  of  shutting  the  gates  might  be  near,  he  made  for 


1  See  Translation.   Note  8. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 

that  to  which  he  found  himself  nearest,  although  by  doing 
he  somewhat  lengthened  his  walk  homewards.  Bristo  Port 
was  that  by  which  his  direct  road  lay,  but  the  West  Port, 
which  leads  out  of  the  Grassmarket,  was  the  nearest  of  the 
city  gates  to  the  place  where  he  found  himself,  and  to  that, 
therefore,  he  directed  his  course. 

He  reached  the  port  in  ample  time  to  pass  the  circuit  of  the 
walls,  and  enter  a  suburb  called  Portsburgh,  chiefly  inhabited 
by  the  lower  order  of  citizens  and  mechanics.  Here  he  was 
unexpectedly  interrupted.  He  had  not  gone  far  from  the  gate 
before  he  heard  the  sound  of  a  drum,  and,  to  his  great  sur- 
prise, met  a  number  of  persons,  sufficient  to  occupy  the  whole 
front  of  the  street,  and  form  a  considerable  mass  behind,  mov- 
ing with  great  speed  towards  the  gate  he  had  just  come  from, 
and  having  in  front  of  them  a  drum  beating  to  arms.  While 
he  considered  how  he  should  escape  a  party  assembled,  as  it 
might  be  presumed,  for  no  lawful  purpose,  they  came  full  on 
him  and  stopped  him. 

"  Are  you  a  clergyman?"  one  questioned  him. 

Butler  replied  that  "  he  was  in  orders,  but  was  not  a  placed 
minister." 

"It's  Mr.  Butler  from  Liberton,"  said  a  voice  from  behind; 
"he'll  discharge  the  duty  as  weel  as  ony  man." 

"  You  must  turn  back  with  us,  sir,"  said  the  first  speaker, 
in  a  tone  civil  but  peremptory. 

"For  what  purpose,  gentlemen?"  said  Mr.  Butler.  "I  live 
at  some  distance  from  town;  the  roads  are  unsafe  by  night; 
you  will  do  me  a  serious  injury  by  stopping  me." 

a  You  shall  be  sent  safely  home,  no  man  shall  touch  a  hair 
of  your  head ;  but  you  must  and  shall  come  along  with  us. " 

"But  to  what  purpose  or  end,  gentlemen?"  said  Butler. 
"  I  hope  you  will  be  so  civil  as  to  explain  that  to  me?" 

"  You  shall  know  that  in  good  time.  Come  along,  for  come 
you  must,  by  force  or  fair  means ;  and  I  warn  you  to  look 
neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  the  left,  and  to  take  no  notice  of 
any  man's  face,  but  consider  all  that  is  passing  before  you  as 
a  dream." 

•;  I  would  it  were  a  dream  I  could  awaken  from,"  said  Butler 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


o  himself ;  but  having  no  means  to  oppose  the  violence  with 
which  he  was  threatened,  he  was  compelled  to  turn  round  and 
march  in  front  of  the  rioters,  two  men  partly  supporting  and 
partly  holding  him.  During  this  parley  the  insurgents  had 
made  themselves  masters  of  the  West  Port,  rushing  upon  the 
waiters  (so  the  people  were  called  who  had  the  charge  of  the 
gates),  and  possessing  themselves  of  the  keys.  They  bolted 
and  barred  the  folding  doors,  and  commanded  the  person 
whose  duty  it  usually  was  to  secure  the  wicket,  of  which  they 
did  not  understand  the  fastenings.  The  man,  terrified  at  an 
incident  so  totally  unexpected,  was  unable  to  perform  his 
usual  office,  and  gave  the  matter  up,  after  several  attempts. 
The  rioters,  who  seemed  to  have  come  prepared  for  every 
emergency,  called  for  torches,  by  the  light  of  which  they 
nailed  up  the  wicket  with  long  nails,  which,  it  appeared  prob- 
able, they  had  provided  on  purpose. 

While  this  was  going  on,  Butler  could  not,  even  if  he  had 
been  willing,  avoid  making  remarks  on  the  individuals  who 
seemed  to  lead  this  singular  mob.  The  torch-light,  while  it 
fell  on  their  forms  and  left  him  in  the  shade,  gave  him  an  op- 
portunity to  do  so  without  their  observing  him.  Several  of 
those  who  appeared  most  active  were  dressed  in  sailors' 
jackets,  trowsers,  and  sea-caps;  others  in  large  loose-bodied 
greatcoats  and  slouched  hats;  and  there  were  several  who, 
judging  from  their  dress,  should  have  been  called  women, 
whose  rough  deep  voices,  uncommon  size,  and  masculine 
deportment  and  mode  of  walking,  forbade  them  being  so 
interpreted.  They  moved  as  if  by  some  well-concerted 
plan  of  arrangement.  They  had  signals  by  which  they 
knew,  and  nicknames  by  which  they  distinguished,  each 
other.  Butler  remarked  that  the  name  of  Wildfire  was 
used  among  them,  to  which  one  stout  amazon  seemed  to 
reply. 

The  rioters  left  a  small  party  to  observe  the  West  Port,  and 
directed  the  waiters,  as  they  valued  their  lives,  to  remain 
within  their  lodge,  and  make  no  attempt  for  that  night  to  re- 
possess themselves  of  the  gate.  They  then  moved  with 
rapidity  along  the  low  street  called  the  Cowgate,  the  mob  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


73 


the  city  everywhere  rising  at  the  sound  of  their  drum  and 
joining  them.  When  the  multitude  arrived  at  the  Cowgate 
Port,  they  secured  it  with  as  little  opposition  as  the  former, 
made  it  fast,  and  left  a  small  party  to  observe  it.  It  was 
afterwards  remarked  as  a  striking  instance  of  prudence  and 
precaution,  singularly  combined  with  audacity,  that  the  par- 
ties left  to  guard  those  gates  did  not  remain  stationary  on 
their  posts,  but  flitted  to  and  fro,  keeping  so  near  the  gates  as 
to  see  that  no  efforts  were  made  to  open  them,  yet  not  remain- 
ing so  long  as  to  have  their  persons  closely  observed.  The 
mob,  at  first  only  about  one  hundred  strong,  now  amounted  to 
thousands,  and  were  increasing  every  moment.  They  divided 
themselves  so  as  to  ascend  with  more  speed  the  various  narrow 
lanes  which  lead  up  from  the  Cowgate  to  the  High  Street ; 
and  still  beating  to  arms  as  they  went,  and  calling  on  all  true 
Scotsmen  to  join  them,  they  now  filled  the  principal  street  of 
the  city. 

The  Netherbow  Port  might  be  called  the  Temple  Bar  of 
Edinburgh,  as,  intersecting  the  High  Street  at  its  termination, 
it  divided  Edinburgh,  properly  so  called,  from  the  suburb 
named  the  Canongate,  as  Temple  Bar  separates  London  from 
Westminster.  It  was  of  the  utmost  importance  to  the  rioters 
to  possess  themselves  of  this  pass,  because  there  was  quartered 
in  the  Canongate  at  that  time  a  regiment  of  infantry,  com- 
manded by  Colonel  Moyle,  which  might  have  occupied  the  city 
by  advancing  through  this  gate,  and  would  possess  the  power 
of  totally  defeating  their  purpose.  '  The  leaders  therefore 
hastened  to  the  Netherbow  Port,  which  they  secured  in  the 
same  manner,  and  with  as  little  trouble,  as  the  other  gates, 
leaving  a  party  to  watch  it,  strong  in  proportion  to  the  im- 
portance of  the  post. 

The  next  object  of  these  hardy  insurgents  was  at  once  to 
disarm  the  City  Guard  and  to  procure  arms  for  themselves ; 
for  scarce  any  weapons  but  staves  and  bludgeons  had  been  yet 
seen  among  them.  The  guard-house  was  a  long,  low,  ugly 
building  (removed  in  1787),  which  to  a  fanciful  imagination 
might  have  suggested  the  idea  of  a  long  black  snail  crawling 
up  the  middle  of  the  High  Street,  and  deforming  its  beautiful 


74 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


esplanade.  This  formidable  insurrection  had  been  so  unex- 
pected that  there  were  no  more  than  the  ordinary  sergeant's 
guard  of  the  city  cotrps  upon  duty ;  even  these  were  without 
any  supply  of  powder  and  ball ;  and  sensible  enough  what  had 
raised  the  storm,  and  which  way  it  was  rolling,  could  hardly 
be  supposed  very  desirous  to  expose  themselves  by  a  valiant 
defence  to  the  animosity  of  so  numerous  and  desperate  a  mob, 
to  whom  they  were  on  the  present  occasion  much  more  than 
usually  obnoxious. 

There  was  a  sentinel  upon  guard  who,  that  one  town-guard 
soldier  might  do  his  duty  on  that  eventful  evening,  presented 
his  piece,  and  desired  the  foremost  of  the  rioters  to  stand  off. 
The  young  amazon,  whom  Butler  had  observed  particularly 
active,  sprung  upon  the  soldier,  seized  his  musket,  and  after 
a  struggle  succeeded  in  wrenching  it  from  him,  and  throwing 
him  down  on  the  causeway.  One  or  two  soldiers,  who  en- 
deavoured to  turn  out  to  the  support  of  their  sentinel,  were  in 
the  same  manner  seized  and  disarmed,  and  the  mob  without 
difficulty  possessed  themselves  of  the  guard-house,  disarming 
and  turning  out  of  doors  the  rest  of  the  men  on  duty.  It  was 
remarked  that,  notwithstanding  the  city  soldiers  had  been  the 
instruments  of  the  slaughter  which  this  riot  was  designed  to 
revenge,  no  ill-usage  or  even  insult  was  offered  to  them.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  vengeance  of  the  people  disdained  to  stoop 
at  any  head  meaner  than  that  which  they  considered  as  the 
source  and  origin  of  their  injuries. 

On  possessing  themselves  of  the  guard,  the  first  act  of  the 
multitude  was  to  destroy  the  drums,  by  which  they  supposed 
an  alarm  might  be  conveyed  to  the  garrison  in  the  Castle ;  for 
the  same  reason  they  now  silenced  their  own,  which  was  beaten 
by  a  young  fellow,  son  to  the  drummer  of  Portsburgh,  whom 
they  had  forced  upon  that  service.  Their  next  business  was 
to  distribute  among  the  boldest  of  the  rioters  the  guns,  bayo- 
nets, partizans,  halberds,  and  battle  or  Lochaber  axes.  Until 
this  period  the  principal  rioters  had  preserved  silence  on  the 
ultimate  object  of  their  rising,  as  being  that  which  all  knew, 
but  none  expressed.  Now,  however,  having  accomplished  all 
the  preliminary  parts  of  their  design,  they  raised  a  tremendous 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  75 

shout  of  "Porteous!  Porteous!  To  the  tolbooth!  To  the 
tolbooth!" 

They  proceeded  with  the  same  prudence  when  the  object 
seemed  to  be  nearly  in  their  grasp  as  they  had  done  hitherto 
when  success  was  more  dubious.  A  strong  party  of  the  rioters, 
drawn  up  in  front  of  the  Luckenbooths,  and  facing  down  the 
street,  prevented  all  access  from  the  eastward,  and  the  west 
end  of  the  defile  formed  by  the  Luckenbooths  was  secured  in 
the  same  manner ;  so  that  the  tolbooth  was  completely  sur- 
rounded, and  those  who  undertook  the  task  of  breaking  it  open 
effectually  secured  against  the  risk  of  interruption. 

The  magistrates,  in  the  mean  while,  had  taken  the  alarm, 
and  assembled  in  a  tavern,  with  the  purpose  of  raising  some 
strength  to  subdue  the  rioters.  The  deacons,  or  presidents  of 
the  trades,  were  applied  to,  but  declared  there  was  little 
chance  of  their  authority  being  respected  by  the  craftsmen, 
where  it  was  the  object  to  save  a  man  so  obnoxious.  Mr. 
Lindsay,  member  of  parliament  for  the  city,  volunteered  the 
perilous  task  of  carrying  a  verbal  message  from  the  Lord  Pro- 
vost to  Colonel  Moyle,  the  commander  of  the  regiment  lying 
in  the  Canongate,  requesting  him  to  force  the  Netherbow  Port, 
and  enter  the  city  to  put  down  the  tumult.  But  Mr.  Lindsay 
declined  to  charge  himself  with  any  written  order,  which,  if 
found  on  his  person  by  an  enraged  mob,  might  have  cost  him 
his  life ;  and  the  issue  of  the  application  was,  that  Colonel 
Moyle,  having  no  written  requisition  from  the  civil  authori- 
ties, and  having  the  fate  of  Porteous  before  his  eyes  as  an  ex- 
ample of  the  severe  construction  put  by  a  jury  on  the  proceed- 
ings of  military  men  acting  on  their  own  responsibility, 
declined  to  encounter  the  risk  to  which  the  Provost's  verbal 
communication  invited  him. 

More  than  one  messenger  was  despatched  by  different  ways 
to  the  Castle,  to  require  the  commanding  officer  to  march  down 
his  troops,  to  fire  a  few  cannon-shot,  or  even  to  throw  a  shell 
among  the  mob,  for  the  purpose  of  clearing  the  streets.  But 
so  strict  and  watchful  were  the  various  patrols  whom  the 
rioters  had  established  in  different  parts  of  the  street,  that 
none  of  the  emissaries  of  the  magistrates  could  reach  the  gate 


76 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  the  Castle.  They  were,  however,  turned  back  without 
either  injury  or  insult,  and  with  nothing  more  of  menace  than 
was  necessary  to  deter  them  from  again  attempting  to  accom- 
plish their  errand. 

The  same  vigilance  was  used  to  prevent  everybody  of  the 
higher,  and  those  which,  in  this  case,  might  be  deemed  the 
more  suspicious,  orders  of  society  from  appearing  in  the  street, 
and  observing  the  movements,  or  distinguishing  the  persons, 
of  the  rioters.  Every  person  in  the  garb  of  a  gentleman  was 
stopped  by  small  parties  of  two  or  three  of  the  mob,  who 
partly  exhorted,  partly  required  of  them,  that  they  should 
return  to  the  place  from  whence  they  came.  Many  a  quadrille 
table  was  spoiled  that  memorable  evening ;  for  the  sedan-chairs 
of  ladies,  even  of  the  highest  rank,  were  interrupted  in  their 
passage  from  one  point  to  another,  in  despite  of  the  laced  foot- 
men and  blazing  flambeaux.  This  was  uniformly  done  with  a 
deference  and  attention  to  the  feelings  of  the  terrified  females 
which  could  hardly  have  been  expected  from  the  videttes  of  a 
mob  so  desperate.  Those  who  stopped  the  chair  usually  made 
the  excuse  that  there  was  much  disturbance  on  the  streets,  and 
that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for  the  lady's  safety  that  the 
chair  should  turn  back.  They  offered  themselves  to  escort 
the  vehicles  which  they  had  thus  interrupted  in  their  progress, 
from  the  apprehension,  probably,  that  some  of  those  who  had 
casually  united  themselves  to  the  riot  might  disgrace  their 
systematic  and  determined  plan  of  vengeance,  by  those  acts 
of  general  insult  and  license  which  are  common  on  similar 
occasions. 

Persons  are  yet  living  who  remember  to  have  heard  from 
the  mouths  of  ladies  thus  interrupted  on  their  journey  in  the 
manner  we  have  described,  that  they  were  escorted  to  their 
lodgings  by  the  young  men  who  stopped  them,  and  even 
handed  out  of  their  chairs,  with  a  polite  attention  far  beyond 
what  was  consistent  with  their  dress,  which  was  apparently 
that  of  journeymen  mechanics. 1  It  seemed  as  if  the  conspira- 
tors, like  those  who  assassinated  the  Cardinal  Beatoun  in 
former  days,  had  entertained  the  opinion  that  the  work  about 
i  See  Note  9. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


77 


which  they  went  was  a  judgment  of  Heaven,  which,  though 
unsanctioned  by  the  usual  authorities,  ought  to  be  proceeded 
in  with  order  and  gravity. 

While  their  outposts  continued  thus  vigilant,  and  suffered 
themselves  neither  from  fear  nor  curiosity  to  neglect  that  part 
of  the  duty  assigned  to  them,  and  while  the  main  guards  to 
the  east  and  west  secured  them  against  interruption,  a  select 
body  of  the  rioters  thundered  at  the  door  of  the  jail,  and  de- 
manded instant  admission.  No  one  answered,  for  the  outer 
keeper  had  prudently  made  his  escape  with  the  keys  at  the 
commencement  of  the  riot,  and  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 
The  door  was  instantly  assailed  with  sledge-hammers,  iron 
crows,  and  the  coulters  of  ploughs,  ready  provided  for  the 
purpose,  with  which  they  prized,  heaved,  and  battered  for 
some  time  with  little  effect ;  for,  being  of  double  oak  planks, 
clenched,  both  end-long  and  athwart,  with  broad-headed  nails, 
the  door  was  so  hung  and  secured  as  to  yield  to  no  means  of 
forcing,  without  the  expenditure  of  much  time.  The  rioters, 
however,  appeared  determined  to  gain  admittance.  Gang 
after  gang  relieved  each  other  at  the  exercise,  for,  of  course, 
only  a  few  could  work  at  a  time ;  but  gang  after  gang  retired, 
exhausted  with  their  violent  exertions,  without  making  much 
progress  in  forcing  the  prison  door.  Butler  had  been  led  up 
near  to  this  the  principal  scene  of  action ;  so  near,  indeed, 
that  he  was  almost  deafened  by  the  unceasing  clang  of  the 
heavy  fore-hammers  against  the  iron-bound  portals  of  the 
prison.  He  began  to  entertain  hopes,  as  the  task  seemed  pro- 
tracted, that  the  populace  might  give  it  over  in  despair,  or 
that  some  rescue  might  arrive  to  disperse  them.  There  was 
a  moment  at  which  the  latter  seemed  probable. 

The  magistrates,  having  assembled  their  officers  and  some 
of  the  citizens  who  were  willing  to  hazard  themselves  for  the 
public  tranquillity,  now  sallied  forth  from  the  tavern  where 
they  held  their  sitting,  and  approached  the  point  of  danger. 
Their  officers  went  before  them  with  links  and  torches,  with  a 
herald  to  read  the  Riot  Act,  if  necessary.  They  easily  drove 
before  them  the  outposts  and  videttes  of  the  rioters ;  but  when 
they  approached  the  line  of  guard  which  the  mob,  or  rather, 


78 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


we  should  say,  the  conspirators,  had  drawn  across  the  street 
in  the  front  of  the  Luckenbooths,  they  were  received  with  an 
unintermitted  volley  of  stones,  and,  on  their  nearer  approach, 
the  pikes,  bayonets,  and  Lochaber  axes  of  which  the  populace 
had  possessed  themselves  were  presented  against  them.  One 
of  their  ordinary  officers,  a  strong  resolute  fellow,  went  for- 
ward, seized  a  rioter,  and  took  from  him  a  musket;  but,  being 
unsupported,  he  was  instantly  thrown  on  his  back  in  the 
street,  and  disarmed  in  his  turn.  The  officer  was  too  happy 
to  be  permitted  to  rise  and  run  away  without  receiving  any 
farther  injury ;  which  afforded  another  remarkable  instance  of 
the  mode  in  which  these  men  had  united  a  sort  of  moderation 
towards  all  others  with  the  most  inflexible  inveteracy  against 
the  object  of  their  resentment.  The  magistrates,  after  vain 
attempts  to  make  themselves  heard  and  obeyed,  possessing 
no  means  of  enforcing  their  authority,  were  constrained  to 
abandon  the  field  to  the  rioters,  and  retreat  in  all  speed  from 
the  showers  of  missiles  that  whistled  around  their  ears. 

The  passive  resistance  of  the  tolbooth  gate  promised  to  do 
more  to  baffle  the  purpose  of  the  mob  than  the  active  inter- 
ference of  the  magistrates.  The  heavy  sledge-hammers  con- 
tinued to  din  against  it  without  intermission,  and  with  a  noise 
which,  echoed  from  the  lofty  buildings  around  the  spot,  seemed 
enough  to  have  alarmed  the  garrison  in  the  Castle.  It  was 
circulated  among  the  rioters  that  the  troops  would  march  down 
to  disperse  them,  unless  they  could  execute  their  purpose 
without  loss  of  time;  or  that,  even  without  quitting  the  for- 
tress, the  garrison  might  obtain  the  same  end  by  throwing  a 
bomb  or  two  upon  the  street. 

Urged  by  such  motives  for  apprehension,  they  eagerly 
relieved  each  other  at  the  labour  of  assailing  the  tolbooth 
door ;  yet  such  was  its  strength  that  it  still  defied  their  efforts. 
At  length  a  voice  was  heard  to  pronounce  the  words,  "  Try  it 
with  fire."  The  rioters,  with  an  unanimous  shout,  called  for 
combustibles,  and  as  all  their  wishes  seemed  to  be  instantly 
supplied,  they  were  soon  in  possession  of  two  or  three  empty 
tar-barrels.  A  huge  red  glaring  bonfire  speedily  arose  close 
to  the  door  of  the  prison,  sending  up  a  tall  column  of  smoke 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


79 


and  flame  against  its  antique  turrets  and  strongly-grated 
windows,  and  illuminating  the  ferocious  and  wild  gestures  of 
the  rioters  who  surrounded  the  place,  as  well  as  the  pale  and 
anxious  groups  of  those  who,  from  windows  in  the  vicinage, 
watched  the  progress  of  this  alarming  scene.  The  mob  fed 
the  fire  with  whatever  they  could  find  fit  for  the' purpose. 
The  flames  roared  and  crackled  among  the  heaps  of  nourish- 
ment piled  on  the  fire,  and  a  terrible  shout  soon  announced 
that  the  door  had  kindled,  and  was  in  the  act  of  being  de- 
stroyed. The  fire  was  suffered  to  decay,  but  long  ere  it  was 
quite  extinguished  the  most  forward  of  the  rioters  rushed,  in 
their  impatience,  one  after  another,  over  its  yet  smouldering 
remains.  Thick  showers  of  sparkles  rose  high  in  the  air  as 
man  after  man  bounded  over  the  glowing  embers  and  disturbed 
them  in  their  passage.  It  was  now  obvious  to  Butler  and  all 
others  who  were  present  that  the  rioters  would  be  instantly  in 
possession  of  their  victim,  and  have  it  in  their  power  to  work 
their  pleasure  upon  him,  whatever  that  might  be.1 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  evil  you  teach  us,  we  will  execute  ;  and  it  shall  go  hard  but  we 
will  better  the  instruction. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

The  unhappy  object  of  this  remarkable  disturbance  had 
been  that  day  delivered  from  the  apprehension  of  a  public 
execution,  and  his  joy  was  the  greater  as  he  had  some  reason 
to  question  whether  government  would  have  run  the  risk  of 
unpopularity  by  interfering  in  his  favour,  after  he  had  been 
legally  convicted,  by  the  verdict  of  a  jury,  of  a  crime  so  very 
obnoxious.  Eelieved  from  this  doubtful  state  of  mind,  his 
heart  was  merry  within  him,  and  he  thought,  in  the  emphatic 
words  of  Scripture  on  a  similar  occasion,  that  surely  the  bit- 
terness of  death  was  past.  Some  of  his  friends,  however,  who 
had  watched  the  manner  and  behaviour  of  the  crowd  when  they 
were  made  acquainted  with  the  reprieve,  were  of  a  different 
i  See  The  Old  Tolbooth.   Note  10. 


80 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


opinion.  They  augured,  from  the  unusual  sternness  and 
silence  with  which  they  bore  their  disappointment,  that  the 
populace  nourished  some  scheme  of  sudden  and  desperate  ven- 
geance ;  and  they  advised  Porteous  to  lose  no  time  in  petition- 
ing the  proper  authorities  that  he  might  be  conveyed  to  the 
Castle  under  a  sufficient  guard,  to  remain  there  in  security 
until  his  ultimate  fate  should  be  determined.  Habituated, 
however,  by  his  office  to  overawe  the  rabble  of  the  city,  Por- 
teous could  not  suspect  them  of  an  attempt  so  audacious  as  to 
storm  a  strong  and  defensible  prison ;  and,  despising  the  ad- 
vice by  which  he  might  have  been  saved,  he  spent  the  after- 
noon of  the  eventful  day  in  giving  an  entertainment  to  some 
friends  who  visited  him  in  jail,  several  of  whom,  by  the  in- 
dulgence of  the  captain  of  the  tolbooth,  with  whom  he  had  an 
old  intimacy,  arising  from  their  official  connexion,  were  even 
permitted  to  remain  to  supper  with  him,  though  contrary  to 
the  rules  of  the  jail. 

It  was,  therefore,  in  the  hour  of  unalloyed  mirth,  when  this 
unfortunate  wretch  was  "full  of  bread,"  hot  with  wine,  and 
high  in  mistimed  and  ill-grounded  confidence,  and,  alas !  with 
all  his  sins  full  blown  when  the  first  distant  shouts  of  the 
rioters  mingled  with  the  song  of  merriment  and  intemperance. 
The  hurried  call  of  the  jailor  to  the  guests,  requiring  them  in- 
stantly to  depart,  and  his  yet  more  hasty  intimation  that  a 
dreadful  and  determined  mob  had  possessed  themselves  of  the 
city  gates  and  guard-house,  were  the  first  explanation  of  these 
fearful  clamours. 

Porteous  might,  however,  have  eluded  the  fury  from  which 
the  force  of  authority  could  not  protect  him,  had  he  thought 
of  slipping  on  some  disguise  and  leaving  the  prison  along  with 
his  guests.  It  is  probable  that  the  jailor  might  have  connived 
at  his  escape,  or  even  that,  in  the  hurry  of  this  alarming  con- 
tingency, he  might  not  have  observed  it.  But  Porteous  and 
his  friends  alike  wanted  presence  of  mind  to  suggest  or  execute 
such  a  plan  of  escape.  The  latter  hastily  fled  from  a  place 
where  their  own  safety  seemed  compromised,  and  the  former, 
in  a  state  resembling  stupefaction,  awaited  in  his  apartment 
the  termination  of  the  enterprise  of  the  rioters.    The  cessa- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


81 


tion  of  the  clang  of  the  instruments  with  which  they  had  at 
first  attempted  to  force  the  door  gave  him  momentary  relief. 
The  flattering  hopes  that  the  military  had  marched  into  the 
city,  either  from  the  Castle  or  from  the  suburbs,  and  that  the 
rioters  were  intimidated  and  dispersing,  were  soon  destroyed 
by  the  broad  and  glaring  light  of  the  flames,  which,  illumi- 
nating through  the  grated  window  every  corner  of  his  apart- 
ment, plainly  showed  that  the  mob,  determined  on  their  fatal 
^°<^  adopted  a  means  of  forcing  entrance  equally 

^^d  to  the  stupified  and 
-  M'^r  0f  conceal- 
b  at  the 
to  have 
;d  by  one 

*  SeC0hW  security, 

nP*iK*         St*  jdf0r  im' 

□  3    fllin    .  lis  farther 

*    7  962      °ls  ichhehad 

asp  of  one 
f  existence, 
lowered  and 
in  the  walls, 
ed  within  one 
uments  of  the 
._.  ,  .  ..  .ed  by  a  shout 
uWB,  the  cry,  namely,  of  the  im- 
prisoned ^j^s,  who,  expecting  to  be  liberated  in  the  general 
confusion,  welcomed  the  mob  as  their  deliverers.    By  some 
of  these  the  apartment  of  Porteous  was  pointed  out  to  his 
enemies.    The  obstacle  of  the  lock  and  bolts  was  soon  over- 
come, and  from  his  hiding-place  the  unfortunate  man  heard 
his  enemies  search  every  corner  of  the  apartment,  with  oaths 
and  maledictions,  which  would  but  shock  the  reader  if  we 
recorded  them,  but  which  served  to  prove,  could  it  have  ad- 
mitted of  doubt,  the  settled  purpose  of  soul  with  which  they 
sought  his  destruction. 

A  place  of  concealment  so  obvious  to  suspicion  and  scrutiny 
6 


80 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


opinion.    They  augured,  from  the  unusual  sternness  and 
silence  with  which  they  bore  their  disappointment,  that  the 
populace  nourished  some  scheme  of  sudden  and  desperate  ven- 
geance ;  and  they  advised  Porteous  to  lose  no  time  in  petition- 
ing the  proper  authorities  that  he  might  be  conveyed  to  the 
Castle  under  a  sufficient  guard,  to  remain  there  in  security 
until  his  ultimate  fate  should  hp  ✓w—  - 
however,  b 
teous  could 
storm  a  str* 
vice  by  whi 
noon  of  the 
friends  who 
dulgence  of 
old  intimacy 
permitted  tc 
the  rules  of  1 

It  was,  tin 
unfortunate 
high  in  misti 
all  his  sins  f 
rioters  minglea  v\xo_ 
The  hurried  call  of  the  jailOx 
stantly  to  depart,  and  his  yet  moiv,  ^ 
dreadful  and  determined  mob  had  possessed  l. 
city  gates  and  guard-house,  were  the  first  explanation  of  these 
fearful  clamours. 

Porteous  might,  however,  have  eluded  the  fury  from  which 
the  force  of  authority  could  not  protect  him,  had  he  thought 
of  slipping  on  some  disguise  and  leaving  the  prison  along  with 
his  guests.  It  is  probable  that  the  jailor  might  have  connived 
at  his  escape,  or  even  that,  in  the  hurry  of  this  alarming  con- 
tingency, he  might  not  have  observed  it.  But  Porteous  and 
his  friends  alike  wanted  presence  of  mind  to  suggest  or  execute 
such  a  plan  of  escape.  The  latter  hastily  fled  from  a  place 
where  their  own  safety  seemed  compromised,  and  the  former, 
in  a  state  resembling  stupefaction,  awaited  in  his  apartment 
the  termination  of  the  enterprise  of  the  rioters.    The  cessa- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


81 


tion  of  the  clang  of  the  instruments  with  which  they  had  at 
first  attempted  to  force  the  door  gave  him  momentary  relief. 
The  flattering  hopes  that  the  military  had  marched  into  the 
city,  either  from  the  Castle  or  from  the  suburbs,  and  that  the 
rioters  were  intimidated  and  dispersing,  were  soon  destroyed 
by  the  broad  and  glaring  light  of  the  flames,  which,  illumi- 
nating through  the  grated  window  every  corner  of  his  apart- 
ment, plainly  showed  that  the  mob,  determined  on  their  fatal 
purpose,  had  adopted  a  means  of  forcing  entrance  equally 
desperate  and  certain. 

The  sudden  glare  of  light  suggested  to  the  stupified  and 
astonished  object  of  popular  hatred  the  possibility  of  conceal- 
ment or  escape.  To  rush  to  the  chimney,  to  ascend  it  at  the 
risk  of  suffocation,  were  the  only  means  which  seem  to  have 
occurred  to  him ;  but  his  progress  was  speedily  stopped  by  one 
of  those  iron  gratings  which  are,  for  the  sake  of  security, 
usually  placed  across  the  vents  of  buildings  designed  for  im- 
prisonment. The  bars,  however,  which  impeded  his  farther 
progress,  served  to  support  him  in  the  situation  which  he  had 
gained,  and  he  seized  them  with  the  tenacious  grasp  of  one 
who  esteemed  himself  clinging  to  his  last  hope  of  existence. 
The  lurid  light  which  had  filled  the  apartment  lowered  and 
died  away ;  the  sound  of  shouts  was  heard  within  the  walls, 
and  on  the  narrow  and  winding  stair,  which,  cased  within  one 
of  the  turrets,  gave  access  to  the  upper  apartments  of  the 
prison.  The  huzza  of  the  rioters  was  answered  by  a  shout 
wild  and  desperate  as  their  own,  the  cry,  namely,  of  the  im- 
prisoned felons,  who,  expecting  to  be  liberated  in  the  general 
confusion,  welcomed  the  mob  as  their  deliverers.  By  some 
of  these  the  apartment  of  Porteous  was  pointed  out  to  his 
enemies.  The  obstacle  of  the  lock  and  bolts  was  soon  over- 
come, and  from  his  hiding-place  the  unfortunate  man  heard 
his  enemies  search  every  corner  of  the  apartment,  with  oaths 
and  maledictions,  which  would  but  shock  the  reader  if  we 
recorded  them,  but  which  served  to  prove,  could  it  have  ad- 
mitted of  doubt,  the  settled  purpose  of  soul  with  which  they 
sought  his  destruction. 

A  place  of  concealment  so  obvious  to  suspicion  and  scrutiny 
6 


82 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


as  that  which  Porteous  had  chosen  could  not  long  screen  him 
from  detection.  He  was  dragged  from  his  lurking-place,  with 
a  violence  which  seemed  to  argue  an  intention  to  put  him  to 
death  on  the  spot.  More  than  one  weapon  was  directed 
towards  him,  when  one  of  the  rioters,  the  same  whose  female 
disguise  had  been  particularly  noticed  by  Butler,  interfered 
in  an  authoritative  tone.  "  Are  ye  mad?"  he  said,  "or  would 
ye  execute  an  act  of  justice  as  if  it  were  a  crime  and  a  cruelty? 
This  sacrifice  will  lose  half  its  savour  if  we  do  not  offer  it  at 
the  very  horns  of  the  altar.  We  will  have  him  die  where  a 
murderer  should  die,  on  the  common  gibbet.  We  will  have 
him  die  where  he  spilled  the  blood  of  so  many  innocents !" 

A  loud  shout  of  applause  followed  the  proposal,  and  the  cry, 
"To  the  gallows  with  the  murderer!  To  the  Grassmarket 
with  him!"  echoed  on  all  hands. 

"Let  no  man  hurt  him,"  continued  the  speaker;  "let  him 
make  his  peace  with  God,  if  he  can ;  we  will  not  kill  both  his 
soul  and  body." 

"  What  time  did  he  give  better  folk  for  preparing  their  ac- 
count?" answered  several  voices.  "  Let  us  mete  to  him  with 
the  same  measure  he  measured  to  them." 

But  the  opinion  of  the  spokesman  better  suited  the  temper 
of  those  he  addressed,  a  temper  rather  stubborn  than  impetu- 
ous, sedate  though  ferocious,  and  desirous  of  colouring  their 
cruel  and  revengeful  action  with  a  show  of  justice  and  mod- 
eration. 

For  an  instant  this  man  quitted  the  prisoner,  whom  he  con- 
signed to  a  selected  guard,  with  instructions  to  permit  him  to 
give  his  money  and  property  to  whomsoever  he  pleased.  A 
person  confined  in  the  jail  for  debt  received  this  last  deposit 
from  the  trembling  hand  of  the  victim,  who  was  at  the  same 
time  permitted  to  make  some  other  brief  arrangements  to  meet 
his  approaching  fate.  The  felons,  and  all  others  who  wished 
to  leave  the  jail,  were  now  at  full  liberty  to  do  so;  not  that 
their  liberation  made  any  part  of  the  settled  purpose  of  the 
rioters,  but  it  followed  as  almost  a  necessary  consequence  of 
forcing  the  jail  doors.  With  wild  cries  of  jubilee  they  joined 
the  mob,  or  disappeared  among  the  narrow  lanes  to  seek  out 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


83 


the  hidden  receptacles  of  vice  and  infamy  where  they  were 
accustomed  to  lurk  and  conceal  themselves  from  justice. 

Two  persons,  a  man  about  fifty  years  old  arid  a  girl  about 
eighteen,  were  all  who  continued  within  the  fatal  walls,  ex- 
cepting two  or  three  debtors,  who  probably  saw  no  advantage 
in  attempting  their  escape.  The  persons  we  have  mentioned 
remained  in  the  strong-room  of  the  prison,  now  deserted  by 
all  others.  One  of  their  late  companions  in  misfortune  called 
out  to  the  man  to  make  his  escape,  in  the  tone  of  an  acquaint- 
ance.   "Kin  for  it,  Eatcliffe;  the  road's  clear." 

"  It  may  be  sae,  Willie, "  answered  Eatcliffe,  composedly, 
"  but  I  have  taen  a  fancy  to  leave  aff  trade,  and  set  up  for  an 
honest  man." 

"  Stay  there  and  be  hanged,  then,  for  a  donnarcl  auld  deevil!" 
said  the  other,  and  ran  down  the  prison  stair. 

The  person  in  female  attire  whom  we  have  distinguished  as 
one  of  the  most  active  rioters  was  about  the  same  time  at  the 
ear  of  the  young  woman.  "Flee,  Effie,  flee!"  was  all  he  had 
time  to  whisper.  She  turned  towards  him  an  eye  of  mingled 
fear,  affection,  and  upbraiding,  all  contending  with  a  sort  of 
stupified  surprise.  He  again  repeated,  "  Flee,  Effie,  flee,  for. 
the  sake  of  all  that's  good  and  dear  to  you!"  Again  she  gazed 
on  him,  but  was  tmable  to  answer.  A  loud  noise  was  now 
heard,  and  the  name  of  Madge  Wildfire  was  repeatedly  called 
from  the  bottom  of  the  staircase. 

"  I  am  coming — I  am  coming, "  said  the  person  who  answered 
to  that  appellative;  and  then  reiterating  hastily,  "For  God's 
sake — for  your  own  sake — for  my  sake,  flee,  or  they'll  take 
your  life!"  he  left  the  strong-room. 

The  girl  gazed  after  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  faintly 
muttering,  "Better  tyne  life,  since  tint  is  gude  fame,"  she 
sunk  her  head  upon  her  hand,  and  remained  seemingly  un- 
conscious as  a  statue  of  the  noise  and  tumuk  which  passed 
around  her. 

That  tumult  was  now  transferred  from  the  inside  to  the  out- 
side of  the  tolbooth.  The  mob  had  brought  their  destined 
victim  forth,  and  were  about  to  conduct  him  to  the  common 
place  of  execution,  which  they  had  fixed  as  the  scene  of  his 


84 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


death.  The  leader  whom  they  distinguished  by  the  name  of 
Madge  Wildfire  had  been  summoned  to  assist  at  the  procession 
by  the  impatient  shouts  of  his  confederates. 

"  I  will  ensure  you  five  hundred  pounds, "  said  the  unhappy 
man,  grasping  Wildfire's  hand — "five  hundred  pounds  for  to 
save  my  life." 

The  other  answered  in  the  same  undertone,  and  returning 
his  grasp  with  one  equally  convulsive,  "  Five  hundredweight 
of  coined  gold  should  not  save  you.    Remember  Wilson!" 

A  deep  pause  of  a  minute  ensued,  when  Wildfire  added,  in 
a  more  composed  tone,  "Make  your  peace  with  Heaven. 
Where  is  the  clergyman?" 

Butler,  who,  in  great  terror  and  anxiety,  had  been  detained 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  tolbooth  door,  to  wait  the  event  of 
the  search  after  Porteous,  was  now  brought  forward  and  com- 
manded to  walk  by  the  prisoner's  side,  and  to  prepare  him  for 
immediate  death.  His  answer  was  a  supplication  that  the 
rioters  would  consider  what  they  did.  "You  are  neither 
judges  nor  jury,"  said  he.  "You  cannot  have,  by  the  law  of 
God  or  man,  power  to  take  away  the  life  of  a  human  creature, 
however  deserving  he  may  be  of  death.  If  it  is  murder  even 
in  a  lawful  magistrate  to  execute  an  offender  otherwise  than 
in  the  place,  time,  and  manner  which  the  judge's  sentence 
prescribes,  what  must  it  be  in  you,  who  have  no  warrant  for 
interference  but  your  own  wills?  In  the  name  of  Him  who 
is  all  mercy,  show  mercy  to  this  unhappy  man,  and  do  not  dip 
your  hands  in  his  blood,  nor  rush  into  the  very  crime  which 
you  are  desirous  of  avenging!" 

"Cut  your  sermon  short,  you  are  not  in  your  pulpit," 
answered  one  of  the  rioters. 

"  If  we  hear  more  of  your  clavers, "  said  another,  "  we  are 
like  to  hang  you  up  beside  him." 

"Peace!  hush!"  said  Wildfire.  "Do  the  good  man  no 
harm;  he  discharges  his  conscience,  and  I  like  him  the 
better." 

He  then  addressed  Butler.  "  Now,  sir,  we  have  patiently 
heard  you,  and  we  just  wish  you  to  understand,  in  the  way  of 
answer,  that  you  may  as  well  argue  to  the  ashler-work  and 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


85 


iron  stanchels  of  the  tolbooth  as  think  to  change  our  purpose. 
Blood  must  have  blood.  We  have  sworn  to  each  other  by  the 
deepest  oaths  ever  were  pledged,  that  Porteous  shall  die  the 
death  he  deserves  so  richly ;  therefore,  speak  no  more  to  us, 
but  prepare  him  for  death  as  well  as  the  briefness  of  his 
change  will  permit." 

They  had  suffered  the  unfortunate  Porteous  to  put  on  his 
nightgown  and  slippers,  as  he  had  thrown,  off  his  coat  and 
shoes  in  order  to  facilitate  his  attempted  escape  up  the  chimney. 
In  this  garb  he  was  now  mounted  on  the  hands  of  two  of  the 
rioters,  clasped  together,  so  as  to  form  what  is  called  in  Scot- 
land "The  King's  Cushion."  Butler  was  placed  close  to  his 
side,  and  repeatedly  urged  to  perform  a  duty  always  the  most 
painful  which  can  be  imposed  on  a  clergyman  deserving  of  the 
name,  and  now  rendered  more  so  by  the  peculiar  and  horrid 
circumstances  of  the  criminal's  case.  Porteous  at  first  ut- 
tered some  supplications  for  mercy,  but  when  he  found  that 
there  was  no  chance  that  these  would  be  attended  to,  his  mili- 
tary education,  and  the  natural  stubbornness  of  his  disposition, 
combined  to  support  his  spirits. 

"  Are  you  prepared  for  this  dreadful  end?"  said  Butler,  in 
a  faltering  voice.  "  Oh  turn  to  Him  in  whose  eyes  time  and 
space  have  no  existence,  and  to  whom  a  few  minutes  are  as  a 
lifetime  and  a  lifetime  as  a  minute." 

"  I  believe  I  know  what  you  would  say, "  answered  Porteous, 
sullenly.  "I  was  bred  a  soldier;  if  they  will  murder  me 
without  time,  let  my  sins  as  well  as  my  blood  lie  at  their 
door. " 

"Who  was  it,"  said  the  stern  voice  of  Wildfire,  "that  said 
to  Wilson  at  this  very  spot,  when  he  could  not  pray,  owing 
to  the  galling  agony  of  his  fetters,  that  his  pains  would  soon 
be  over?  I  say  to  you,  take  your  own  tale  home;  and  if  you 
cannot  profit  by  the  good  man's  lessons,  blame  not  them  that 
are  still  more  merciful  to  you  than  you  were  to  others." 

The  procession  now  moved  forward  with  a  slow  and  deter- 
mined pace.  It  was  enlightened  by  many  blazing  links  and 
torches ;  for  the  actors  of  this  work  were  so  far  from  affecting 
any  secrecy  on  the  occasion  that  they  seemed  even  to  court 


86 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


observation.  Their  principal  leaders  kept  close  to  the  person 
of  the  prisoner,  whose  pallid  yet  stubborn  features  were  seen 
distinctly  by  the  torch-light,  as  his  person  was  raised  con- 
siderably above  the  concourse  which  thronged  around  him. 
Those  who  bore  swords,  muskets,  and  battle-axes  marched  on 
each  side,  as  if  forming  a  regular  guard  to  the  procession. 
The  windows,  as  they  went  along,  were  filled  with  the  inhabi- 
tants, whose  slumbers  had  been  broken  by  this  unusual 'dis- 
turbance. Some  of  the  spectators  muttered  accents  of  encour- 
agement; but  in  general  they  were  so  much  appalled  by  the 
sight  so  strange  and  audacious,  that  they  looked  on  with  a 
sort  of  stupified  astonishment.  No  one  offered,  by  act  or 
word,  the  slightest  interruption. 

The  rioters,  on  their  part,  continued  to  act  with  the  same 
air  of  deliberate  confidence  and  security  which  had  marked 
all  their  proceedings.  When  the  object  of  their  resentment 
dropped  one  of  his  slippers,  they  stopped,  sought  for  it,  and 
replaced  it  upon  his  foot  with  great  deliberation. 1  As  they 
descended  the  Bow  towards  the  fatal  spot  where  they  designed 
to  complete  their  purpose,  it  was  suggested  that  there  should 
be  a  rope  kept  in  readiness.  For  this  purpose  the  booth  of 
a  man  who  dealt  in  cordage  was  forced  open,  a  coil  of  rope  fit 
for  their  purpose  was  selected  to  serve  as  a  halter,  and  the 
dealer  next  morning  found  that  a  guinea  had  been  left  on  his 
counter  in  exchange;  so  anxious  were  the  perpetrators  of  this 
daring  action  to  show  that  they  meditated  not  the  slightest 
wrong  for  infraction  of  law,  excepting  so  far  as  Porteous  was 
himself  concerned. 

Leading,  or  carrying  along  with  them,  in  this  determined 
and  regular  manner,  the  object  of  their  vengeance,  they  at 
length  reached  the  place  of  common  execution,  the  scene  of 
his  crime,  and  destined  spot  of  his  sufferings.  Several  of  the 
rioters  (if  they  should  not  rather  be  described  as  conspirators) 
endeavoured  to  remove  the  stone  which  filled  up  the  socket  in 
which  the  end  of  the  fatal  tree  was  sunk  when  it  was  erected 

1  This  little  incident,  characteristic  of  the  extreme  composure  of  this  ex- 
traordinary mob,  was  witnessed  by  a  lady  who,  disturbed,  like  others, 
from  her  slumbers,  had  gone  to  the  window.  It  was  told  to  the  Author  by 
the  lady's  daughter. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  87 

for  its  fatal  purpose ;  others  sought  for  the  means  of  construct- 
ing a  temporary  gibbet,  the  place  in  which  the  gallows  itself 
was  deposited  being  reported  too  secure  to  be  forced,  without 
much  loss  of  time. 

Butler  endeavoured  to  avail  himself  of  the  delay  afforded 
by  these  circumstances  to  turn  the  people  from  their  desperate 
design.  "For  God's  sake,"  he  exclaimed,  " remember  it  is 
the  image  of  your  Creator  which  you  are  about  to  deface  in 
the  person  of  this  unfortunate  man !  Wretched  as  he  is,  and 
wicked  as  he  may  be,  he  has  a  share  in  every  promise  of  Scrip- 
ture, and  you  cannot  destroy  him  in  impenitence  without  blot- 
ting his  name  from  the  Book  of  Life.  Do  not  destroy  soul 
and  body;  give  time  for  preparation." 

"  What  time  had  they,  V  returned  a  stern  voice,  "  whom  he 
murdered  on  this  very  spot?  The  laws  both  of  God  and  man 
call  for  his  death." 

"But  what,  my  friends,"  insisted  Butler,  with  a  generous 
disregard  to  his  own  safety — "  what  hath  constituted  you  his 
judges?" 

"We  are  not  his  judges,"  replied  the  same  person;  "he  has 
been  already  judged  and  condemned  by  lawful  authority.  We 
are  those  whom  Heaven,  and  our  righteous  anger,  have  stirred 
up  to  execute  judgment,  when  a  corrupt  government  would 
have  protected  a  murderer." 

"I  am  none,"  said  the  unfortunate  Porteous;  "that  which 
you  charge  upon  me  fell  out  in  self-defence,  in  the  lawful  ex- 
ercise of  my  duty." 

"Away  with  him — away  with  him!"  was  the  general  cry. 
"Why  do  you  trifle  away  time  in  making  a  gallows?  that 
dy ester's  pole  is  good  enough  for  the  homicide." 

The  unhappy  man  was  forced  to  his  fate  with  remorseless 
rapidity.  Butler,  separated  from  him  by  the  press,  escaped 
the  last  horrors  of  his  struggles.  Unnoticed  by  those  who 
had  hitherto  detained  him  as  a  prisoner,  he  tied  from  the  fatal 
spot,  without  much  caring  in  what  direction  his  course  lay. 
A  loud  shout  proclaimed  the  stern  delight  with  which  the 
agents  of  this  deed  regarded  its  completion.  Butler  then,  at 
the  opening  into  the  low  street  called  the  Cowgate,  cast  back 


88  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

a  terrified  glance,  and  by  the  red  and  dusky  light  of  the  torches 
he  could  discern  a  figure  wavering  and  struggling  as  it  hung 
suspended  above  the  heads  of  the  multitude,  and  could  even 
observe  men  striking  at  it  with  their  Lochaber  axes  and  par- 
tizans.  The  sight  was  of  a  nature  to  double  his  horror  and 
to  add  wings  to  his  flight. 

The  street  down  which  the  fugitive  ran  opens  to  one  of 
the  eastern  ports  or  gates  of  the  city.  Butler  did  not  stop 
till  he  reached  it,  but  found  it  still  shut.  He  waited  nearly 
an  hour,  walking  up  and  down  in  inexpressible  perturbation 
of  mind.  At  length  he  ventured  to  call  out  and  rouse  the  at- 
tention of  the  terrified  keepers  of  the  gate,  who  found  them- 
selves at  liberty  to  resume  their  office  without  interruption. 
Butler  requested  them  to  open  the  gate.  They  hesitated. 
He  told  them  his  name  and  occupation. 

"  He  is  a  preacher,"  said  one;  "  I  have  heard  him  preach  in 
Haddo's  Hole." 

"  A  fine  preaching  has  he  been  at  the  night, "  said  another ; 
"  but  maybe  least  said  is  sunest  mended. 99 

Opening  then  the  wicket  of  the  main  gate,  the  keepers  suf- 
fered Butler  to  depart,  who  hastened  to  carry  his  horror  and 
fear  beyond  the  walls  of  Edinburgh.  His  first  purpose  was 
instantly  to  take  the  road  homeward;  but  other  fears  and 
cares,  connected  with  the  news  he  had  learned  in  that  remark- 
able day,  induced  him  to  linger  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Edin- 
burgh until  daybreak.  More  than  one  group  of  persons  passed 
him  as  he  was  whiling  away  the  hours  of  darkness  that  yet 
remained,  whom,  from  the  stifled  tones  of  their  discourse,  the 
unwonted  hour  when  they  travelled,  and  the  hasty  pace  at 
which  they  walked,  he  conjectured  to  have  been  engaged  in 
the  late  fatal  transaction. 

Certain  it  was,  that  the  sudden  and  total  dispersion  of  the 
rioters,  when  their  vindictive  purpose  was  accomplished, 
seemed  not  the  least  remarkable  feature  of  this  singular  affair. 
In  general,  whatever  may  be  the  impelling  motive  by  which 
a  mob  is  at  first  raised,  the  attainment  of  their  object  had 
usually  been  only  found  to  lead  the  way  to  farther  excesses. 
But  not  so  in  the  present  case.    They  seemed  completely  sa- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


89 


tiated  with  the  vengeance  they  had  prosecuted  with  such  stanch 
and  sagacious  activity.  When  they  were  fully  satisfied  that 
life  had  abandoned  their  victim,  they  dispersed  in  every  direc- 
tion, throwing  down  the  weapons  which  they  had  only  as- 
sumed to  enable  them  to  carry  through  their  purpose.  At 
daybreak  there  remained  not  the  least  tokens  of  the  events 
of  the  night,  excepting  the  corpse  of  Porteous,  which  still 
hung  suspended  in  the  place  where  he  had  suffered,  and 
the  arms  of  various  kinds  which  the  rioters  had  taken 
from  the  city  guard-house,  which  were  found  scattered 
about  the  streets  as  they  had  thrown  them  from  their  hands, 
when  the  purpose  for  which  they  had  seized  them  was  ac- 
complished. 1 

The  ordinary  magistrates  of  the  city  resumed  their  power, 
not  without  trembling  at  the  late  experience  of  the  fragility 
of  its  tenure.  To  march  troops  into  the  city,  and  commence 
a  severe  inquiry  into  the  transactions  of  the  preceding  night, 
were  the  first  marks  of  returning  energy  which  they  displayed. 
But  these  events  had  been  conducted  on  so  secure  and  well- 
calculated  a  plan  of  safety  and  secrecy,  that  there  was  little 
or  nothing  learned  to  throw  light  upon  the  authors  or  prin- 
cipal actors  in  a  scheme  so  audacious.  An  express  was  de- 
spatched to  London  with  the  tidings,  where  they  excited  great 
indignation  and  surprise  in  the  council  of  regency,  and  par- 
ticularly in  the  bosom  of  Queen  Caroline,  who  considered  her 
own  authority  as  exposed  to  contempt  by  the  success  of  this 
singular  conspiracy.  Nothing  was  spoke  of  for  some  time 
save  the  measure  of  vengeance  which  should  be  taken,  not 
only  on  the  actors  of  this  tragedy  as  soon  as  they  should  be 
discovered,  but  upon  the  magistrates  who  had  suffered  it  to 
take  place,  and  upon  the  city  which  had  been  the  scene  where 
it  was  exhibited.  On  this  occasion,  it  is  still  recorded  in 
popular  tradition  that  her  Majesty,  in  the  height  of  her  dis- 
pleasure, told  the  celebrated  John,  Duke  of  Argyle,  that, 
sooner  than  submit  to  such  an  insult,  she  would  make  Scot- 
land a  hunting-field.  "In  that  case,  Madam,"  answered  that 
high-spirited  nobleman,  with  a  profound  bow,  "I  will  take 
1  See  The  Murder  of  Captain  Porteous.    Note  11. 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


leave  of  your  Majesty,  and  go  down  to  my  own  country  to 
get  my  hounds  ready." 

The  import  of  the  reply  had  more  than  met  the  ear ;  and  as 
most  of  the  Scottish  nobility  and  gentry  seemed  actuated  by 
the  same  national  spirit,  the  royal  displeasure  was  necessarily 
checked  in  mid-volley,  and  milder  courses  were  recommended 
and  adopted,  to  some  of  which  we  may  hereafter  have  occa- 
sion to  advert. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Arthur's  Seat  shall  be  ray  bed, 
The  sheets  shall  ne'er  be  press' d  by  me  ; 

St.  Anton's  well  shall  be  my  drink, 
Sin'  my  true-love's  forsaken  me. 

Old  Song. 

If  I  were  to  choose  a  spot  from  which  the  rising  or  setting 
sun  could  be  seen  to  the  greatest  possible  advantage,  it  would 
be  that  wild  path  winding  around  the  foot  of  the  high  belt  of 
semicircular  rocks  called  Salisbury  Crags,  and  marking  the 
verge  of  the  steep  descent  which  slopes  down  into  the  glen  on 
the  southeastern  side  of  the  city  of  Edinburgh.  The  pros- 
pect, in  its  general  outline,  commands  a  close-built,  high-piled 
city,  stretching  itself  out  beneath  in  a  form  which,  to  a  ro- 
mantic imagination,  may  be  supposed  to  represent  that  of  a 
dragon;  now  a  noble  arm  of  the  sea,  with  its  rocks,  isles,  dis- 
tant shores,  and  boundary  of  mountains ;  and  now  a  fair  and 
fertile  champaign  country,  varied  with  hill,  dale,  and  rock, 
and  skirted  by  the  picturesque  ridge  of  the  Pentland  Moun- 
tains. But  as  the  path  gently  circles  around  the  base  of  the 
cliffs,  the  prospect,  composed  as  it  is  of  these  enchanting  and 
sublime  objects,  changes  at  every  step,  and  presents  them 
blended  with,  or  divided  from,  each  other  in  every  possible 
variety  which  can  gratify  the  eye  and  the  imagination.  When 
a  piece  of  scenery  so  beautiful,  yet  so  varied,  so  exciting  by 
its  intricacy,  and  yet  so  sublime,  is  lighted  up  by  the  tints  of 
morning  or  of  evening,  and  displays  all  that  variety  of  shadowy 
depth,  exchanged  with  partial  brilliancy,  which  gives  character 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


91 


even  to  the  tamest  of  landscapes,  the  effect  approaches  near 
to  enchantment.  This  path  nsed  to  be  my  favourite  evening 
and  morning  resort,  when  engaged  with  a  favourite  author  or 
new  subject  of  study.  It  is,  I  am  informed,  now  become  to- 
tally impassable,  a  circumstance  which,  if  true,  reflects  little 
credit  on  the  taste  of  the  Good  Town  or  its  leaders. 1 

It  was  from  this  fascinating  path — the  scene  to  me  of  so 
much  delicious  musing,  when  life  was  young  and  promised  to 
be  happy,  that  I  have  been  unable  to  pass  it  over  without  an 
episodical  description — it  was,  I  say,  from  this  romantic  path 
that  Butler  saw  the  morning  arise  the  day  after  the  murder  of 
Porteous.  It  was  possible  for  him  with  ease  to  have  found  a 
much  shorter  road  to  the  house  to  which  he  was  directing  his 
course,  and,  in  fact,  that  which  he  chose  was  extremely  circui- 
tous. But  to  compose  his  own  spirits,  as  well  as  to  while 
away  the  time,  until  a  proper  hour  for  visiting  the  family 
without  surprise  or  disturbance,  he  was  induced  to  extend  his 
circuit  by  the  foot  of  the  rocks,  and  to  linger  upon  his  way 
until  the  morning  should  be  considerably  advanced.  While, 
now  standing  with  his  arms  across  and  waiting  the  slow  prog- 
ress of  the  sun  above  the  horizon,  now  sitting  upon  one  of  the 
numerous  fragments  which  storms  had  detached  from  the 
rocks  above  him,  he  is  meditating  alternately  upon  the  hor- 
rible catastrophe  which  he  had  witnessed,  and  upon  the  mel- 
ancholy, and  to  him  most  interesting,  news  which  he  had 
learned  at  Saddletree's,  we  will  give  the  reader  to  understand 
who  Butler  was,  and  how  his  fate  was  connected  with  that  of 
Effie  Deans,  the  unfortunate  handmaiden  of  the  careful  Mrs. 
Saddletree. 

Reuben  Butler  was  of  English  extraction,  though  born  in 
Scotland.  His  grandfather  was  a  trooper  in  Monk's  army,  and 
one  of  the  party  of  dismounted  dragoons  which  formed  the  for- 
lorn hope  at  the  storming  of  Dundee  in  1651.  Stephen  Butler 
(called,  from  his  talents  in  reading  and  expounding,  Scripture 
Stephen  and  Bible  Butler)  was  a  stanch  Independent,  and 

1  A  beautiful  and  solid  pathway  has,  within  a  few  years,  been  formed 
around  these  romantic  rocks  ;  and  the  Author  has  the  pleasure  to  think 
that  the  passage  in  the  text  gave  rise  to  the  undertaking. 


92 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


received  in  its  fullest  comprehension  the  promise  that  the 
saints  should  inherit  the  earth.  As  hard  knocks  were  what 
had  chiefly  fallen  to  his  share  hitherto  in  the  division  of  this 
common  property,  he  lost  not  the  opportunity,  which  the 
storm  and  plunder  of  a  commercial  place  afforded  him,  to 
appropriate  as  large  a  share  of  the  better  things  of  this  world 
as  he  could  possibly  compass.  It  would  seem  that  he  had 
succeeded  indifferently  well,  for  his  exterior  circumstances 
appeared,  in  consequence  of  this  event,  to  have  been  much 
mended. 

The  troop  to  which  he  belonged  was  quartered  at  the  vil- 
lage of  Dalkeith,  as  forming  the  body-guard  of  Monk,  who, 
in  the  capacity  of  general  for  the  Commonwealth,  resided  in 
the  neighbouring  castle.  When,  on  the  eve  of  the  Bestora- 
tion,  the  general  commenced  his  march  from  Scotland,  a  meas- 
ure pregnant  with  such  important  consequences,  he  new-mod- 
elled his  troops,  and  more  especially  those  immediately  about 
his  person,  in  order  that  they  might  consist  entirely  of  indi- 
viduals devoted  to  himself.  On  this  occasion  Scripture  Ste- 
phen was  weighed  in  the  balance  and  found  wanting.  It  was 
supposed  he  felt  no  call  to  any  expedition  which  might  en- 
danger the  reign  of  the  military  sainthood,  and  that  he  did 
not  consider  himself  as  free  in  conscience  to  join  with  any 
party  which  might  be  likely  ultimately  to  acknowledge  the 
interest  of  Charles  Stuart,  the  son  of  "the  last  man,"  as 
Charles  I.  was  familiarly  and  irreverently  termed  by  them  in 
their  common  discourse,  as  well  as  in  their  more  elaborate 
predications  and  harangues.  As  the  time  did  not  admit  of 
cashiering  such  dissidents,  Stephen  Butler  was  only  advised 
in  a  friendly  way  to  give  up  his  horse  and  accoutrements  to 
one  of  Middleton's  old  troopers,  who  possessed  an  accommo- 
dating conscience  of  a  military  stamp,  and  which  squared  it- 
self chiefly  upon  those  of  the  colonel  and  paymaster.  As  this 
hint  came  recommended  by  a  certain  sum  of  arrears  presently 
payable,  Stephen  had  carnal  wisdom  enough  to  embrace  the 
proposal,  and  with  great  indifference  saw  his  old  corps  depart 
for  Coldstream,  on  their  route  for  the  south,  to  establish  the 
tottering  government  of  England  on  a  new  basis. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


93 


The  "zone"  of  the  ex-trooper,  to  use  Horace's  phrase,  was 
weighty  enough  to  purchase  a  cottage  and  two  or  three  fields 
(still  known  by  the  name  of  Beersheba),  within  about  a  Scot- 
tish mile  of  Dalkeith ;  and  there  did  Stephen  establish  himself 
with  a  youthful  helpmate,  chosen  out  of  the  said  village, 
whose  disposition  to  a  comfortable  settlement  on  this  side  of 
the  grave  reconciled  her  to  the  gruff  manners,  serious  tem- 
per, and  weather-beaten  features  of  the  martial  enthusiast. 
Stephen  did  not  long  survive  the  falling  on  "  evil  days  and 
evil  tongues, "  of  which  Milton,  in  the  same  predicament,  so 
mournfully  complains.  At  his  death  his  consort  remained 
an  early  widow,  with  a  male  child  of  three  years  old, 
which,  in  the  sobriety  wherewith  it  demeaned  itself,  in 
the  old-fashioned  and  even  grim  cast  of  its  features,  and  in 
its  sententious  mode  of  expressing  itself,  would  sufficiently 
have  vindicated  the  honour  of  the  widow  of  Beersheba,  had 
any  one  thought  proper  to  challenge  the  babe's  descent  from 
Bible  Butler. 

Butler's  principles  had  not  descended  to  his  family,  or  ex- 
tended themselves  among  his  neighbours.  The  air  of  Scotland 
was  alien  to  the  growth  of  Independency,  however  favourable 
to  fanaticism  under  other  colours.  But,  nevertheless,  they 
were  not  forgotten;  and  a  certain  neighbouring  laird,  who 
piqued  himself  upon  the  loyalty  of  his  principles  "in  the 
worst  of  times"  (though  I  never  heard  they  exposed  him  to 
more  peril  than  that  of  a  broken  head,  or  a  night's  lodging  in 
the  main  guard,  when  wine  and  Cavalierism  predominated  in 
his  upper  story),  had  found  it  a  convenient  thing  to  rake  up 
all  matter  of  accusation  against  the  deceased  Stephen.  In 
this  enumeration  his  religious  principles  made  no  small  figure, 
as,  indeed,  they  must  have  seemed  of  the  most  exaggerated 
enormity  to  one  whose  own  were  so  small  and  so  faintly  traced 
as  to  be  wellnigh  imperceptible.  In  these  circumstances, 
poor  widow  Butler  was  supplied  with  her  full  proportion  of 
fines  for  nonconformity,  and  all  the  other  oppressions  of  the 
time,  until  Beersheba  was  fairly  wrenched  out  of  her  hands, 
and  became  the  property  of  the  laird  who  had  so  wantonly,  as 
it  had  hitherto  appeared,  persecuted  this  poor  forlorn  woman. 


94 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


When  his  purpose  was  fairly  achieved,  he  showed  some  re- 
morse or  moderation,  or  whatever  the  reader  may  please  to 
term  it,  in  permitting  her  to  occupy  her  husband's  cottage, 
and  cultivate,  on  no  very  heavy  terms,  a  croft  of  land  adja- 
cent. Her  son,  Benjamin,  in  the  mean  while,  grew  up  to 
man's  estate,  and,  moved  by  that  impulse  which  makes  men 
seek  marriage  even  when  its  end  can  only  be  the  perpetuation 
of  misery,  he  wedded  and  brought  a  wife,  and  eventually  a 
son,  Eeuben,  to  share  the  poverty  of  Beersheba. 

The  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes  1  had  hitherto  been  moderate  in 
his  exactions,  perhaps  because  he  was  ashamed  to  tax  too 
highly  the  miserable  means  of  support  which  remained  to  the 
widow  Butler.  But  when  a  stout  active  young  fellow  ap- 
peared as  the  labourer  of  the  croft  in  question,  Dumbie- 
dikes began  to  think  so  broad  a  pair  of  shoulders  might  bear 
an  additional  burden.  He  regulated,  indeed,  his  management 
of  his  dependents  (who  fortunately  were  but  few  in  number) 
much  upon  the  principle  of  the  carters  whom  he  observed 
loading  their  carts  at  a  neighbouring  coal-hill,  and  who  never 
failed  to  clap  an  additional  brace  of  hundredweights  on  their 
burden,  so  soon  as  by  any  means  they  had  compassed  a 
new  horse  of  somewhat  superior  strength  to  that  which  had 
broken  down  the  day  before.  However  reasonable  this  prac- 
tice appeared  to  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  he  ought  to  have 
observed  that  it  may  be  overdone,  and  that  it  infers,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  the  destruction  and  loss  of  both  horse,  cart, 
and  loading.  Even  so  it  befell  when  the  additional  "  presta- 
tions "  came  to  be  demanded  of  Benjamin  Butler.  A  man  of 
few  words  and  few  ideas,  but  attached  to  Beersheba  with  a 
feeling  like  that  which  a  vegetable  entertains  to  the  spot  in 
which  it  chances  to  be  planted,  he  neither  remonstrated  with 
the  Laird  nor  endeavoured  to  escape  from  him,  but,  toiling 
night  and  day  to  accomplish  the  terms  of  his  taskmaster,  fell 
into  a  burning  fever  and  died.  His  wife  did  not  long  survive 
him;  and,  as  if  it  had  been  the  fate  of  this  family  to  be  left 
orphans,  our  Eeuben  Butler  was,  about  the  year  1704-5,  left 
in  the  same  circumstances  in  which  his  father  had  been  placed, 
1  See  Dumbiedikes.   Note  12. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


95 


and  under  the  same  guardianship,  being  that  of  his  grand- 
mother, the  widow  of  Monk's  old  trooper. 

The  same  prospect  of  misery  hung  over  the  head  of  anothei 
tenant  of  this  hard-hearted  lord  of  the  soil.  This  was  a  tough 
true-blue  Presbyterian,  called  Deans,  who,  though  most  ob- 
noxious to  the  Laird  on  account  of  principles  in  church  and 
state,  contrived  to  maintain  his  ground  upon  the  estate  by  reg- 
ular payment  of  mail- duties,  kain,  arriage,  carriage,  dry  mul- 
ture, lock,  gowpen,  and  knaveship,  and  all  the  various  exactions 
now  commuted  for  money,  and  summed  up  in  the  emphatic 
word  rent.  But  the  years  1700  and  1701,  long  remembered 
in  Scotland  for  dearth  and  general  distress,  subdued  the  stout 
heart  of  the  agricultural  Whig.  Citations  by  the  ground- 
officer,  decreets  of  the  Baron  Court,  sequestrations,  poindings 
of  outsight  and  insight  plenishing,  flew  about  his  ears  as  fast 
as  ever  the  Tory  bullets  whistled  around  those  of  the  Cove- 
nanters at  Pentland,  Bothwell  Brig,  or  Aird's  Moss.  Strug- 
gle as  he  might,  and  he  struggled  gallantly,  "Douce  David 
Deans"  was  routed  horse  and  foot,  and  lay  at  the  mercy  of  his 
grasping  landlord  just  at  the  time  that  Benjamin  Butler  died. 
The  fate  of  each  family  was  anticipated ;  but  they  who  prophe- 
sied their  expulsion  to  beggary  and  ruin  were  disappointed  by 
an  accidental  circumstance. 

On  the  very  term-day  when  their  ejection  should  have  taken 
place,  when  all  their  neighbours  were  prepared  to  pity  and 
not  one  to  assist  them,  the  minister  of  the  parish,  as  well  as 
a  doctor  from  Edinburgh,  received  a  hasty  summons  to  attend 
the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes.  Both  were  surprised,  for  his  con- 
tempt for  both  faculties  had  been  pretty  commonly  his  theme 
over  an  extra  bottle,  that  is  to  say,  at  least  once  every  day. 
The  leech  for  the  soul  and  he  for  the  body  alighted  in  the 
court  of  the  little  old  manor-house  at  almost  the  same  time ; 
and  when  they  had  gazed  a  moment  at  each  other  with  some 
surprise,  they  in  the  same  breath  expressed  their  conviction 
that  Dumbiedikes  must  needs  be  very  ill  indeed,  since  he 
summoned  them  both  to  his  presence  at  once.  Ere  the  ser- 
vant could  usher  them  to  his  apartment  the  party  was  aug- 
mented by  a  man  of  law,  Mchil  Novit,  writing  himself  procu- 


96 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


rator  before  the  sheriff  court,  for  in  those  days  there  were  no 
solicitors.  This  latter  personage  was  first  summoned  to  the 
apartment  of  the  Laird,  where,  after  some  short  space,  the 
soul-curer  and  the  body-curer  were  invited  to  join  him. 

Dumbiedikes  had  been  by  this  time  transported  into  the 
best  bedroom,  used  only  upon  occasions  of  death  and  mar- 
riage, and  called,  from  the  former  of  these  occupations,  the 
Dead  Koom.  There  were  in  this  apartment,  besides  the  sick 
person  himself  and  Mr.  Novit,  the  son  and  heir  of  the  pa- 
tient, a  tall  gawky  silly -looking  boy  of  fourteen  or  fifteen, 
and  a  housekeeper,  a  good  buxom  figure  of  a  woman,  betwixt 
forty  and  fifty,  who  had  k^pt  the  keys  and  managed  matters 
at  Dumbiedikes  since  the  lady's  death.  It  was  to  these  at- 
tendants that  Dumbiedikes  addressed  himself  pretty  nearly 
in  the  following  words ;  temporal  and  spiritual  matters,  the 
care  of  his  health  and  his  affairs,  being  strangely  jumbled  in 
a  head  which  was  never  one  of  the  clearest : 

"  These  are  sair  times  wi'  me,  gentlemen  and  neighbours ! 
amaist  as  ill  as  at  the  aughty-nine,  when  I  was  rabbled  by  the 
collegeaners.1  They  mistook  me  muckle:  they  ca'd  me  a 
Papist,  but  there  was  never  a  Papist  bit  about  me,  minister. 
Jock,  ye'll  take  warning.  It's  a  debt  we  maun  a'  pay,  and 
there  stands  Nichil  Novit  that  will  tell  ye  I  was  never  gude 
at  paying  debts  in  my  life.  Mr.  Novit,  ye'll  no  forget  to 
draw  the  annual  rent  that's  due  on  the  yerl's  band;  if  I  pay 
debt  to  other  folk,  I  think  they  suld  pay  it  to  me — that  equals 
aquals.  Jock,  when  ye  hae  naething  else  to  do,  ye  may  be 
aye  sticking  in  a  tree;  it  will  be  growing,  Jock,  when  ye're 
sleeping.2  My  father  tauld  me  sae  forty  years  sin,  but  I 
ne'er  fand  time  to  mind  him.  Jock,  ne'er  drink  brandy  in 
the  morning,  it  files  the  stamach  sair;  gin  ye  take  a  morning's 
draught,  let  it  be  aqua  mirabilis;  Jenny  there  makes  it  weel. 
Doctor,  my  breath  is  growing  as  scant  as  a  broken-winded 
piper's  when  he  has  played  for  four  and  twenty  hours  at  a 
penny-wedding.  Jenny,  pit  the  cod  aneath  my  head;  but  it's 
a'  needless!    Mass  John,  could  ye  think  o'  rattling  ower 

1  See  College  Students.    Note  13. 

2  See  Recommendation  to  Arboriculture.   Note  14. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


97 


some  bit  short  prayer ;  it  wad  do  me  gude  maybe,  and  keep 
some  queer  thoughts  out  o'  my  head.  Say  something, 
man." 

"I  cannot  use  a  prayer  like  a  ratt-rhyme, "  answered  the 
honest  clergyman ;  "  and  if  you  would  have  your  soul  re- 
deemed like  a  prey  from  the  fowler,  Laird,  you  must  needs 
show  me  your  state  of  mind. 99 

"And  shouldna  ye  ken  that  without  my  telling  you?"  an- 
swered the  patient.  "  What  have  I  been  paying  stipend  and 
teind,  parsonage  and  vicarage  for,  ever  sin'  the  aughty-nine, 
an  I  canna  get  a  spell  of  a  prayer  for't,  the  only  time  I  ever 
asked  for  ane  in  my  life?  Gang  awa'  wi'  your  AYhiggery,  if 
that's  a'  ye  can  do;  auld  Curate  Kiltstoup  wad  hae  read  half 
the  Prayer  Book  to  me  by  this  time.  Awa'  wi'  ye !  Doctor, 
let's  see  if  ye  can  do  ony  thing  better  for  me." 

The  Doctor,  who  had  obtained  some  information  in  the 
mean  while  from  the  housekeeper  on  the  state  of  his  com- 
plaints, assured  him  the  medical  art  could  not  prolong  his 
life  many  hours. 

"Then  damn  Mass  John  and  you  baith!"  cried  the  furious 
and  intractable  patient.  "  Did  ye  come  here  for  naething  but 
to  tell  me  that  ye  canna  help  me  at  the  pinch?  Out  wi'  them, 
Jenny — out  o'  the  house!  and,  Jock,  my  curse,  and  the  curse 
of  Cromwell,  go  wi'  ye,  if  ye  gie  them  either  fee  or  bountith, 
or  sae  muckle  as  a  black  pair  o'  cheverons!" 

The  clergyman  and  doctor  made  a  speedy  retieat  out  of  the 
apartment,  while  Dumbiedikes  fell  into  one  of  those  tran- 
sports of  violent  and  profane  language  which  had  procured 
him  the  surname  of  Danm-me- dikes.  "  Bring  me  the  brandy 
bottle,  Jenny,  ye  b  ,"  he  cried  with  a  voice  in  which  pas- 
sion contended  with  pain.  "  I  can  die  as  I  have  lived,  with- 
out fashing  ony  o'  them.  But  there's  ae  thing,"  he  said, 
sinking  his  voice — "there's  ae  fearful  thing  hings  about  my 
heart,  and  an  anker  of  brandy  winna  wash  it  away.  The 
Deanses  at  Woodend!  I  sequestrated  them  in  the  dear  years, 
and  now  they  are  to  flit,  they'll  starve;  and  that  Beersheba, 
and  that  auld  trooper's  wife  and  her  oe,  they'll  starve — they'll 
starve!  Look  out,  Jock;  what  kind  o'  night  is't?" 
7 


98 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  On -ding  o'  snaw,  father, "  answered  Jock,  after  having 
opened  the  window  and  looked  out  with  great  composure. 

"They'll  perish  in  the  drifts!"  said  the  expiring  sinner — ■ 
"  they'll  perish  wi'  cauld!  but  I'll  be  het  eneugh,  gin  a'  tales 
be  true." 

This  last  observation  was  made  under  breath,  and  in  a  tone 
which  made  the  very  attorney  shudder.  He  tried  his  hand  at 
ghostly  advice,  probably  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  rec- 
ommended, as  an  opiate  for  the  agonised  conscience  of  the 
Laird,  reparation  of  the  injuries  he  had  done  to  these  distressed 
families,  which,  he  observed  by  the  way,  the  civil  law  called 
restitutio  in  integrum.  But  Mammon  was  struggling  with  Re- 
morse for  retaining  his  place  in  a  bosom  he  had  so  long  pos- 
sessed ;  and  he  partly  succeeded,  as  an  old  tyrant  proves  often 
too  strong  for  his  insurgent  rebels. 

"I  canna  do't,"  he  answered,  with  a  voice  of  despair.  "It 
would  kill  me  to  do't;  how  can  ye  bid  me  pay  back  siller, 
when  ye  ken  how  I  want  it?  or  dispone  Beersheba,  when  it 
lies  sae  weel  into  my  ain  plaid-nuik?   Nature  made  Dumbie- 

dikes  and  Beersheba  to  be  ae  man's  land.    She  did,  by  

Nichil,  it  wad  kill  me  to  part  them. " 

"But  ye  maun  die  whether  or  no,  Laird,"  said  Mr.  Novit; 
"and  maybe  ye  wad  die  easier,  it's  but  trying.  I'll  scroll  the 
disposition  in  nae  time." 

"Dinna  speak  o't,  sir,"  replied  Dumbiedikes,  "or  I'll  fling 
the  stoup  at  your  head.  But,  Jock,  lad,  ye  see  how  the  warld 
warstles  wi'  me  on  my  death-bed;  be  kind  to  the  puir  creat- 
ures, the  Deanses  and  the  Butlers — be  kind  to  them,  Jock. 
Dinna  let  the  warld  get  a  grip  o'  ye,  Jock;  but  keep  the  gear 
thegither!  and  whate'er  ye  do,  dispone  Beersheba  at  no  rate. 
Let  the  creatures  stay  at  a  moderate  mailing,  and  hae  bite  and 
soup;  it  will  maybe  be  the  better  wi'  your  father  whare  he's 
gaun,  lad." 

After  these  contradictory  instructions,  the  Laird  felt  his 
mind  so  much  at  ease  that  he  drank  three  bumpers  of  brandy 
continuously,  and  "soughed  awa',"  as  Jenny  expressed  it,  in 
an  attempt  to  sing  "Deil  stick  the  minister." 

His  death  made  a  revolution  in  favour  of  the  distressed 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


99 


families.  John  Dumbie,  now  of  Dumbiedikes,  in  his  own 
right,  seemed  to  be  close  and  selfish  enough ;  but  wanted  the 
grasping  spirit  and  active  mind  of  his  father ;  and  his  guardian 
happened  to  agree  with  him  in  opinion  that  his  father's  dying 
recommendation  should  be  attended  to.  The  tenants,  there- 
fore, were  not  actually  turned  out  of  doors  among  the  snow 
wreaths,  and  were  allowed  wherewith  to  procure  buttermilk 
and  pease  bannocks,  which  they  ate  under  the  full  force  of  the 
original  malediction.  The  cottage  of  Deans,  called  Woodend, 
was  not  very  distant  from  that  at  Beersheba.  Formerly  there 
had  been  little  intercourse  between  the  families.  Deans  was 
a  sturdy  Scotchman,  with  all  sort  of  prejudices  against  the 
Southern,  and  the  spawn  of  the  Southern.  Moreover,  Deans 
was,  as  we  have  said,  a  stanch  Presbyterian,  of  the  most  rigid 
and  unbending  adherence  to  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  only 
possible  straight  line,  as  he  was  wont  to  express  himself,  be- 
tween right-hand  heats  and  extremes  and  left-hand  defections ; 
and,  therefore,  he  held  in  high  dread  and  horror  all  Independ- 
ents, and  whomsoever  he  supposed  allied  to  them. 

But,  notwithstanding  these  national  prejudices  and  religious 
professions,  Deans  and  the  widow  Butler  were  placed  in  such 
a  situation  as  naturally  and  at  length  created  some  intimacy 
between  the  families.  They  had  shared  a  common  danger  and 
a  mutual  deliverance.  They  needed  each  other's  assistance, 
like  a  company  who,  crossing  a  mountain  stream,  are  com- 
pelled to  cling  close  together,  lest  the  current  should  be  too 
powerful  for  any  who  are  not  thus  supported. 

On  nearer  acquaintance,  too,  Deans  abated  some  of  his  prej- 
udices. He  found  old  Mrs.  Butler,  though  not  thoroughly 
grounded  in  the  extent  and  bearing  of  the  real  testimony 
against  the  defections  of  the  times,  had  no  opinions  in  favour 
of  the  Independent  party ;  neither  was  she  an  Englishwoman. 
Therefore,  it  was  to  be  hoped  that,  though  she  was  the  widow 
of  an  enthusiastic  corporal  of  Cromwell's  dragoons,  her  grand- 
son might  be  neither  schismatic  nor  anti-national,  two  qualities 
concerning  which  Goodman  Deans  had  as  wholesome  a  terror 
as  against  Papists  and  Malignants.  Above  all,  for  Douce 
Davie  Deans  had  his  weak  side,  he  perceived  that  widow 


100 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Butler  looked  up  to  him  with  reverence,  listened  to  his  ad- 
vice, and  compounded  for  an  occasional  fling  at  the  doctrines 
of  her  deceased  husband,  to  which,  as  we  have  seen,  she  was 
by  no  means  warmly  attached,  in  consideration  of  the  valu- 
able counsels  which  the  Presbyterian  afforded  her  for  the 
management  of  her  little  farm.  These  usually  concluded 
with,  "  they  may  do  otherwise  in  England,  neighbour  Butler, 
for  aught  I  ken" ;  or,  "  it  may  be  different  in  foreign  parts" ; 
or,  "  they  wha  think  differently  on  the  great  foundation  of  our 
covenanted  reformation,  overturning  and  misguggling  the  gov- 
ernment and  discipline  of  the  kirk,  and  breaking  down  the 
carved  work  of  our  Zion,  might  be  for  sawing  the  craft  wi' 
aits;  but  I  say  pease,  pease."  And  as  his  advice  was  shrewd 
and  sensible,  though  conceitedly  given,  it  was  received  with 
gratitude,  and  followed  with  respect. 

The  intercourse  which  took  place  betwixt  the  families  at 
Beersheba  and  Woodend  became  strict  and  intimate,  at  a  very 
early  period,  betwixt  Eeuben  Butler,  with  whom  the  reader 
is  already  in  some  degree  acquainted,  and  Jeanie  Deans,  the 
only  child  of  Douce  Davie  Deans  by  his  first  wife,  "that 
singular  Christian  woman, "  as  he  was  wont  to  express  himself, 
"  whose  name  was  savoury  to  all  that  knew  her  for  a  desirable 
professor,  Christian  Menzies  in  Hochmagirdle. "  The  manner 
of  which  intimacy,  and  the  consequences  thereof,  we  now  pro- 
ceed to  relate. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Reuben  and  Rachel,  though  as  fond  as  doves, 
Were  yet  discreet  and  cautious  in  their  loves, 
Nor  would  attend  to  Cupid's  wild  commands, 
Till  cool  reflection  bade  them  join  their  hands. 
When  both  were  poor,  they  thought  it  argued  ill 
Of  hasty  love  to  make  them  poorer  still. 

Crabbe's  Parish  Register. 

While  widow  Butler  and  widower  Deans  struggled  with 
poverty,  and  the  hard  and  sterile  soil  of  those  "parts  and 
portions"  of  the  lands  of  Dumbiedikes  which  it  was  their  lot 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  101 


to  occupy,  it  became  gradually  apparent  that  Deans  was  to 
gain  the  strife,  and  his  ally  in  the  conflict  was  to  lose  it.  The 
former  was  a  man,  and  not  much  past  the  prime  of  life ;  Mrs. 
Butler  a  woman,  and  declined  into  the  vale  of  years.  This, 
indeed,  ought  in  time  to  have  been  balanced  by  the  circum- 
stance that  Eeuben  was  growing  up  to  assist  his  grandmoth- 
er's labours,  and  that  Jeanie  Deans,  as  a  girl,  could  be  only 
supposed  to  add  to  her  father's  burdens.  •  But  Douce  Davie 
Deans  knew  better  things,  and  so  schooled  and  trained  the 
young  minion,  as  he  called  her,  that  from  the  time  she  could 
walk,  upwards,  she  was  daily  employed  in  some  task  or  other 
suitable  to  her  age  and  capacity ;  a  circumstance  which,  added 
to  her  father's  daily  instructions  and  lectures,  tended  to  give 
her  mind,  even  when  a  child,  a  grave,  serious,  firm,  and  re- 
flecting cast.  An  uncommonly  strong  and  healthy  tempera- 
ment free  from  all  nervous  affection  and  every  other  irregu- 
larity, which,  attacking  the  body  in  its  more  noble  functions, 
so  often  influences  the  mind,  tended  greatly  to  establish  this 
fortitude,  simplicity,  and  decision  of  character. 

On  the  other  hand,  Beuben  was  weak  in  constitution,  and, 
though  not  timid  in  temper,  might  be  safely  pronounced  anx- 
ious, doubtful,  and  apprehensive.  He  partook  of  the  tempera- 
ment of  his  mother,  who  had  died  of  a  consumption  in  early 
age.  He  was  a  pale,  thin,  feeble,  sickly  boy,  and  somewhat 
lame,  from  an  accident  in  early  youth.  He  was,  besides,  the 
child  of  a  doting  grandmother,  whose  too  solicitous  attention 
to  him  soon  taught  him  a  sort  of  diffidence  in  himself,  with  a 
disposition  to  overrate  his  own  importance,  which  is  one  of  the 
very  worst  consequences  that  children  deduce  from  over-in- 
dulgence. 

Still,  however,  the  two  children  clung  to  each  other's  society, 
not  more  from  habit  than  from  taste.  They  herded  together 
the  handful  of  sheep,  with  the  two  or  three  cows,  which  their 
parents  turned  out  rather  to  seek  food  than  actually  to  feed 
upon  the  uninclosed  common  of  Dumbiedikes.  It  was  there 
that  the  two  urchins  might  be  seen  seated  beneath  a  blooming 
bush  of  whin,  their  little  faces  laid  close  together  under  the 
shadow  of  the  same  plaid  drawn  over  both  their  heads,  while 


102 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  landscape  around  was  embrowned  by  an  overshadowing 
cloud,  big  with  the  shower  which  had  driven  the  children  to 
shelter.  On  other  occasions  they  went  together  to  school,  the 
boy  receiving  that  encouragement  and  example  from  his  com- 
panion, in  crossing  the  little  brooks  which  intersected  their 
path,  and  encountering  cattle,  dogs,  and  other  perils  upon  their 
journey,  which  the  male  sex  in  such  cases  usually  consider  it  as 
their  prerogative  to  extend  to  the  weaker.  But  when,  seated 
on  the  benches  of  the  school-house,  they  began  to  con  their  les- 
sons together,  Reuben,  who  was  as  much  superior  to  Jeanie 
Deans  in  acuteness  of  intellect  as  inferior  to  her  in  firmness 
of  constitution,  and  in  that  insensibility  to  fatigue  and  danger 
which  depends  on  the  conformation  of  the  nerves,  was  able 
fully  to  requite  the  kindness  and  countenance  with  which,  in 
other  circumstances,  she  used  to  regard  him.  He  was  decid- 
edly the  best  scholar  at  the  little  parish  school;  and  so  gentle 
was  his  temper  and  disposition,  that  he  was  rather  admired 
than  envied  by  the  little  mob  who  occupied  the  noisy  man- 
sion, although  he  was  the  declared  favourite  of  the  master. 
Several  girls,  in  particular  (for  in  Scotland  they  are  taught 
with  the  boys),  longed  to  be  kind  to  and  comfort  the  sickly 
lad,  who  was  so  much  cleverer  than  his  companions.  The 
character  of  Eeuben  Butler  was  so  calculated  as  to  offer  scope 
both  for  their  sympathy  and  their  admiration,  the  feelings, 
perhaps,  through  which  the  female  sex,  the  more  deserving 
part  of  them  at  least,  is  more  easily  attached. 

But  Reuben,  naturally  reserved  and  distant,  improved  none 
of  these  advantages ;  and  only  became  more  attached  to  Jea'nie 
Deans,  as  the  enthusiastic  approbation  of  his  master  assured 
him  of  fair  prospects  in  future  life,  and  awakened  his  ambi- 
tion. In  the  mean  time,  every  advance  that  Reuben  made  in 
learning  (and,  considering  his  opportunities,  they  were  un- 
commonly great)  rendered  him  less  capable  of  attending  to 
the  domestic  duties  of  his  grandmother's  farm.  While  study- 
ing the  pons  asinornm  in  Euclid,  he  suffered  every  "  cuddie  " 
upon  the  common  to  trespass  upon  a  large  field  of  pease  be- 
longing to  the  Laird,  and  nothing  but  the  active  exertions  of 
Jeanie  Deans,  with  her  little  dog  Dustiefoot,  could  have  saved 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


103 


great  loss  and  consequent  punishment.  Similar  miscarriages 
marked  his  progress  in  his  classical  studies.  He  read  Virgil's 
Georgics  till  he  did  not  know  bear  from  barley ;  and  had  nearly 
destroyed  the  crofts  of  Beersheba  while  attempting  to  culti- 
vate them  according  to  the  practice  of  Columella  and  Cato 
the  Censor. 

These  blunders  ocasioned  grief  to  his  grand-dame,  and  dis- 
concerted the  good  opinion  which  her  neighbour,  Davie  Deans, 
had  for  some  time  entertained  of  Reuben. 

"  I  see  naething  ye  can  make  of  that  silly  callant,  neighbour 
Butler, "  said  he  to  the  old  lady,  "  unless  ye  train  him  to  the 
wark  o'  the  ministry.  And  ne'er  was  there  mair  need  of 
poorfu'  preachers  than  e'en  now  in  these  cauld  Gallio  days, 
when  men's  hearts  are  hardened  like  the  nether  millstone,  till 
they  come  to  regard  none  of  these  things.  It's  evident  this 
puir  callant  of  yours  will  never  be  able  to  do  an  usefu'  day's 
wark,  unless  it  be  as  an  ambassador  from  our  Master ;  and  I 
will  make  it  my  business  to  procure  a  license  when  he  is  fit 
for  the  same,  trusting  he  will  be  a  shaft  cleanly  polished,  and 
meet  to  be  used  in  the  body  of  the  kirk,  and  that  he  shall  not 
turn  again,  like  the  sow,  to  wallow  in  the  mire  of  heretical 
extremes  and  defections,  but  shall  have  the  wings  of  a  dove, 
though  he  hath  lain  among  the  pots." 

The  poor  widow  gulped  down  the  affront  to  her  husband's 
principles  implied  in  this  caution,  and  hastened  to  take  Butler 
from  the  High  School,  and  encourage  him  in  the  pursuit  of 
mathematics  and  divinity,  the  only  physics  and  ethics  that 
chanced  to  be  in  fashion  at  the  time. 

Jeanie  Deans  was  now  compelled  to  part  from  the  compan- 
ion of  her  labour,  her  study,  and  her  pastime,  and  it  was  with 
more  than  childish  feeling  that  both  children  regarded  the 
separation.  But  they  were  young,  and  hope  was  high,  and 
they  separated  like  those  who  hope  to  meet  again  at  a  more 
auspicious  hour. 

While  Reuben  Butler  was  acquiring  at  the  University  of  St. 
Andrews  the  knowledge  necessary  for  a  clergyman,  and  macer- 
ating his  body  with  the  privations  which  were  necessary  in 
seeking  food  for  his  mind,  his  grand-dame  became  daily  less 


104 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


able  to  struggle  with  her  little  farm,  and  was  at  length  obliged 
to  throw  it  up  to  the  new  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes.  That  great 
personage  was  no  absolute  Jew,  and  did  not  cheat  her  in  mak- 
ing the  bargain  more  than  was  tolerable.  He  even  gave  her 
permission  to  tenant  the  house  in  which  she  had  lived  with 
her  husband,  as  long  as  it  should  be  "  tenantable  " ;  only  he 
protested  against  paying  for  a  farthing  of  repairs,  any  benev- 
olence which  he  possessed  being  of  the  passive,  but  by  no 
means  of  the  active  mood. 

In  the  mean  while,  from  superior  shrewdness,  skill,  and 
other  circumstances,  some  of  them  purely  accidental,  Davie 
Deans  gained  a  footing  in  the  world,  the  possession  of  some 
wealth,  the  reputation  of  more,  and  a  growing  disposition  to 
preserve  and  increase  his  store,  for  which,  when  he  thought 
upon  it  seriously,  he  was  inclined  to  blame  himself.  From  his 
knowledge  in  agriculture,  as  it  was  then  practised,  he  became  a 
sort  of  favourite  with  the  Laird,  who  had  no  pleasure  either 
in  active  sports  or  in  society,  and  was  wont  to  end  his  daily 
saunter  by  calling  at  the  cottage  of  Woodend. 

Being  himself  a  man  of  slow  ideas  and  confused  utterance, 
Dumbiedikes  used  to  sit  or  stand  for  half  an  hour  with  an  old 
laced  hat  of  his  father's  upon  his  head,  and  an  empty  tobacco- 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  with  his  eyes  following  Jeanie  Deans,  or 
"  the  lassie, "  as  he  called  her,  through  the  course  of  her  daily 
domestic  labour ;  while  her  father,  after  exhausting  the  sub- 
ject of  bestial,  of  ploughs,  and  of  harrows,  often  took  an  op- 
portunity of  going  full- sail  into  controversial  subjects,  to  which 
discussions  the  dignitary  listened  with  much  seeming  patience, 
but  without  making  any  reply,  or,  indeed,  as  most  people 
thought,  without  understanding  a  single  word  of  what  the 
orator  was  saying.  Deans,  indeed,  denied  this  stoutly,  as  an 
insult  at  once  to  his  own  talents  for  expounding  hidden  truths, 
of  which  he  was  a  little  vain,  and  to  the  Laird's  capacity  of 
understanding  them.  He  said :  "  Dumbiedikes  was  nane  of 
these  flashy  gentles,  wi'  lace  on  their  skirts  and  swords  at 
their  tails,  that  were  rather  for  riding  on  horseback  to  hell 
than  ganging  barefooted  to  Heaven.  He  wasna  like  his  fa- 
ther— nae  profane  company-keeper,  nae  swearer,  nae  drinker, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


105 


nae  frequenter  of  play-house,  or  music-house,  or  dancing- 
house,  nae  Sabbath-breaker,  nae  imposer  of  aiths,  or  bonds, 
or  denier  of  liberty  to  the  flock.  He  clave  to  the  warld,  and 
the  warld's  gear,  a  wee  ower  muckle,  but  then  there  was  some 
breathing  of  a  gale  upon  his  spirit, "  etc.,  etc.  All  this  honest 
Davie  said  and  believed. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that,  by  a  father  and  a  man  of 
sense  and  observation,  the  constant  direction  of  the  Laird's 
eyes  towards  J eanie  was  altogether  unnoticed.  This  circum- 
stance, however,  made  a  much  greater  impression  upon  an- 
other member  of  his  family,  a  second  helpmate,  to  wit,  whom 
he  had  chosen  to  take  to  his  bosom  ten  years  after  the  death  of 
his  first.  Some  people  were  of  opinion  that  Douce  Davie  had 
been  rather  surprised  into  this  step,  for  in  general  he  was  no 
friend  to  marriages  or  giving  in  marriage,  and  seemed  rather 
to  regard  that  state  of  society  as  a  necessary  evil — a  thing 
lawful,  and  to  be  tolerated  in  the  imperfect  state  of  our  na- 
ture, but  which  clipped  the  wings  with  which  we  ought  to 
soar  upwards,  and  tethered  the  soul  to  its  mansion  of 
clay,  and  the  creature-comforts  of  wife  and  bairns.  His 
own  practice,  however,  had  in  this  material  point  varied 
from  his  principles,  since,  as  we  have  seen,  he  twice 
knitted  for  himself  this  dangerous  and  ensnaring  entangle- 
ment. 

Kebecca,  his  spouse,  had  by  no  means  the  same  horror  of 
matrimony,  and  as  she  made  marriages  in  imagination  for 
every  neighbour  round,  she  failed  not  to  indicate  a  match  be- 
twixt Dumbiedikes  and  her  stepdaughter  Jeanie.  The  good 
man  used  regularly  to  frown  and  pshaw  whenever  this  topic 
was  touched  upon,  but  usually  ended  by  taking  his  bonnet 
and  walking  out  of  the  house  to  conceal  a  certain  gleam  of 
satisfaction  which,  at  such  a  suggestion,  involuntarily  diffused 
itself  over  his  austere  features. 

The  more  youthful  part  of  my  readers  may  naturally  ask 
whether  Jeanie  Deans  was  deserving  of  this  mute  attention 
of  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes ;  and  the  historian,  with  due  re- 
gard to  veracity,  is  compelled  to  answer  that  her  personal  at- 
tractions were  of  no  uncommon  description.    She  was  short, 


106 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  rather  too  stoutly  made  for  her  size,  had  grey  eyes,  light- 
coloured  hair,  a  round  good-humoured  face  much  tanned  with 
the  sun,  and  her  only  peculiar  charm  was  an  air  of  inexpres- 
sible serenity,  with  which  a  good  conscience,  kind  feelings, 
contented  temper,  and  the  regular  discharge  of  all  her  duties, 
spread  over  her  features.  There  was  nothing,  it  may  be  sup- 
posed, very  appalling  in  the  form  or  manners  of  this  rustic 
heroine;  yet,  whether  from  sheepish  bashfulness,  or  from  want 
of  decision  and  imperfect  knowledge  of  his  own  mind  on  the 
subject,  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  with  his  old  laced  hat  and 
empty  tobacco-pipe,  came  and  enjoyed  the  beatific  vision  of 
Jeanie  Deans  day  after  day,  week  after  week,  year  after  year, 
without  proposing  to  accomplish  any  of  the  prophecies  of  the 
stepmother. 

This  good  lady  began  to  grow  duly  impatient  on  the  subject 
when,  after  having  been  some  years  married,  she  herself  pre- 
sented Douce  Davie  with  another  daughter,  who  was  named 
Euphemia,  by  corruption  Effie.  It  was  then  that  Eebecca 
began  to  turn  impatient  with  the  slow  pace  at  which  the 
Laird's  wooing  proceeded,  judiciously  arguing  that,  as  Lady 
Dumbiedikes  would  have  but  little  occasion  for  tocher,  the 
principal  part  of  her  gudeman's  substance  would  naturally  de- 
scend to  the  child  by  the  second  marriage.  Other  step-dames 
have  tried  less  laudable  means  for  clearing  the  way  to  the 
succession  of  their  own  children;  but  Eebecca,  to  do  her  jus- 
tice, only  sought  little  Effie' s  advantage  through  the  promo- 
tion, or  which  must  have  generally  been  accounted  such,  of 
her  elder  sister.  She  therefore  tried  every  female  art  within 
the  compass  of  her  simple  skill  to  bring  the  Laird  to  a  point ; 
but  had  the  mortification  to  perceive  that  her  efforts,  like 
those  of  an  unskilled  angler,  only  scared  the  trout  she  meant 
to  catch.  Upon  one  occasion,  in  particular,  when  she  joked 
with  the  Laird  on  the  propriety  of  giving  a  mistress  to  the 
house  of  Dumbiedikes,  he  was  so  effectually  startled  that  nei- 
ther laced  hat,  tobacco-pipe,  nor  the  intelligent  proprietor  of 
these  movables,  visited  Woodend  for  a  fortnight.  Eebecca 
was  therefore  compelled  to  leave  the  Laird  to  proceed  at  his 
own  snail's  pace,  convinced  by  experience  of  the  grave-dig- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


107 


ger's  aphorism,  that  your  dull  ass  will  not  mend  his  pace  for 
beating. 

Reuben  in  the  mean  time  pursued  his  studies  at  the  univer- 
sity, supplying  his  wants  by  teaching  the  younger  lads  the 
knowledge  he  himself  acquired,  and  thus  at  once  gaining  the 
means  of  maintaining  himself  at  the  seat  of  learning  and  fix- 
ing in  his  mind  the  elements  of  what  he  had  already  obtained. 
In  this  manner,  as  is  usual  among  the  poorer  students  of  di- 
vinity at  Scottish  universities,  he  contrived  not  only  to  main- 
tain himself  according  to  his  simple  wants,  but  even  to  send 
considerable  assistance  to  his  sole  remaining  parent,  a  sacred 
duty  of  which  the  Scotch  are  seldom  negligent.  His  progress 
in  knowledge  of  a  general  kind,  as  well  as  in  the  studies  pro- 
per to  his  profession,  was  very  considerable,  but  was  little  re- 
marked, owing  to  the  retired  modesty  of  his  disposition,  which 
in  no  respect  qualified  him  to  set  off  his  learning  to  the  best 
advantage.  And  thus,  had  Butler  been  a  man  given  to  make 
complaints,  he  had  his  tale  to  tell,  like  others,  of  unjust  pref- 
erences, bad  luck,  and  hard  usage.  On  these  subjects,  how- 
ever, he  was  habitually  silent,  perhaps  from  modesty,  perhaps 
from  a  touch  of  pride,  or  perhaps  from  a  conjunction  of  both. 

He  obtained  his  license  as  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  with 
some  compliments  from  the  presbytery  by  whom  it  was  be- 
stowed ;  but  this  did  not  lead  to  any  preferment,  and  he  found 
it  necessary  to  make  the  cottage  at  Beersheba  his  residence 
for  some  months,  with  no  other  income  than  was  afforded  by 
the  precarious  occupation  of  teaching  in  one  or  other  of  the 
neighbouring  families.  After  having  greeted  his  aged  grand- 
mother, his  first  visit  was  to  Woodend,  where  he  was  received 
by  Jeanie  with  warm  cordiality,  arising  from  recollections 
which  had  never  been  dismissed  from  her  mind,  by  Rebecca 
with  good-humoured  hospitality,  and  by  old  Deans  in  a  mode 
peculiar  to  himself. 

Highly  as  Douce  Davie  honoured  the  clergy,  it  was  not 
upon  each  individual  of  the  cloth  that  he  bestowed  his  appro- 
bation; and,  a  little  jealous,  perhaps,  at  seeing  Lis  youthful 
acquaintance  erected  into  the  dignity  of  a  teacher  and  preach- 
er, he  instantly  attacked  him  upon  various  points  of  contro- 


108 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


versy,  in  order  to  discover  whether  he  might  not  have  fallen 
into  some  of  the  snares,  defections,  and  desertions  of  the 
time.  Butler  was  not  only  a  man  of  stanch  Presbyterian  prin- 
ciples, but  was  also  willing  to  avoid  giving  pain  to  his  friend 
by  disputing  upon  points  of  little  importance ;  and  therefore 
he  might  have  hoped  to  have  come  like  refined  gold  out  of  the 
the  furnace  of  Davie's  interrogatories.  But  the  result  on  the 
mind  of  that  strict  investigator  was  not  altogether  so  favour- 
able as  might  have  been  hoped  and  anticipated.  Old  Judith 
Butler,  who  had  hobbled  that  evening  as  far  as  Woodend,  in 
order  to  enjoy  the  congratulations  of  her  neighbors  upon  Reu- 
ben's return,  and  upon  his  high  attainments,  of  which  she 
was  herself  not  a  little  proud,  was  somewhat  mortified  to  find 
that  her  old  friend  Deans  did  not  enter  into  the  subject  with 
the  warmth  she  expected.  At  first,  indeed,  he  seemed  rather 
silent  than  dissatisfied;  and  it  was  not  till  Judith  had  es- 
sayed the  subject  more  than  once  that  it  led  to  the  following 
dialogue : 

"  Aweel,  neighbor  Deans,  I  thought  ye  wad  hae  been  glad 
to  see  Reuben  amang  us  again,  poor  fallow." 

"I  am  glad,  Mrs.  Butler,"  was  the  neighbour's  concise 
answer. 

"  Since  he  has  lost  his  grandfather  and  his  father — praised 
be  Him  that  giveth  and  taketh! — I  ken  nae  friend  he  has  in 
the  world  that's  been  sae  like  a  father  to  him  as  the  sell  o'  ye, 
neibor  Deans." 

"  God  is  the  only  Father  of  the  fatherless, "  said  Deans, 
touching  his  bonnet  and  looking  upwards.  "  Give  honour 
where  it  is  due,  gudewif e,  and  not  to  an  unworthy  instrument. " 

"Aweel,  that's  your  way  o'  turning  it,  and  nae  doubt  ye 
ken  best.  But  I  hae  kenn'd  ye,  Davie,  send  a  forpit  o'  meal 
to  Beersheba  when  there  wasna  a  bow  left  in  the  meal-ark  at 
Woodend;  ay,  and  I  hae  kenn'd  ye  " 

"  Gudewif  e, "  said  Davie,  interrupting  her,  "  these  are  but 
idle  tales  to  tell  me,  fit  for  naething  but  to  puff  up  our  inward 
man  wi'  our  ain  vain  acts.  I  stude  beside  blessed  Alexander 
Peden,  when  I  heard  him  call  the  death  and  testimony  of  our 
happy  martyrs  but  draps  of  bluid  and  scarts  of  ink  in  respect 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


109 


of  fitting  discharge  of  our  duty ;  and  what  suld  I  think  of  ony 
thing  the  like  of  me  can  do?" 

"  Weel,  neibor  Deans,  ye  ken  best ;  but  I  maun  say  that  I 
am  sure  you  are  glad  to  see  my  bairn  again.  The  halt's  gane 
now,  unless  he  has  to  walk  ower  mony  miles  at  a  stretch;  and 
he  has  a  wee  bit  colour  in  his  cheek,  that  glads  my  auld  een 
to  see  it;  and  he  has  as  decent  a  black  coat  as  the  minister; 
and  " 

"  I  am  very  heartily  glad  he  is  weel  and  thriving, "  said 
Mr.  Deans,  with  a  gravity  that  seemed  intended  to  cut  short 
the  subject;  but  a  woman  who  is  bent  upon  a  point  is  not 
easily  pushed  aside  from  it. 

"  And, "  continued  Mrs.  Butler,  "  he  can  wag  his  head  in  a 
pulpit  now,  neibor  Deans,  think  but  of  that — my  ain  oe — 
and  a'body  maun  sit  still  and  listen  to  him,  as  if  he  were  the 
Paip  of  Rome." 

"The  what?  the  who,  woman?"  said  Deans,  with  a  stern- 
ness far  beyond  his  usual  gravity,  as  soon  as  these  offensive 
words  had  struck  upon  the  tympanum  of  his  ear. 

"Eh,  guide  us!"  said  the  poor  woman;  "I  had  forgot  what 
an  ill  will  ye  had  aye  at  the  Paip,  and  sae  had  my  gudeman, 
Stephen  Butler.  Mony  an  afternoon  he  wad  sit  and  take  up 
his  testimony  again  the  Paip,  and  again  baptizing  of  bairns, 
and  the  like." 

"Woman,"  reiterated  Deans,  "either  speak  about  what  ye 
ken  something  o?,  or  be  silent.  I  say  that  Independency  its 
a  foul  heresy,  and  Ana  baptism  a  damnable  and  deceiving  er- 
ror, whilk  suld  be  rooted  out  of  the  land  wi?  the  fire  o'  the 
spiritual  and  the  sword  o;  the  civil  magistrate." 

"Weel,  weel,  neibor,  I'll  no  say  that  ye  mayna  be  right," 
answered  the  submissive  Judith.  "  I  am  sure  ye  are  right  about 
the  sawing  and  the  mawing,  the  shearing  and  the  leading,  and 
what  for  suld  ye  no  be  right  about  kirk-wark,  too?  But  con- 
cerning my  oe,  Reuben  Butler  " 

"  Reuben  Butler,  gudewif e, "  said  David  with  solemnity,  "  is 
a  lad  I  wish  heartily  weel  to,  even  as  if  he  were  mine  ain  son ; 
but  I  doubt  there  will  be  outs  and  ins  in  the  track  of  his  walk. 
I  muckle  fear  his  gifts  will  get  the  heels  of  his  grace.  He 


110 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


lias  ower  muckle  human  wit  and  learning,  and  thinks  as 
muckle  about  the  form  of  the  bicker  as  he  does  about  the 
healsomeness  of  the  food;  he  maun  broider  the  marriage-gar- 
ment with  lace  and  passments,  or  it's  no  gude  eneugh  for  him. 
And  it's  like  he's  something  proud  o'  his  human  gifts  and 
learning,  whilk  enables  him  to  dress  up  his  doctrine  in  that 
fine  airy  dress.  But,"  added  he,  at  seeing  the  old  woman's 
uneasiness  at  his  discourse,  "  affliction  may  gie  him  a  jagg, 
and  let  the  wind  out  o'  him,  as  out  o'  a  cow  that's  eaten  wet 
clover,  and  the  lad  may  do  weel,  and  be  a  burning  and  a  shin- 
ing light ;  and  I  trust  it  will  be  yours  to  see,  and  his  to  feel 
it,  and  that  soon." 

Widow  Butler  was  obliged  to  retire,  unable  to  make  any- 
thing more  of  her  neighbour,  whose  discourse,  though  she  did 
not  comprehend  it,  filled  her  with  undefined  apprehensions  on 
her  grandson's  account,  and  greatly  depressed  the  joy  with 
which  she  had  welcomed  him  on  his  return.  And  it  must  not 
be  concealed,  in  justice  to  Mr.  Deans's  discernment,  that  But- 
ler, in  their  conference,  had  made  a  greater  display  of  his 
learning  than  the  occasion  called  for,  or  than  was  likely  to  be 
acceptable  to  the  old  man,  who,  accustomed  to  consider  him- 
self as  a  person  pre-eminently  entitled  to  dictate  upon  theo- 
logical subjects  of  controversy,  felt  rather  humbled  and  mor- 
tified when  learned  authorities  were  placed  in  array  against 
him.  In  fact  Butler  had  not  escaped  the  tinge  of  pedantry 
which  naturally  flowed  from  his  education,  and  was  apt,  on 
many  occasions,  to  make  parade  of  his  knowledge,  when  there 
was  no  need  of  such  vanity. 

Jeanie  Deans,  however,  found  no  fault  with  this  display  of 
learning,  but,  on  the  contrary,  admired  it;  perhaps  on  the 
same  score  that  her  sex  are  said  to  admire  men  of  courage,  on 
account  of  their  own  deficiency  in  that  qualification.  The 
cirumstances  of  their  families  threw  the  young  people  con- 
stantly together ;  their  old  intimacy  was  renewed,  though  upon 
a  footing  better  adapted  to  their  age ;  and  it  became  at  length 
understood  betwixt  them  that  their  union  should  be  deferred 
no  longer  than  until  Butler  should  obtain  some  steady  means 
of  support,  however  humble.    This,  however,  was  not  a  mat- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


Ill 


ter  speedily  accomplished.  Plan  after  plan  was  formed,  and 
plan  after  plan  failed.  The  good-humoured  cheek  of  Jeanie 
lost  the  first  flush  of  juvenile  freshness;  Eeuben's  brow  as- 
sumed the  gravity  of  manhood ;  yet  the  means  of  obtaining  a 
settlement  seemed  remote  as  ever.  Fortunately  for  the  lov- 
ers, their  passion  was  of  no  ardent  or  enthusiastic  cast ;  and  a 
sense  of  duty  on  both  sides  induced  them  to  bear  with  patient 
fortitude  the  protracted  interval  which  divided  them  from 
each  other. 

In  the  mean  while,  time  did  not  roll  on  without  effecting 
his  usual  changes.  The  widow  of  Stephen  Butler,  so  long 
the  prop  of  the  family  of  Beersheba,  was  gathered  to  her  fa- 
thers ;  and  Rebecca,  the  careful  spouse  of  our  friend  Davie 
Deans,  was  also  summoned  from  her  plans  of  matrimonial  and 
domestic  economy.  The  morning  after  her  death,  Reuben 
Butler  went  to  offer  his  mite  of  consolation  to  his  old  friend 
and  benefactor.  He  witnessed,  on  this  occasion,  a  remarkable 
struggle  betwixt  the  force  of  natural  affection  and  the  relig- 
ious stoicism  which  the  sufferer  thought  it  was  incumbent 
upon  him  to  maintain  under  each  earthly  dispensation,  wheth- 
er of  weal  or  woe. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  cottage,  Jeanie,  with  her  eyes  over- 
flowing with  tears,  pointed  to  the  little  orchard,  "  in  which, " 
she  whispered  with  broken  accents,  "  my  poor  father  has  been 
since  his  misfortune."  Somewhat  alarmed  at  this  account, 
Butler  entered  the  orchard,  and  advanced  slowly  towards  his 
old  friend,  who,  seated  in  a  small  rude  arbour,  appeared  to 
be  sunk  in  the  extremity  of  his  affliction.  He  lifted  his 
eyes  somewhat  sternly  as  Butler  approached,  as  if  offend- 
ed at  the  interruption;  but  as  the  young  man  hesitated 
whether  he  ought  to  retreat  or  advance,  he  arose  and  came 
forward  to  meet  him  with  a  self-possessed  and  even  dignified 
air. 

"  Young  man,"  said  the  sufferer,  "  lay  it  not  to  heart  though 
the  righteous  perish  and  the  merciful  are  removed,  seeing  it 
may  well  be  said,  that  they  are  taken  away  from  the  evils  to 
come.  Woe  to  me,  were  I  to  shed  a  tear  for  the  wife  of  my 
bosom,  when  I  might  weep  rivers  of  water  for  this  afflicted 


112 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


church,  cursed  as  it  is  with  carnal  seekers  and  with  the  dead 
of  heart." 

"  I  am  happy/'  said  Butler,  "that  you  can  forget  your  pri- 
vate affliction  in  your  regard  for  public  duty." 

"  Forget,  Keuben?"  said  poor  Deans,  putting  his  handker- 
chief to  his  eyes.  "  She's  not  to  be  forgotten  on  this  side  of 
time;  but  He  that  gives  the  wound  can  send  the  ointment.  I 
declare  there  have  been  times  during  this  night  when  my 
meditation  has  been  so  wrapt  that  I  knew  not  of  my  heavy 
loss.  It  has  been  with  me  as  with  the  worthy  John  Semple, 
called  Carspharn  John,1  upon  a  like  trial:  I  have  been  this 
night  on  the  banks  of  Ulai,  plucking  an  apple  here  and  there. " 

Notwithstanding  the  assumed  fortitude  of  Deans,  which  he 
conceived  to  be  the  discharge  of  a  great  Christian  duty,  he 
had  too  good  a  heart  not  to  surfer  deeply  under  this  heavy 
loss.  Woodend  became  altogether  distasteful  to  him;  and  as 
he  had  obtained  both  substance  and  experience  by  his  man- 
agement of  that  little  farm,  he  resolved  to  employ  them  as  a 
dairy-farmer,  or  cow-feeder,  as  they  are  called  in  Scotland. 
The  situation  he  chose  for  his  new  settlement  was  at  a  place 
called  St.  Leonard's  Crags,  lying  betwixt  Edinburgh  and  the 
mountain  called  Arthur's  Seat,  and  adjoining  to  the  extensive 
sheep  pasture  still  named  the  King's  Park,  from  its  having 
been  formerly  dedicated  to  the  preservation  of  the  royal  game. 
Here  he  rented  a  small  lonely  house,  about  half  a  mile  distant 
from  the  nearest  point  of  the  city,  but  the  site  of  which,  with 
all  the  adjacent  ground,  is  now  occupied  by  the  buildings 
which  form  the  southeastern  suburb.  An  extensive  pasture- 
ground  adjoining,  which  Deans  rented  from  the  keeper  of  the 
Eoyal  Park,  enabled  him  to  feed  his  milk-cows ;  and  the  un- 
ceasing industry  and  activity  of  Jeanie,  his  eldest  daughter, 
was  exerted  in  making  the  most  of  their  produce. 

She  had  now  less  frequent  opportunities  of  seeing  Reuben, 
who  had  been  obliged,  after  various  disappointments,  to  ac- 
cept the  subordinate  situation  of  assistant  in  a  parochial 
school  of  some  eminence  at  three  or  four  miles'  distance  from 
the  city.  Here  he  distinguished  himself,  and  became  ac- 
1  See  Note  15. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


113 


quainted  with  several  respectable  burgesses,  who,  on  account 
of  health  or  other  reasons,  chose  that  their  children  should 
commence  their  education  in  this  little  village.  His  pros- 
pects were  thus  gradually  brightening,  and  upon  each  visit 
which  he  paid  at  St.  Leonard's  he  had  an  opportunity  of  glid- 
ing a  hint  to  this  purpose  into  Jeanie's  ear.  These  visits  were 
necessarily  very  rare,  on  account  of  the  demands  which  the 
duties  of  the  school  made  upon  Butler's  time.  Nor  did  he 
dare  to  make  them  even  altogether  so  frequent  as  these  avo- 
cations would  permit.  Deans  received  him  with  civility  in- 
deed, and  even  with  kindness;  but  Reuben,  as  is  usual  in 
such  cases,  imagined  that  he  read  his  purpose  in  his  eyes,  and 
was  afraid  too  premature  an  explanation  on  the  subject  would 
draw  down  his  positive  disapproval.  Upon  the  whole,  there- 
fore, he  judged  it  prudent  to  call  at  St.  Leonard's  just  so 
frequently  as  old  acquaintance  and  neighbourhood  seemed  to 
authorise,  and  no  oftener.  There  was  another  person  who 
was  more  regular  in  his  visits. 

When  Davie  Deans  intimated  to  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes 
his  purpose  of  "  quitting  wi'  the  land  and  house  at  Wood- 
end,"  the  Laird  stared  and  said  nothing.  He  made  his  usual 
visits  at  the  usual  hour  without  remark,  until  the  day  before 
the  term,  when,  observing  the  bustle  of  moving  furniture  al- 
ready commenced,  the  great  east-country  "awmrie"  dragged 
out  of  its  nook,  and  standing  with  its  shoulder  to  the  com- 
pany, like  an  awkward  booby  about  to  leave  the  room,  the 
Laird  again  stared  mightily,  and  was  heard  to  ejaculate, 
"Hegh,  sirs!"  Even  after  the  day  of  departure  was  past  and 
gone,  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  at  his  usual  hour,  which 
was  that  at  which  David  Deans  was  wont  to  "loose  the 
pleugh,"  presented  himself  before  the  closed  door  of  the  cot- 
tage at  Woodend,  and  seemed  as  much  astonished  at  finding 
it  shut  against  his  approach  as  if  it  was  not  exactly  what  he 
had  to  expect.  On  this  occasion  he  was  heard  to  ejaculate, 
"Gude  guide  us!"  which,  by  those  who  knew  him,  was  con- 
sidered  as  a  very  unusual  mark  of  emotion.  From  that  mo- 
ment forward,  Dumbiedikes  became  an  altered  man,  and  the 
regularity  of  his  movements,  hitherto  so  exemplary,  was  as  to- 
8 


114 


WAVEKLEY  NOVELS. 


tally  disconcerted  as  those  of  a  boy's  watch  when  he  has  broken 
the  main-spring.  Like  the  index  of  the  said  watch,  did  Dum- 
biedikes  spin  round  the  whole  bounds  of  his  little  property, 
which  may  be  likened  unto  the  dial  of  the  timepiece,  with  un- 
wonted velocity.  There  was  not  a  cottage  into  which  he  did 
not  enter,  nor  scarce  a  maiden  on  whom  he  did  not  stare. 
But  so  it  was,  that,  although  there  were  better  farm-houses  on 
the  land  than  Woodend,  and  certainly  much  prettier  girls  than 
Jeanie  Deans,  yet  it  did  somehow  befall  that  the  blank  in  the 
Laird's  time  was  not  so  pleasantly  filled  up  as  it  had  been. 
There  was  no  seat  accommodated  him  so  well  as  the  "  bunker" 
at  Woodend,  and  no  face  he  loved  so  much  to  gaze  on  as 
Jeanie  Dean's.  So,  after  spinning  round  and  round  his  little 
orbit,  and  then  remaining  stationary  for  a  week,  it  seems  to 
have  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  not  pinned  down  to  circu- 
late on  a  pivot,  like  the  hands  of  the  watch,  but  possessed 
the  power  of  shifting  his  central  point  and  extending  his  cir- 
cle if  he  thought  proper.  To  realise  which  privilege  of  change 
of  place,  he  bought  a  pony  from  a  Highland  drover,  and  with 
its  assistance  and  company  stepped,  or  rather  stumbled,  as  far 
as  St.  Leonard's  Crags. 

Jeanie  Deans,  though  so  much  accustomed  to  the  Laird's 
staring  that  she  was  sometimes  scarce  conscious  of  his  pres- 
ence, had  nevertheless  some  occasional  fears  lest  he  should 
call  in  the  organ  of  speech  to  back  those  expressions  of  admi- 
ration which  he  bestowed  on  her  through  his  eyes.  Should 
this  happen,  farewell,  she  thought,  to  all  chance  of  an  union 
with  Butler.  For  her  father,  however  stout-hearted  and  in- 
dependent in  civil  and  religious  principles,  was  not  without 
that  respect  for  the  laird  of  the  land  so  deeply  imprinted  on 
the  Scottish  tenantry  of  the  period.  Moreover,  if  he  did  not 
positively  dislike  Butler,  yet  his  fund  of  carnal  learning  was 
often  the  object  of  sarcasms  on  David's  part,  which  were  per- 
haps founded  in  jealousy,  and  which  certainly  indicated  no 
partiality  for  the  party  against  whom  they  were  launched. 
And,  lastly,  the  match  with  Dumbiedikes  would  have  pre- 
sented irresistible  charms  to  one  who  used  to  complain  thaG 
he  felt  himself  apt  to  take  "  ower  grit  an  armfu'  o'  the  warld," 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


115 


So  that,  upon  the  whole,  the  Laird's  diurnal  visits  were  disa- 
greeable to  Jeanie  from  apprehension  of  future  consequences, 
and  it  served  much  to  console  her,  upon  removing  from  the 
spot  where  she  was  bred  and  born,  tnat  she  had  seen  the  last 
of  Dumbiedikes,  his  laced  hat,  and  tobacco-pipe.  The  poor 
girl  no  more  expected  he  could  muster  courage  to  follow  her 
to  St.  Leonard's  Crags  than  that  any  of  her  apple-trees  or 
cabbages,  which  she  had  left  rooted  in  the  "  yard  "  at  Wood- 
end,  would  spontaneously,  and  unaided,  have  undertaken  the 
same  journey.  It  was,  therefore,  with  much  more  surprise 
than  pleasure  that,  on  the  sixth  day  after  their  removal  to  St. 
Leonard's,  she  beheld  Dumbiedikes  arrive,  laced  hat,  tobacco- 
pipe,  and  all,  and,  with  the  self -same  greeting  of  "  How's  a' 
wi'  ye,  Jeanie?  Whare's  the  gudeman?"  assume  as  nearly 
as  he  could  the  same  position  in  the  cottage  at  St.  Leonard's 
which  he  had  so  long  and  so  regularly  occupied  at  Woodend. 
He  was  no  sooner,  however,  seated  than,  with  an  unusual  ex- 
ertion of  his  powers  of  conversation,  he  added,  "  Jeanie — I 
say,  Jeanie,  woman" ;  here  he  extended  his  hand  towards  her 
shoulder  with  all  the  fingers  spread  out  as  if  to  clutch  it,  but 
in  so  bashful  and  awkward  a  manner  that,  when  she  whisked 
herself  beyond  its  reach,  the  paw  remained  suspended  in  the 
air  with  the  palm  open,  like  the  claw  of  a  heraldic  griffin. 
"Jeanie,"  continued  the  swain,  in  this  moment  of  inspiration 
— "I  say,  Jeanie,  it's  a  braw  day  out-bye,  and  the  roads  are 
no  that  ill  for  boot-hose." 

"  The  deil's  in  the  daidling  body,"  muttered  Jeanie  between 
her  teeth ;  "  wha  wad  hae  thought  o'  his  daikering  out  this 
length?"  And  she  afterwards  confessed  that  she  threw  a  lit- 
tle of  this  ungracious  sentiment  into  her  accent  and  manner; 
for  her  father  being  abroad,  and  the  "  body, "  as  she  irrever- 
ently termed  the  landed  proprietor,  "  looking  unco  gleg  and 
canty,  she  didna  ken  what  he  might  be  coming  out  wi' 
next." 

Her  frowns,  however,  acted  as  a  complete  sedative,  and  the 
Laird  relapsed  from  that  day  into  his  former  taciturn  habits, 
visiting  the  cow-feeder's  cottage  three  or  four  times  every 
week,  when  the  weather  permitted,  with  apparently  no  other 


116 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


purpose  than  to  stare  at  Jeanie  Deans,  while  Douce  Davie 
poured  forth  his  eloquence  upon  the  controversies  and  testi- 
monies of  the  day. 


CHAPTEE  X. 

Her  air,  her  manners,  all  who  saw  admired, 
Courteous,  though  coy,  and  gentle,  though  retired ; 
The  joy  of  youth  and  health  her  eyes  display'd, 
And  ease  of  heart  her  every  look  convey'd. 

Crabbe. 

The  visits  of  the  Laird  thus  again  sunk  into  matters  of  or- 
dinary course,  from  which  nothing  was  to  be  expected  or  ap- 
prehended. If  a  lover  could  have  gained  a  fair  one  as  a  snake 
is  said  to  fascinate  a  bird,  by  pertinaciously  gazing  on  her 
with  great  stupid  greenish  eyes,  which  began  now  to  be  occa- 
sionally aided  by  spectacles,  unquestionably  Dumbiedikes 
would  have  been  the  person  to  perform  the  feat.  But  the  art 
of  fascination  seemes  among  the  artes  yierditce,  and  I  cannot 
learn  that  this  most  pertinacious  of  starers  produced  any  effect 
by  his  attentions  beyond  an  occasional  yawn. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  object  of  his  gaze  was  gradually  at- 
taining the  verge  of  youth,  and  approaching  to  what  is  called 
in  females  the  middle  age,  which  is  impolitely  held  to  begin 
a  few  years  earlier  with  their  more  fragile  sex  than  with  men. 
Many  people  would  have  been  of  opinion  that  the  Laird  would 
have  done  better  to  have  transferred  his  glances  to  an  object 
possessed  of  far  superior  charms  to  Jeanie's,  even  when 
Jeanie' s  were  in  their  bloom,  who  began  now  to  be  distin- 
guished by  all  who  visited  the  cottage  at  St.  Leonard's  Crags. 

Elfie  Deans,  under  the  tender  and  affectionate  care  of  her 
sister,  had  now  shot  up  into  a  beautiful  and  blooming  girl. 
Her  Grecian-shaped  head  was  profusely  rich  in  waving  ring- 
lets of  brown  hair,  which,  confined  by  a  blue  snood  of  silk, 
and  shading  a  laughing  Hebe  countenance,  seemed  the  picture 
of  health,  pleasure,  and  contentment.  Her  brown  russet  short 
gown  set  off  a  shape  which  time,  perhaps,  might  be  expected 
to  render  too  robust,  the  frequent  objection  to  Scottish  beauty, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


11? 


but  which,  in  her  present  early  age,  was  slender  and  taper, 
with  that  graceful  and  easy  sweep  of  outline  which  at  once 
indicates  health  and  beautiful  proportion  of  parts. 

These  growing  charms,  in  all  their  juvenile  profusion,  had 
no  power  to  shake  the  steadfast  mien,  or  divert  the  fixed  gaze, 
of  the  constant  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes.  But  there  was  scarce 
another  eye  that  could  behold  this  living  picture  of  health  and 
beauty  without  pausing  on  it  with  pleasure.  The  traveller 
stopped  his  weary  horse  on  the  eve  of  entering  the  city  which 
was  the  end  of  his  journey,  to  gaze  at  the  sylph-like  form 
that  tripped  by  him,  with  her  milk-pail  poised  on  her  head, 
bearing  herself  so  erect,  and  stepping  so  light  and  free  under 
her  burden,  that  it  seemed  rather  an  ornament  than  an  encum- 
brance. The  lads  of  the  neighbouring  suburb,  who  held  their 
evening  rendezvous  for  putting  the  stone,  casting  the  hammer, 
playing  at  long  bowls  and  other  athletic  exercises,  watched 
the  motions  of  Erne  Deans  and  contended  with  each  other 
which  should  have  the  good  fortune  to  attract  her  attention. 
Even  the  rigid  Presbyterians  of  her  father's  persuasion,  who 
held  each  indulgence  of  the  eye  and  sense  to  be  a  snare  at  least, 
if  not  a  crime,  were  surprised  into  a  moment's  delight  while 
gazing  on  a  creature  so  exquisite — instantly  checked  by  a 
sigh,  reproaching  at  once  their  own  weakness,  and  mourning 
that  a  creature  so  fair  should  share  in  the  common  and  heredi- 
tary guilt  and  imperfection  of  our  nature.  She  was  currently 
entitled  the  Lily  of  St.  Leonard's,  a  name  which  she  deserved 
as  much  by  her  guileless  purity  of  thought,  speech,  and  action 
as  by  her  uncommon  loveliness  of  face  and  person. 

Yet  there  were  points  in  Effie's  character  which  gave  rise 
not  only  to  strange  doubt  and  anxiety  on  the  part  of  Douce 
David  Deans,  whose  ideas  were  rigid,  as  may  easily  be  sup- 
posed, upon  the  subject  of  youthful  amusements,  but  even  of 
serious  apprehensions  to  her  more  indulgent  sister.  The  chil- 
dren of  the  Scotch  of  the  inferior  classes  are  usually  spoiled 
by  the  early  indulgence  of  their  parents ;  how,  wherefore,  and 
to  what  degree,  the  lively  and  instructive  narrative  of  the 
amiable  and  accomplished  authoress  1  of  Glenburnie  has  saved 
1  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Hamilton. 


118 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


me  and  all  future  scribblers  the  trouble  of  recording.  Effie 
had  had  a  double  share  of  this  inconsiderate  and  misjudged 
kindness.  Even  the  strictness  of  her  father's  principles  could 
not  condemn  the  sports  of  infancy  and  childhood ;  and  to  the 
good  old  man  his  younger  daughter,  the  child  of  his  old  age, 
seemed  a  child  for  some  years  after  she  attained  the  years  of 
womanhood,  was  still  called  the  "  bit  lassie"  and  "  little  Effie, " 
and  was  permitted  to  run  up  and  down  uncontrolled,  unless 
upon  the  Sabbath  or  at  the  times  of  family  worship.  Her 
sister,  with  all  the  love  and  care  of  a  mother,  could  not  be 
supposed  to  possess  the  same  authoritative  influence;  and  that 
which  she  had  hitherto  exercised  became  gradually  limited 
and  diminished  as  Effie' s  advancing  years  entitled  her,  in  her 
own  conceit  at  least,  to  the  right  of  independence  and  free 
agency.  With  all  the  innocent  and  goodness  of  disposition, 
therefore,  which  we  have  described,  the  Lily  of  St.  Leonard's 
possessed  a  little  fund  of  self-conceit  and  obstinacy,  and  some 
warmth  and  irritability  of  temper,  partly  natural  perhaps,  but 
certainly  much  increased  by  the  unrestrained  freedom  of  her 
childhood.  Her  character  will  be  best  illustrated  by  a  cottage 
evening  scene. 

The  careful  father  was  absent  in  his  well-stocked  byre,  fod- 
dering those  useful  and  patient  animals  on  whose  produce  his 
living  depended,  and  the  summer  evening  was  beginning  to 
close  in,  when  Jeanie  Deans  began  to  be  very  anxious  for  the 
appearance  of  her  sister,  and  to  fear  that  she  would  not  reach 
home  before  her  father  returned  from  the  labour  of  the  even- 
ing, when  it  was  his  custom  to  have  "  family  exercise, "  and 
when  she  knew  Effie' s  absence  would  give  him  the  most  serious 
displeasure.  These  apprehensions  hung  heavier  upon  her 
mind  because,  for  several  preceding  evenings,  Effie  had  disap- 
peared about  the  same  time,  and  her  stay,  at  first  so  brief  as 
scarce  to  be  noticed,  had  been  gradually  protracted  to  half  an 
hour,  and  an  hour,  and  on  the  present  occasion  had  consider- 
ably exceeded  even  this  last  limit.  And  now  Jeanie  stood  at 
the  door,  with  her  hand  before  her  eyes  to  avoid  the  rays  of 
the  level  sun,  and  looked  alternately  along  the  various  tracks 
which  led  towards  their  dwelling,  to  see  if  she  could  descry 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


119 


the  nymph-like  form  of  her  sister.  There  was  a  wall  and  a 
stile  which  separated  the  royal  domain,  or  King's  Park,  as  it 
is  called,  from  the  public  road;  to  this  pass  she  frequently  di- 
rected her  attention,  when  she  saw  two  persons  appear  there 
somewhat  suddenly,  as  if  they  had  walked  close  by  the  side 
of  the  wall  to  screen  themselves  from  observation.  One  of 
them,  a  man,  drew  back  hastily ;  the  other,  a  female,  crossed 
the  stile  and  advanced  towards  her.  It  was  Effie.  She  met 
her  sister  with  that  affected  liveliness  of  manner  which,  in 
her  rank,  and  sometimes  in  those  above  it,  females  occasion- 
ally assume  to  hide  surprise  or  confusion ;  and  she  carolled  as 
she  came : 

"  The  elfin  knight  sate  on  the  brae, 

The  broom  grows  bonny,  the  broom  grows  fair  ; 
And  by  there  came  lilting  a  lady  so  gay, 
And  we  daurna  gang  down  to  the  broom  nae  mair." 

"Whisht,  Effie,"  said  her  sister;  "  our  father's  coming  out 
o'  the  byre. "  The  damsel  stinted  in  her  song.  "  Whare  hae 
ye  been  sae  late  at  e'en?" 

"It's  no  late,  lass,"  answered  Effie. 

"It'schappit  eight  on  every  clock  o'  the  town,  and  the  sun's 
gaun  down  ahint  the  Corstorphine  Hills.  Whare  can  ye  hae 
been  sae  late?" 

"Nae  gate,"  answered  Effie. 

"And  wha  was  that  parted  wi'  you  at  the  stile?" 
"Naebody,"  replied  Effie  once  more. 

"  Nae  gate !  Naebody !  I  wish  it  may  be  a  right  gate,  and 
a  right  body,  that  keeps  folk  out  sae  late  at  e'en,  Effie." 

"  What  needs  ye  be  aye  speering  then  at  folk?"  retorted 
Effie.  "I'm  sure,  if  ye'll  ask  nae  questions,  I'll  tell  ye  nae 
lees.  I  never  ask  what  brings  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes 
glowing  here  like  a  wull-cat — only  his  een's  greener,  and  no 
sae  gleg — day  after  day,  (  till  we  are  a'  like  to  gaunt  our 
chafts  an2." 

"  Because  ye  ken  very  weel  he  comes  to  see  our  father, " 
said  Jeanie,  in  answer  to  this  pert  remark. 

"And  Dominie  Butler — does  he  come  to  see  our  father, 
that's  sae  taen  wi'  his  Latin  words?"  said  Effie,  delighted  to 


120 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


find  that,  by  carrying  the  war  into  the  enemy's  country,  she 
could  divert  the  threatened  attack  upon  herself,  and  with  the 
petulance  of  youth  she  pursued  her  triumph  over  her  prudent 
elder  sister.  She  looked  at  her  with  a  sly  air,  in  which  there 
was  something  like  irony,  as  she  chanted,  in  a  low  but  marked 
tone,  a  scrap  of  an  old  Scotch  song : 

11  Through  the  kirkyard 
I  met  wi'  the  Laird  ; 

The  silly  puir  body  he  said  me  nae  harm. 
But  just  ere  'twas  dark, 
I  met  wi'  the  clerk  ' — 

Here  the  songstress  stopped,  looked  full  at  her  sister,  and, 
observing  the  tears  gather  in  her  eyes,  she  suddenly  flung  her 
arms  round  her  neck  and  kissed  them  away.  Jeanie,  though 
hurt  and  displeased,  was  unable  to  resist  the  caresses  of  this 
untaught  child  of  nature,  whose  good  and  evil  seemed  to  flow 
rather  from  impulse  than  from  reflection.  But  as  she  re- 
turned the  sisterly  kiss,  in  token  of  perfect  reconciliation,  she 
could  not  suppress  the  gentle  reproof :  "  Effie,  if  ye  will  learn 
fule  sangs,  ye  might  make  a  kinder  use  of  them." 

"And  so  I  might,  Jeanie,"  continued  the  girl,  clinging  to 
her  sister's  neck ;  "  and  I  wish  I  had  never  learned  ane  o'  them, 
and  I  wish  we  had  never  come  here,  and  I  wish  my  tongue 
had  been  blistered  or  I  had  vexed  ye. " 

" Never  mind  that,  Effie,"  replied  the  affectionate  sister. 
"  I  canna  be  muckle  vexed  wi'  ony  thing  ye  say  to  me ;  but 
oh  dinna  vex  our  father!" 

" I  will  not — will  not,"  replied  Effie;  " and  if  there  were  as 
mony  dances  the  morn's  night  as  there  are  merry  dancers  in 
the  north  firmament  on  a  frosty  e'en,  I  winna  budge  an  inch 
to  gang  near  ane  o'  them." 

"Dance!"  echoed  Jeanie  Deans  in  astonishment.  "Oh, 
Effie,  what  could  take  ye  to  a  dance?" 

It  is  very  possible  that,  in  the  communicative  mood  into 
which  the  Lily  of  St  Leonard's  was  now  surprised,  she  might 
have  given  her  sister  her  unreserved  confidence,  and  saved  me 
the  pain  of  telling  a  melancholy  tale;  but  at  the  moment  the 
word  "dance"  was  uttered,  it  reached  the  ear  of  old  David 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


121 


Deans,  who  had  turned  the  corner  of  the  house,  and  came 
upon  his  daughters  ere  they  were  aware  of  his  presence.  The 
word  "prelate,"  or  even  the  word  "  pope,"  could  hardly  have 
produced  so  appalling  an  effect  upon  David's  ear;  for,  of  all 
exercise,  that  of  dancing,  which  he  termed  a  voluntary  and 
regular  fit  of  distraction,  he  deemed  most  destructive  of  seri- 
ous thoughts,  and  the  readiest  inlet  to  all  sort  of  licentious- 
ness ;  and  he  accounted  the  encouraging,  and  even  permitting, 
assemblies  or  meetings,  whether  among  those  of  high  or  low 
degree,  for  this  fantastic  and  absurd  purpose,  or  for  that  of 
dramatic  representations,  as  one  of  the  most  flagrant  proofs 
of  defection  and  causes  of  wrath.  The  pronouncing  of  the 
word  "  dance"  by  his  own  daughters,  and  at  his  own  door, 
now  drove  him  beyond  the  verge  of  patience.  "Dance!"  he 
exclaimed.  "Dance — dance,  said  ye?  I  daur  ye,  limmers 
that  ye  are,  to  name  sic  a  word  at  my  door-cheek!  It's  a 
dissolute  profane  pastime,  practised  by  the  Israelites  only  at 
their  base  and  brutal  worship  of  the  Golden  Calf  at  Bethel, 
and  by  the  unhappy  lass  wha  danced  aff  the  head  of  John  the 
Baptist,  upon  whilk  chapter  I  will  exercise  this  night  for  your 
farther  instruction,  since  ye  need  it  sae  muckle,  nothing  doubt- 
ing that  she  has  cause  to  rue  the  day,  lang  or  this  time,  that 
e'er  she  suld  hae  shook  a  limb  on  sic  an  errand.  Better  for 
her  to  hae  been  born  a  cripple,  and  carried  frae  door  to  door, 
like  auld  Bessie  Bowie,  begging  bawbees,  than  to  be  a  king's 
daughter,  fiddling  and  flinging  the  gate  she  did.  I  hae  often 
wondered  that  ony  ane  that  ever  bent  a  knee  for  the  right 
purpose  should  ever  daur  to  crook  a  hough  to  fyke  and  fling 
at  piper's  wind  and  fiddler's  squealing.  And  I  bless  God, 
with  that  singular  worthy,  Peter  [Patrick]  Walker, 1  the  pack- 
man, at  Bristo  Port,  that  ordered  my  lot  in  my  dancing  days 
so  that  fear  of  my  head  and  throat,  dread  of  bloody  rope  and 
swift  bullet,  and  trenchant  swords  and  pain  of  boots  and 
thumkins,  cauld  and  hunger,  wetness  and  weariness,  stopped 
the  lightness  of  my  head  and  the  wantonness  of  my  feet. 
And  now,  if  I  hear  ye,  quean  lassies,  sae  muckle  as  name 
dancing,  or  think  there's  sic  a  thing  in  this  warld  as  flinging 
i  See  Patrick  Walker.   Note  16. 


122 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


to  fiddler's  sound  and  piper's  springs,  as  sure  as  my  father's 
spirit  is  with  the  just,  ye  shall  be  no  more  either  charge  or 
concern  of  mine!  Gang  in,  then — gang  in,  then,  ninnies,  "he 
added,  in  a  softer  tone,  for  the  tears  of  both  daughters,  but 
especially  those  of  Effie,  began  to  flow  very  fast — "  gang  in, 
dears,  and  we'll  seek  grace  to  preserve  us  frae  all  manner  of 
profane  folly,  whilk  causeth  to  sin,  and  promoteth  the  king- 
dom of  darkness,  warring  with  the  kingdom  of  light." 

The  objurgation  of  David  Deans,  however  well  meant,  was 
unhappily  timed.  It  created  a  division  of  feelings  in  Effie' s 
bosom,  and  deterred  her  from  her  intended  confidence  in  her 
sister.  "  She  wad  haud  me  nae  better  than  the  dirt  below  her 
feet,"  said  Effie  to  herself,  "  were  I  to  confess  I  hae  danced 
wi'  him  four  times  on  the  green  down-bye,  and  ance  at  Mag- 
gie Macqueen's;  and  she'll  maybe  hing  it  ower  my  head  that 
she'll  tell  my  father,  and  then  she  wad  be  mistress  and  mair. 
But  I'll  no  gang  back  there  again.  I'm  resolved  I'll  no  gang 
back.  I'll  lay  in  a  leaf  of  my  Bible,1  and  that's  very  near  as 
if  I  had  made  an  aith,  that  I  winna  gang  back."  And  she 
kept  her  vow  for  a  week,  during  which  she  was  unusually  cross 
and  fretful,  blemishes  which  had  never  before  been  observed 
in  her  temper,  except  during  a  moment  of  contradiction. 

There  was  something  in  all  this  so  mysterious  as  consider- 
ably to  alarm  the  prudent  and  affectionate  Jeanie,  the  more 
so  as  she  judged  it  unkind  to  her  sister  to  mention  to  their 
father  grounds  of  anxiety  which  might  arise  from  her  own  im- 
agination. Besides,  her  respect  for  the  good  old  man  did  not 
prevent  her  from  being  aware  that  he  was  both  hot-tempered 
and  positive,  and  she  sometimes  suspected  that  he  carried  his 
dislike  to  youthful  amusements  beyond  the  verge  that  religion 
and  reason  demanded.  Jeanie  had  sense  enough  to  see  that 
a  sudden  and  severe  curb  upon  her  sister's  hitherto  unre- 
strained freedom  might  be  rather  productive  of  harm  than 
good,  and  that  Effie,  in  the  headstrong  wilfulness  of  youth, 
was  likely  to  make  what  might  be  overstrained  in  her  father's 

1  This  custom,  of  making  a  mark  by  folding  a  leaf  in  the  party's  Bible 
when  a  solemn  resolution  is  formed,  is  still  held  to  be,  in  some  sense,  an 
appeal  to  Heaven  for  his  or  her  sincerity. 


THE  HEAKT  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


123 


precepts  an  excuse  to  herself  for  neglecting  them  altogether. 
In  the  higher  classes  a  damsel,  however  giddy,  is  still  under 
the  dominion  of  etiquette,  and  subject  to  the  surveillance  of 
mammas  and  chaperons ;  but  the  country  girl,  who  snatches 
her  moment  of  gaiety  during  the  intervals  of  labour,  is  under 
no  such  guardianship  or  restraint,  and  her  amusement  becomes 
so  much  the  more  hazardous.  Jeanie  saw  all  this  with  much 
distress  of  mind,  when  a  circumstance  occurred  which  ap- 
peared calculated  to  relieve  her  anxiety. 

Mrs.  Saddletree,  with  whom  our  readers  have  already  been 
made  acquainted,  chanced  to  be  a  distant  relation  of  Douce 
David  Deans,  and  as  she  was  a  woman  orderly  in  her  life  and 
conversation,  and,  moreover,  of  good  substance,  a  sort  of  ac- 
quaintance was  formally  kept  up  between  the  families.  Now 
this  careful  dame,  about  a  year  and  a  half  before  our  story 
commences,  chanced  to  need,  in  the  line  of  her  profession,  a 
better  sort  of  servant,  or  rather  shop-woman.  "  Mr.  Saddle- 
tree, "  she  said,  "  was  never  in  the  shop  when  he  could  get 
his  nose  within  the  Parliament  House,  and  it  was  an  awkward 
thing  for  a  woman-body  to  be  standing  among  bundles  o?  bark- 
ened leather  her  lane,  selling  saddles  and  bridles ;  and  she  had 
cast  her  eyes  upon  her  far-awa'  cousin  Effie  Deans,  as  just 
the  very  sort  of  lassie  she  would  want  to  keep  her  in  counte- 
nance on  such  occasions." 

In  this  proposal  there  was  much  that  pleased  old  David: 
there  was  bed,  board,  and  bountith ;  it  was  a  decent  situation ; 
the  lassie  would  be  under  Mrs.  Saddletree's  eye,  who  had  an 
upright  walk,  and  lived  close  by  the  Tolbooth  Kirk,  in  which 
might  still  be  heard  the  comforting  doctrines  of  one  of  those 
few  ministers  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland  who  had  not  bent  the 
knee  unto  Baal,  according  to  David's  expression,  or  become 
accessory  to  the  course  of  national  defections — union,  tolera- 
tion, patronages,  and  a  bundle  of  prelatical  Erastian  oaths 
which  had  been  imposed  on  the  church  since  the  Revolution, 
and  particularly  in  the  reign  of  "the  late  woman, "  as  he 
called  Queen  Anne,  the  last  of  that  unhappy  race  of  Stuarts. 
In  the  good  man's  security  concerning  the  soundness  of  the 
theological  doctrine  which  his  daughter  was  to  hear,  he  was 


124 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


nothing  disturbed  on  account  of  the  snares  of  a  different  kind 
to  which  a  creature  so  beautiful,  young,  and  wilful  might  be 
exposed  in  the  centre  of  a  populous  and  corrupted  city.  The 
fact  is,  that  he  thought  with  so  much  horror  on  all  approaches 
to  irregularities  of  the  nature  most  to  be  dreaded  in  such 
cases,  that  he  would  as  soon  have  suspected  and  guarded 
against  Effie's  being  induced  to  become  guilty  of  the  crime  of 
murder.  He  only  regretted  that  she  should  live  under  the 
same  roof  with  such  a  worldly-wise  man  as  Bartoline  Saddle- 
tree, whom  David  never  suspected  of  being  an  ass  as  he  was, 
but  considered  as  one  really  endowed  with  all  the  legal  knowl- 
edge to  which  he  made  pretension,  and  only  liked  him  the 
worse  for  possessing  it.  The  lawyers,  especially  those  amongst 
them  who  sate  as  ruling  elders  in  the  General  Assembly  of  the 
Kirk,  had  been  forward  in  promoting  the  measures  of  patron- 
age, of  the  abjuration  oath,  and  others,  which  in  the  opinion 
of  David  Deans  were  a  breaking  down  of  the  carved  work  of 
the  sanctuary,  and  an  intrusion  upon  the  liberties  of  the  kirk. 
Upon  the  dangers  of  listening  to  the  doctrines  of  a  legalised 
formalist,  such  as  Saddletree,  David  gave  his  daughter  many 
lectures ;  so  much  so,  that  he  had  time  to  touch  but  slightly 
on  the  dangers  of  chambering,  company-keeping,  promiscuous 
dancing,  to  which,  at  her  time  of  life,  most  people  would  have 
thought  Effie  more  exposed  than  to  the  risk  of  theoretical 
error  in  her  religious  faith. 

Jeanie  parted  from  her  sister  with  a  mixed  feeling  of  re- 
gret, and  apprehension,  and  hope.  She  could  not  be  so  con- 
fident concerning  EffiVs  prudence  as  her  father,  for  she  had 
observed  her  moro  narrowly,  had  more  sympathy  with  her 
feelings,  and  could  better  estimate  the  temptations  to  which 
she  was  exposed.  On  the  other  hand,  Mrs.  Saddletree  was 
an  observing,  shrewd,  notable  woman,  entitled  to  exercise  over 
Effie  the  full  authority  of  a  mistress,  and  likely  to  do  so  strict- 
ly, yet  with  kindness.  Her  removal  to  Saddletree's,  it  was 
most  probable,  would  also  serve  to  break  off  some  idle  ac- 
quaintances which  Jeanie  suspected  her  sister  to  have  formed 
in  the  neighbouring  suburb.  Upon  the  whole,  then,  she 
viewed  her  departure  from  St.  Leonard's  with  pleasure,  and 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


125 


it  was  not  until  the  very  moment  of  their  parting  for  the  first 
time  in  their  lives,  that  she  felt  the  full  force  of  sisterly  sor- 
row. While  they  repeatedly  kissed  each  other's  cheeks  and 
wrung  each  other's  hands,  Jeanie  took  that  moment  of  affec- 
tionate sympathy  to  press  upon  her  sister  the  necessity  of  the 
utmost  caution  in  her  conduct  while  residing  in  Edinburgh. 
Effie  listened,  without  once  raising  her  large  dark  eyelashes, 
from  which  the  drops  fell  so  fast  as  almost  to  resemble  a  foun- 
tain. At  the  conclusion  she  sobbed  again,  kissed  her  sister, 
promised  to  recollect  all  the  good  counsel  she  had  given  her, 
and  they  parted. 

During  the  first  few  weeks,  Effie  was  all  that  her  kinswo- 
man expected  and  even  more.  But  with  time  there  came  a 
relaxation  of  that  early  zeal  which  she  manifested  in  Mrs. 
Saddletree's  service.  To  borrow  once  again  from  the  poet 
who  so  correctly  and  beautifully  describes  living  manners — 

Something  there  was, — what,  none  presumed  to  say, — 
Clouds  lightly  passing  on  a  summer's  day  ; 
Whispers  and  hints,  which  went  from  ear  to  ear, 
And  mix'd  reports  no  judge  on  earth  could  clear. 

During  this  interval,  Mrs.  Saddletree  was  sometimes  displeased 
by  Effie' s  lingering  when  she  was  sent  upon  errands  about  the 
shop  business,  and  sometimes  by  a  little  degree  of  impatience 
which  she  manifested  at  being  rebuked  on  such  occasions. 
But  she  good-naturedly  allowed  that  the  first  was  very  natural 
to  a  girl  to  whom  everything  in  Edinburgh  was  new,  and  the 
other  was  only  the  petulance  of  a  spoiled  child  when  subjected 
to  the  yoke  of  domestic  discipline  for  the  first  time.  Atten- 
tion and  submission  could  not  be  learned  at  once ;  Holy-Kood 
was  not  built  in  a  day ;  use  would  make  perfect. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  considerate  old  lady  had  presaged  truly. 
Ere  many  months  had  passed,  Effie  became  almost  wedded  to 
her  duties,  though  she  no  longer  discharged  them  with  the 
laughing  cheek  and  light  step  which  at  first  had  attracted 
every  customer.  Her  mistress  sometimes  observed  her  in 
tears ;  but  they  were  signs  of  secret  sorrow,  which  she  con- 
cealed as  often  as  she  saw  them  attract  notice.  Time  wore 
on,  her  cheek  grew  pale,  and  her  step  heavy.    The  cause  of 


126 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


these  changes  could  not  have  escaped  the  matronly  eye  of  Mrs. 
Saddletree,  but  she  was  chiefly  confined  by  indisposition  to 
her  bedroom  for  a  considerable  time  during  the  latter  part  of 
Effie's  service.  This  interval  was  marked  by  symptoms  of 
anguish  almost  amounting  to  despair.  The  utmost  efforts 
of  the  poor  girl  to  command  her  fits  of  hysterical  agony  were 
often  totally  unavailing,  and  the  mistakes  which  she  made  in 
the  shop  the  while  were  so  numerous  and  so  provoking,  that 
Bartoline  Saddletree,  who,  during  his  wife's  illness,  was  obliged 
to  take  closer  charge  of  the  business  than  consisted  with  his 
study  of  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law,  lost  all  patience 
with  the  girl,  who,  in  his  law  Latin,  and  without  much  re- 
spect to  gender,  he  declared  ought  to  be  cognosced  by  inquest 
of  a  jury,  as  fatuus,  furiosiis,  and  naturaliter  idiota.  Neigh- 
bours, also,  and  fellow-servants,  remarked,  with  malicious 
curiosity  or  degrading  pity,  the  disfigured  shape,  loose  dress, 
and  pale  cheeks  of  the  once  beautiful  and  still  interesting 
girl.  But  to  no  one  would  she  grant  her  confidence,  answering 
all  taunts  with  bitter  sarcasm,  and  all  serious  expostulation 
with  sullen  denial,  or  with  floods  of  tears. 

At  length,  when  Mrs.  Saddletree's  recovery  was  likely  to 
permit  her  wonted  attention  to  the  regulation  of  her  house- 
hold, Efhe  Deans,  as  if  unwilling  to  face  an  investigation  made 
by  the  authority  of  her  mistress,  asked  permission  of  Barto- 
line to  go  home  for  a  week  or  two,  assigning  indisposition, 
and  the  wish  of  trying  the  benefit  of  repose  and  the  change 
of  air,  as  the  motives  of  her  request.  Sharp-eyed  as  a  lynx, 
or  conceiving  himself  to  be  so,  in  the  nice  sharp  quillets  of 
legal  discussion,  Bartoline  was  as  dull  at  drawing  inferences 
from  the  occurrences  of  common  life  as  any  Dutch  professor 
of  mathematics.  He  suffered  Effie  to  depart  without  much 
suspicion,  and  without  any  inquiry. 

It  was  afterwards  found  that  a  period  of  a  week  intervened 
betwixt  her  leaving  her  master's  house  and  arriving  at  St. 
Leonard's.  She  made  her  appearance  before  her  sister  in  a 
state  rather  resembling  the  spectre  than  the  living  substance 
of  the  gay  and  beautiful  girl  who  had  left  her  father's  cottage 
for  the  first  time  scarce  seventeen  months  before.    The  linger- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


127 


ing  illness  of  her  mistress  had,  for  the  last  few  months,  given 
her  a  plea  for  confining  herself  entirely  to  the  dusky  precincts 
of  the  shop  in  the  Lawnmarket,  and  J eanie  was  so  much  occu- 
pied, during  the  same  period,  with  the  concerns  of  her  father's 
household,  that  she  had  rarely  found  leisure  for  a  walk  into  a 
city,  and  a  brief  and  hurried  visit  to  her  sister.  The  young 
women,  therefore,  had  scarcely  seen  each  other  for  several 
months,  nor  had  a  single  scandalous  surmise  reached  the  ears 
of  the  secluded  inhabitants  of  the  cottage  at  St.  Leonard's. 
Jeanie,  therefore,  terrified  to  death  at  her  sister's  appearance, 
at  first  overwhelmed  her  with  inquiries,  to  which  the  unfor- 
tunate young  woman  returned  for  a  time  incoherent  and  ram- 
bling answers,  and  finally  fell  into  a  hysterical  fit.  Eendered 
too  certain  of  her  sister's  misfortune,  Jeanie  had  now  the 
dreadful  alternative  of  communicating  her  ruin  to  her  father 
or  of  endeavouring  to  conceal  it  from  him.  To  all  questions 
concerning  the  name  or  rank  of  her  seducer,  and  the  fate  of 
the  being  to  whom  her  fall  had  given  birth,  Effie  remained 
mute  as  the  grave,  to  which  she  seemed  hastening ;  and  in- 
deed the  least  allusion  to  either  seemed  to  drive  her  to  dis- 
traction. Her  sister,  in  distress  and  in  despair,  was  about  to 
repair  to  Mrs.  Saddletree  to  consult  her  experience,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  obtain  what  lights  she  could  upon  this  unhappy 
affair,  when  she  was  saved  that  trouble  by  a  new  stroke  of 
fate,  which  seemed  to  carry  misfortune  to  the  uttermost. 

David  Deans  had  been  alarmed  at  the  state  of  health  in 
which  his  daughter  had  returned  to  her  paternal  residence ; 
but  Jeanie  had  contrived  to  divert  him  from  particular  and 
specific  inquiry.  It  was,  therefore,  like  a  clap  of  thunder  to 
the  poor  old  man  when,  just  as  the  hour  of  noon  had  brought 
the  visit  of  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes  as  usual,  other  and  sterner, 
as  well  as  most  unexpected,  guests  arrived  at  the  cottage  of 
St.  Leonard's.  These  were  the  officers  of  justice,  with  a  war- 
rant of  justiciary  to  search  for  and  apprehend  Euphemia  or 
Effie  Deans,  accused  of  the  crime  of  child-murder.  The  stun- 
ning weight  of  a  blow  so  totally  unexpected  bore  down  the  old 
man,  who  had  in  his  early  youth  resisted  the  brow  of  military 
and  civil  tyranny,  though  backed  with  swords  and  guns,  tor- 


128 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


tures  and  gibbets.  He  fell  extended  and  senseless  upon  his 
own  hearth;  and  the  nien,  happy  to  escape  from  the  scene  of 
his  awakening,  raised,  with  rude  humanity,  the  object  of  their 
warrant  from  her  bed,  and  placed  her  in  a  coach,  which  they 
had  brought  with  them.  The  hasty  remedies  which  Jeanie 
had  applied  to  bring  back  her  father's  senses  were  scarce  be- 
gun to  operate  when  the  noise  of  the  wheels  in  motion  recalled 
her  attention  to  her  miserable  sister.  To  run  shrieking  after 
the  carriage  was  the  first  vain  effort  of  her  distraction,  but  she 
was  stopped  by  one  or  two  female  neighbours,  assembled  by 
the  extraordinary  appearance  of  a  coach  in  that  sequestered 
place,  who  almost  forced  her  back  to  her  father's  house.  The 
deep  and  sympathetic  affliction  of  these  poor  people,  by  whom 
the  little  family  at  St.  Leonard's  were  held  in  high  regard, 
filled  the  house  with  lamentation.  Even  Dumbiedikes  was 
moved  from  his  wonted  apathy,  and,  groping  for  his  purse  as 
he  spoke,  ejaculated,  "  Jeanie,  woman! — Jeanie,  woman!  dinna 
greet.  It's  sad  wark;  but  siller  will  help  it,"  and  he  drew 
out  his  purse  as  he  spoke. 

The  old  man  had  now  raised  himself  from  the  ground,  and, 
looking  about  him  as  if  he  missed  something,  seemed  gradu- 
ally to  recover  the  sense  of  his  wretchedness.  "  Where,"  he 
said,  with  a  voice  that  made  the  roof  ring — "  where  is  the  vile 
harlot  that  has  disgraced  the  blood  of  an  honest  man?  Where 
is  she  that  has  no  place  among  us,  but  has  come  foul  with  her 
sins,  like  the  Evil  One,  among  the  children  of  God?  Where 
is  she,  Jeanie?  Bring  her  before  me,  that  I  may  kill  her  with 
a  word  and  a  look!" 

All  hastened  around  him  with  their  appropriate  sources  of 
consolation — the  Laird  with  his  purse,  Jeanie  with  burnt 
feathers  and  strong  waters,  and  the  women  with  their  ex- 
hortations. "Oh,  neighbour — oh,  Mr.  Deans,  it's  a  sair  trial, 
doubtless;  but  think  of  the  Eock  of  Ages,  neighbour,  think 
of  the  promise!" 

"  And  I  do  think  of  it,  neighbours,  and  I  bless  God  that  I 
can  think  of  it,  even  in  the  wrack  and  ruin  of  a'  that's  near- 
est and  dearest  to  me.  But  to  be  the  father  of  a  castaway, 
a  profligate,  a  bloody  Zipporah,  a  mere  murderess !    Oh,  how 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


129 


will  the  wicked  exult  in  the  high  places  of  their  wickedness ! 
— the  prelatists,  and  the  latitudinarians,  and  the  hand-waled 
murderers,  whose  hands  are  hard  as  horn  wi?  hauding  the 
slaughter-weapons ;  they  will  push  out  the  lip,  and  say  that 
we  are  even  such  as  themselves.  Sair,  sair,  I  am  grieved, 
neighbours,  for  the  poor  castaway,  for  the  child  of  mine  old 
age ;  but  sairer  for  the  stumbling-block  and  scandal  it  will  be 
to  all  tender  and  honest  souls!" 

"Davie,  winna  siller  do't?"  insinuated  the  Laird,  still  prof- 
fering his  green  purse,  which  was  full  of  guineas. 

"  I  tell  ye,  Dumbiedikes, "  said  Deans,  "  that  if  telling  down 
my  haill  substance  could  hae  saved  her  frae  this  black  snare, 
I  wad  hae  walked  out  wi?  naething  but  my  bonnet  and  my 
staff  to  beg  an  awmous  for  God's  sake,  and  ca'd  my  sell  an 
happy  man.  But  if  a  dollar,  or  a  plack,  or  the  nineteenth 
part  of  a  boddle  wad  save  her  open  guilt  and  open  shame  frae 
open  punishment,  that  purchase  wad  David  Deans  never  make. 
Na,  na;  an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  life  for  life, 
blood  for  blood:  it's  the  law  of  man,  and  it's  the  law  of  God. 
Leave  me,  sirs — leave  me;  I  maun  wrastle  wi'  this  trial  in 
privacy  and  on  my  knees." 

Jeanie,  now  in  some  degree  restored  to  the  power  of  thought, 
joined  in  the  same  request.  The  next  day  found  the  father 
and  daughter  still  in  the  depth  of  affliction,  but  the  father 
sternly  supporting  his  load  of  ill  through  a  proud  sense  of  re- 
ligious duty,  and  the  daughter  anxiously  suppressing  her  own 
feelings  to  avoid  again  awakening  his.  Thus  was  it  with  the 
afflicted  family  until  the  morning  after  Porteous's  death,  a 
period  at  which  we  are  now  arrived. 
9 


130 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Is  all  the  counsel  that  we  two  have  shared, 
The  sisters'  vows,  the  hours  that  we  have  spent 
When  we  have  chid  the  hasty-footed  time 
For  parting  us — Oh  !  and  is  all  forgot  ? 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

We  have  been  a  long  while  in  conducting  Butler  to  the  door 
of  the  cottage  at  St.  Leonard's;  yet  the  space  which  we  have 
occupied  in  the  preceding  narrative  does  not  exceed  in  length 
that  which  he  actually  spent  on  Salisbury  Crags  on  the  morn- 
ing which  succeeded  the  execution  done  upon  Porteous  by  the 
rioters.  For  this  delay  he  had  his  own  motives.  He  wished 
to  collect  his  thoughts,  strangely  agitated  as  they  were,  first 
by  the  melancholy  news  of  Effie  Deans 's  situation,  and  after- 
wards by  the  frightful  scene  which  he  had  witnessed.  In 
the  situation  also  in  which  he  stood  with  respect  to  Jeanie 
and  her  father,  some  ceremony,  at  least  some  choice  of  fitting 
time  and  season,  was  necessary  to  wait  upon  them.  Eight  in 
the  morning  was  then  the  ordinary  hour  for  breakfast,  and  he 
resolved  that  it  should  arrive  before  he  made  his  appearance 
in  their  cottage. 

Never  did  hours  pass  so  heavily.  Butler  shifted  his  place 
and  enlarged  his  circle  to  while  away  the  time,  and  heard  the 
huge  bell  of  St.  Giles's  toll  each  successive  hour  in  swelling 
tones,  which  were  instantly  attested  by  those  of  the  other 
steeples  in  succession.  He  had  heard  seven  struck  in  this 
manner,  when  he  began  to  think  he  might  venture  to  ap- 
proach nearer  to  St.  Leonard's,  from  which  he  was  still  a  mile 
distant.  Accordingly  he  descended  from  his  lofty  station  as 
low  as  the  bottom  of  the  valley  which  divides  Salisbury  Crags 
from  those  small  rocks  which  take  their  name  from  St.  Leon- 
ard. It  is,  as  many  of  my  readers  may  know,  a  deep,  wild, 
grassy  valley,  scattered  with  huge  rocks  and  fragments 
which  have  descended  from  the  cliffs  and  steep  ascent  to 
the  east. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


131 


This  sequestered  dell,  as  well  as  other  places  of  the  open 
pasturage  of  the  King's  Park,  was,  about  this  time,  often  the 
resort  of  the  gallants  of  the  time  who  had  affairs  of  honour  to 
discuss  with  the  sword.  Duels  were  then  very  common  in 
Scotland,  for  the  gentry  were  at  once  idle,  haughty,  fierce, 
divided  by  faction,  and  addicted  to  intemperance,  so  that 
there  lacked  neither  provocation  nor  inclination  to  resent  it 
when  given ;  and  the  sword,  which  was  part  of  every  gentle- 
man's dress,  was  the  only  weapon  used  for  the  decision  of  such 
differences.  When,  therefore,  Butler  observed  a  young  man 
skulking,  apparently  to  avoid  observation,  among  the  scattered 
rocks  at  some  distance  from  the  footpath,  he  was  naturally  led 
to  suppose  that  he  had  sought  this  lonely  spot  upon  that  evil 
errand.  He  was  so  strongly  impressed  with  this  that,  not- 
withstanding his  own  distress  of  mind,  he  could  not,  according 
to  his  sense  of  duty  as  a  clergyman,  pass  this  person  without 
speaking  to  him.  "  There  are  times, "  thought  he  to  himself, 
"  when  the  slightest  interference  may  avert  a  great  calamity — 
when  a  word  spoken  in  season  may  do  more  for  prevention 
than  the  eloquence  of  Tully  could  do  for  remedying  evil. 
And  for  my  own  griefs,  be  they  as  they  may,  I  shall  feel 
them  the  lighter  if  they  divert  me  not  from  the  prosecution  of 
my  duty." 

Thus  thinking  and  feeling,  he  quitted  the  ordinary  path  and 
advanced  nearer  the  object  he  had  noticed.  The  man  at  first 
directed  his  course  towards  the  hill,  in  order,  as  it  appeared, 
to  avoid  him ;  but  when  he  saw  that  Butler  seemed  disposed 
to  follow  him,  he  adjusted  his  hat  fiercely,  turned  round  and 
came  forward,  as  if  to  meet  and  defy  scrutiny. 

Butler  had  an  opportunity  of  accurately  studying  his  features 
as  they  advanced  slowly  to  meet  each  other.  The  stranger 
seemed  about  twenty-five  years  old.  His  dress  was  of  a  kind 
which  could  hardly  be  said  to  indicate  his  rank  with  certainty, 
for  it  was  such  as  young  gentlemen  sometimes  wore  while  on 
active  exercise  in  the  morning,  and  which,  therefore,  was  imi- 
tated by  those  of  the  inferior  ranks,  as  young  clerks  and  trades- 
men, because  its  cheapness  rendered  it  attainable,  while  it 
approached  more  nearly  to  the  apparel  of  youths  of  fashion 


132 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


than  any  other  which  the  manners  of  the  times  permitted 
them  to  wear.  If  his  air  and  manner  could  be  trusted,  how- 
ever, this  person  seemed  rather  to  be  dressed  under  than  above 
his  rank;  for  his  carriage  was  bold  and  somewhat  supercilious, 
his  step  easy  and  free,  his  manner  daring  and  unconstrained. 
His  stature  was  of  the  middle  size,  or  rather  above  it,  his 
limbs  well-proportionated,  yet  not  so  strong  as  to  infer  the 
reproach  of  clumsiness.  His  features  were  uncommonly 
handsome,  and  all  about  him  would  have  been  interesting  and 
prepossessing,  but  for  that  indescribable  expression  which 
habitual  dissipation  gives  to  the  countenance,  joined  with  a 
certain  audacity  in  look  and  manner,  of  that  kind  which  is 
often  assumed  as  a  mask  for  confusion  and  apprehension. 

Butler  and  the  stranger  met,  surveyed  each  other ;  when,  as 
the  latter,  slightly  touching  his  hat,  was  about  to  pass  by  him, 
Butler,  while  he  returned  the  salutation,  observed :  "  A  fine 
morning,  sir.    You  are  on  the  hill  early." 

"I  have  business  here,"  said  the  young  man,  in  a  tone 
meant  to  repress  further  inquiry. 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  sir, "  said  Butler.  "  I  trust  you  will 
forgive  my  hoping  that  it. is  of  a  lawful  kind?" 

"  Sir, "  said  the  other  with  marked  surprise,  "  I  never  forgive 
impertinence,  nor  can  I  conceive  what  title  you  have  to  hope 
anything  about  what  no  way  concerns  you." 

"  I  am  a  soldier,  sir, "  said  Butler,  "  and  have  a  charge  to 
arrest  evil-doers  in  the  name  of  my  Master." 

"  A  soldier!"  said  the  young  man,  stepping  back  and  fiercely 
laying  his  hand  on  his  sword — "  a  soldier,  and  arrest  me?  Did 
you  reckon  what  your  life  was  worth  before  you  took  the 
commission  upon  you?" 

•  •  You  mistake  me,  sir, "  said  Butler,  gravely ;  "  neither  my 
warfare  nor  my  warrant  are  of  this  world.  I  am  a  preacher 
of  the  Gospel,  and  have  power,  in  my  Master's  name,  to  com- 
mand the  peace  upon  earth  and  good-will  towards  men  which 
was  proclaimed  with  the  Gospel. " 

"  A  minister!"  said  the  stranger,  carelessly,  and  with  an  ex- 
pression approaching  to  scorn.  "I  know  the  gentlemen  of 
your  cloth  in  Scotland  claim  a  strange  right  of  intermeddling 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


i33 


with  men's  private  affairs.  But  I  have  been  abroad,  and  know 
better  than  to  be  priest-ridden." 

"  Sir,  if  it  be  true  that  any  of  my  cloth,  or  it  might  be 
more  decently  said,  of  my  calling,  interfere  with  men's  private 
affairs,  for  the  gratification  either  of  idle  curiosity  or  for  worse 
motives,  you  cannot  have  learned  a  better  lesson  abroad  than 
to  contemn  such  practices.  But,  in  my  Master's  work,  I  am 
called  to  be  busy  in  season  and  out  of  season ;  and,  conscious 
as  I  am  of  a  pure  motive,  it  were  better  for  me  to  incur  your 
contempt  for  speaking  than  the  correction  of  my  own  con- 
science for  being  silent." 

"  In  the  name  of  the  devil!"  said  the  young  man,  impatient- 
ly, "  say  what  you  have  to  say,  then ;  though  whom  you  take 
me  for,  or  what  earthly  concern  you  can  have  with  me,  a 
stranger  to  you,  or  with  my  actions  and  motives,  of  which  you 
can  know  nothing,  I  cannot  conjecture  for  an  instant." 

"  You  are  about, "  said  Butler,  "  to  violate  one  of  your 
country's  wisest  laws;  you  are  about — which  is  much  more 
dreadful — to  violate  a  law  which  God  Himself  has  implanted 
within  our  nature,  and  written,  as  it  were,  in  the  table  of  our 
hearts,  to  which  every  thrill  of  our  nerves  is  responsive." 

"  And  what  is  the  law  you  speak  of?"  said  the  stranger,  in 
a  hollow  and  somewhat  disturbed  accent. 

"  Thou  shalt  do  no  murder,  "  said  Butler,  with  a  deep  and 
solemn  voice. 

The  young  man  visibly  started,  and  looked  considerably 
appalled.  Butler  perceived  he  had  made  a  favourable  impres- 
sion, and  resolved  to  follow  it  up.  "  Think,"  he  said,  "young 
man,"  laying  his  hand  kindly  upon  the  stranger's  shoulder, 
"  what  an  awful  alternative  you  voluntarily  choose  for  your- 
self, to  kill  or  be  killed.  Think  what  it  is  to  rush  uncalled 
into  the  presence  of  an  offended  Deity,  your  heart  fermenting 
with  evil  passions,  your  hand  hot  from  the  steel  you  had  been 
urging,  with  your  best  skill  and  malice,  against  the  breast 
of  a  fellow-creature.  Or,  suppose  yourself  the  scarce  less 
wretched  survivor,  with  the  guilt  of  Cain,  the  first  murderer, 
in  your  heart,  with  his  stamp  upon  your  brow — that  stamp, 
which  struck  all  who  gazed  on  him  with  unutterable  horror, 


134 


WAVERLEY  HOVELS. 


and  by  which  the  murderer  is  made  manifest  to  all  who  look 
upon  him.    Think  " 

The  stranger  gradually  withdrew  himself  from  under  the 
hand  of  his  monitor ;  and,  pulling  his  hat  over  his  brows,  thus 
interrupted  him :  "  Your  meaning,  sir,  I  dare  say,  is  excellent, 
but  you  are  throwing  your  advice  away.  I  am  not  in  this 
place  with  violent  intentions  against  any  one.  I  may  be  bad 
enough — you  priests  say  all  men  are  so — but  I  am  here  for  the 
purpose  of  saving  life,  not  of  taking  it  away.  If  you  wish  to 
spend  your  time  rather  in  doing  a  good  action  than  in  talking 
about  you  know  not  what,  I  will  give  you  an  opportunity. 
Do  you  see  yonder  crag  to  the  right,  over  which  appears  the 
chimney  of  a  lone  house?  Go  thither,  inquire  for  one  Jeanie 
Deans,  the  daughter  of  the  goodman ;  let  her  know  that  he 
she  wots  of  remained  here  from  daybreak  till  this  hour,  ex- 
pecting to  see  her,  and  that  he  can  abide  no  longer.  Tell  her 
she  must  meet  me  at  the  Hunter's  Bog  to-night,  as  the  moon 
rises  behind  St.  Anthony's  Hill,  or  that  she  will  make  a 
desperate  man  of  me." 

"Who  or  what  are  you,"  replied  Butler,  exceedingly  and 
most  unpleasantly  surprised,  "  who  charge  me  with  such  an 
errand?" 

"I  am  the  devil!"  answered  the  young  man,  hastily. 

Butler  stepped  instinctively  back  and  commended  himself 
internally  to  Heaven;  for,  though  a  wise  and  strong-minded 
man,  he  was  neither  wiser  nor  more  strong-minded  than  those 
of  his  age  and  education,  with  whom  to  disbelieve  witchcraft 
or  spectres  was  held  an  undeniable  proof  of  atheism. 

The  stranger  went  on  without  observing  his  emotion. 
"  Yes !  call  me  Apollyon,  Abaddon,  whatever  name  you  shall 
choose,  as  a  clergyman  acquainted  with  the  upper  and  lower 
circles  of  spiritual  denomination,  to  call  me  by,  you  shall  not 
find  an  appellation  more  odious  to  him  that  bears  it  than  is 
mine  own." 

This  sentence  was  spoken  with  the  bitterness  of  self-up- 
braiding, and  a  contortion  of  visage  absolutely  demoniacal. 
Butler,  though  a  man  brave  by  principle,  if  not  by  constitu- 
tion, was  overawed  j  for  intensity  of  mental  distress  has  in  it 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


135 


a  sort  of  sublimity  which  repels  and  overawes  all  men,  but 
especially  those  of  kind  and  sympathetic  dispositions.  The 
stranger  turned  abruptly  from  Butler  as  he  spoke,  but  instantly 
returned,  and,  coming  up  to  him  closely  and  boldly,  said,  in  a 
fierce,  determined  tone :  "  I  have  told  you  who  and  what  I  am ; 
who  and  what  are  you?    What  is  your  name?" 

"  Butler, "  answered  the  person  to  whom  this  abrupt  ques- 
tion was  addressed,  surprised  into  answering  it  by  the  sudden 
and  fierce  manner  of  the  querist:  " Reuben  Butler,  a  preacher 
of  the  Gospel." 

At  this  answer,  the  stranger  again  plucked  more  deep 
over  his  brows  the  hat  which  he  had  thrown  back  in  his  for- 
mer agitation.  "Butler!"  he  repeated,  " the  assistant  of  the 
schoolmaster  at  Liberton?" 

"The  same,"  answered  Butler,  composedly. 

The  stranger  covered  his  face  with  his  hand,  as  if  on  sudden 
reflection,  and  then  turned  away ;  but  stopped  when  he  had 
walked  a  few  paces,  and  seeing  Butler  follow  him  with  his 
eyes,  called  out  in  a  stern  yet  suppressed  tone,  just  as  if  he 
had  exactly  calculated  that  his  accents  should  not  be  heard  a 
yard  beyond  the  spot  on  which  Butler  stood.  "  Go  your  way 
and  do  mine  errand.  Do  not  look  after  me.  I  will  neither 
descend  through  the  bowels  of  these  rocks,  nor  vanish  in  a 
flash  of  fire ;  and  yet  the  eye  that  seeks  to  trace  my  motions 
shall  have  reason  to  curse  it  was  ever  shrouded  by  eyelid  or 
eyelash.  Begone,  and  look  not  behind  you.  Tell  Jeanie 
Deans  that  when  the  moon  rises  I  shall  expect  to  meet  her  at 
Nicol  Muschat's  Cairn,  beneath  St.  Anthony's  Chapel." 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  he  turned  and  took  the  road 
against  the  hill,  with  a  haste  that  seemed  as  peremptory  as 
his  tone  of  authority. 

Dreading  he  knew  not  what  of  additional  misery  to  a  lot 
which  seemed  little  capable  of  receiving  augmentation,  and 
desperate  at  the  idea  that  any  living  man  should  dare  to  send 
so  extraordinary  a  request,  couched  in  terms  so  imperious,  to 
the  half -betrothed  object  of  his  early  and  only  affection,  But- 
ler strode  hastily  towards  the  cottage,  in  order  to  ascertain 
how  far  this  daring  and  rude  gallant  was  actually  entitled  to 


136 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"press  on  Jeanie  Deans  a  request  which  no  prudent,  and  scarce 
any  modest,  young  woman  was  likely  to  comply  with. 

Butler  was  by  nature  neither  jealous  nor  superstitious;  yet 
the  feelings  which  lead  to  those  moods  of  the  mind  were  rooted 
in  his  heart,  as  a  portion  derived  from  the  common  stock  of 
humanity.  It  was  maddening  to  think  that  a  profligate  gal- 
lant, such  as  the  manner  and  tone  of  the  stranger  evinced  him 
to  be,  should  have  it  in  his  power  to  command  forth  his  future 
bride  and  plighted  true  love,  at  a  place  so  improper  and  an 
hour  so  unseasonable.  Yet  the  tone  in  which  the  stranger 
spoke  had  nothing  of  the  soft  half-breathed  voice  proper  to 
the  seducer  who  solicits  an  assignation;  it  was  bold,  fierce, 
and  imperative,  and  had  less  of  love  in  it  than  of  menace  and 
intimidation. 

The  suggestions  of  superstition  seemed  more  plausible,  had 
Butler's  mind  been  very  accessible  to  them.  Was  this  indeed 
the  Roaring  Lion,  who  goeth  about  seeking  whom  he  may 
devour?  This  was  a  question  which  pressed  itself  on  Butler's 
mind  with  an  earnestness  that  cannot  be  conceived  by  those 
who  live  in  the  present  day.  The  fiery  eye,  the  abrupt  de- 
meanour, the  occasionally  harsh,  yet  studiously  subdued,  tone 
of  voice ;  the  features,  handsome,  but  now  clouded  with  pride, 
now  disturbed  by  suspicion,  now  inflamed  with  passion ;  those 
dark  hazel  eyes  which  he  sometimes  shaded  with  his  cap,  as 
if  he  were  averse  to  have  them  seen  while  they  were  occupied 
with  keenly  observing  the  motions  and  bearing  of  others — 
those  eyes  that  were  now  turbid  with  melancholy,  now  gleam- 
ing with  scorn,  and  now  sparkling  with  fury — was  it  the  pas- 
sions of  a  mere  mortal  they  expressed,  or  the  emotions  of  a 
fiend,  who  seeks,  and  seeks  in  vain,  to  conceal  his  fiendish 
designs  under  the  borrowed  mask  of  manly  beauty?  The 
whole  partook  of  the  mien,  language,  and  port  of  the  ruined 
archangel;  and,  imperfectly  as  we  have  been  able  to  describe 
it,  the  effect  of  the  interview  upon  Butler's  nerves,  shaken  as 
they  were  at  the  time  by  the  horrors  of  the  preceding  night, 
was  greater  than  his  understanding  warranted,  or  his  pride 
cared  to  submit  to.  The  very  place  where  he  had  met  this 
singular  person  was  desecrated,  as  it  were,  and  unhallowed, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


137 


owing  to  many  violent  deaths,  both  in  duels  and  by  suicide, 
which  had  in  former  times  taken  place  there;  and  the  place 
which  he  had  named  as  a  rendezvous  at  so  late  an  hour  was 
held  in  general  to  be  accursed,  from  a  frightful  and  cruel  mur- 
der which  had  been  there  committed,  by  the  wretch  from  whom 
the  place  took  its  name,  upon  the  person  of  his  own  wife. 1  It 
was  in  such  places,  according  to  the  belief  of  that  period, 
when  the  laws  against  witchcraft  were  still  in  fresh  obser- 
vance, and  had  even  lately  been  acted  upon,  that  evil  spirits 
had  power  to  make  themselves  visible  to  human  eyes,  and  to 
practise  upon  the  feelings  and  senses  of  mankind.  Suspicions, 
founded  on  such  circumstances,  rushed  on  Butler's  mind,  un- 
prepared as  it  was,  by  any  previous  course  of  reasoning,  to 
deny  that  which  all  of  his  time,  country,  and  profession  be- 
lieved; but  common  sense  rejected  these  vain  ideas  as  incon- 
sistent, if  not  with  possibility,  at  least  with  the  general  rules 
by  which  the  universe  is  governed — a  deviation  from  which, 
as  Butler  well  argued  with  himself,  ought  not  to  be  admitted 
as  probable  upon  any  but  the  plainest  and  most  incontro- 
vertible evidence.  An  earthly  lover,  however,  or  a  young 
man  who,  from  whatever  cause,  had  the  right  of  exercising 
such  summary  and  unceremonious  authority  over  the  object  of 
his  long-settled,  and  apparently  sincerely  returned,  affection, 
was  an  object  scarce  less  appalling  to  his  mind  than  those 
which  superstition  suggested. 

His  limbs  exhausted  with  fatigue,  his  mind  harassed  with 
anxiety,  and  with  painful  doubts  and  recollections,  Butler 
dragged  himself  up  the  ascent  from  the  valley  to  St.  Leonard's 
Crags,  and  presented  himself  at  the  door  of  Deans's  habita- 
tion, with  feelings  much  akin  to  the  miserable  reflections  and 
fears  of  its  inhabitants. 

1  See  Muschat's  Cairn.   Note  17. 


138 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Then  she  stretch'd  out  her  lily  hand, 

And  for  to  do  her  best ; 
"  Hae  back  thy  faith  and  troth,  Willie, 

God  gie  thy  soul  good  rest  !  " 

Old  Ballad. 

"  Come  in, "  answered  the  low  and  sweet-toned  voice  he  loved 
best  to  hear,  as  Butler  tapped  at  the  door  of  the  cottage.  He 
lifted  the  latch,  and  found  himself  under  the  roof  of  affliction. 
Jeanie  was  unable  to  trust  herself  with  more  than  one  glance 
towards  her  lover,  whom  she  now  met  under  circumstances  so 
agonising  to  her  feelings,  and  at  the  same  time  so  humbling 
to  her  honest  pride.  It  is  well  known  that  much  both  of  what 
is  good  and  bad  hi  the  Scottish  national  character  arises  out 
of  the  intimacy  of  their  family  connexions.  "  To  be  come  of 
honest  folk, "  that  is,  of  people  who  have  borne  a  fair  and  un- 
stained reputation,  is  an  advantage  as  highly  prized  among 
the  lower  Scotch  as  the  emphatic  counterpart,  "  to  be  of  a  good 
family,"  is  valued  among  their  gentry.  The  worth  and  re- 
spectability of  one  member  of  a  peasant's  family  is  always 
accounted  by  themselves  and  others  not  only  a  matter  of  honest 
pride,  but  a  guarantee  for  the  good  conduct  of  the  whole.  On 
the  contrary,  such  a  melancholy  stain  as  was  now  flung  on  one 
of  the  children  of  Deans  extended  its  disgrace  to  all  connected 
with  him,  and  Jeanie  felt  herself  lowered  at  once  in  her  own 
eyes  and  in  those  of  her  lover.  It  was  in  vain  that  she  re- 
pressed this  feeling,  as  far  subordinate  and  too  selfish  to  be 
mingled  with  her  sorrow  for  her  sister's  calamity.  Nature 
prevailed;  and  while  she  shed  tears  for  her  sister's  distress 
and  danger,  there  mingled  with  them  bitter  drops  of  grief  for 
her  own  degradation. 

As  Butler  entered,  the  old  man  was  seated  by  the  fire  with 
his  well-worn  pocket  Bible  in  his  hands,  the  companion  of  the 
wanderings  and  dangers  of  his  youth,  and  bequeathed  to  him 
on  the  scaffold  by  one  of  those  who,  in  the  year  1686,  sealed 
their  enthusiastic  principles  with  their  blood.    The  sun  sent 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


139 


its  rays  through  a  small  window  at  the  old  man's  back,  and, 
"  shining  motty  through  the  reek, "  to  use  the  expression  of  a 
bard  of  that  time  and  country,  illumined  the  grey  hairs  of  the 
old  man  and  the  sacred  page  which  he  studied.  His  features, 
far  from  handsome,  and  rather  harsh  and  severe,  had  yet,  from 
their  expression  of  habitual  gravity  and  contempt  foe  earthly 
things,  an  expression  of  stoical  dignity  amidst  their  starnness. 
He  boasted,  in  no  small  degree,  the  attributes  which  Southey 
ascribes  to  the  ancient  Scandinavians,  whom  he  terms  "  firm 
to  inflict  and  stubborn  to  endure. "  The  whole  formed  a  pic- 
ture, of  which  the  lights  might  have  been  given  by  Kembrandt, 
but  the  outline  would  have  required  the  force  and  vigour  of 
Michael  Angelo. 

Deans  lifted  his  eye  as  Butler  entered,  and  instantly  with- 
drew it,  as  from  an  object  which  gave  him  at  once  surprise 
and  sudden  pain.  He  had  assumed  such  high  ground  with 
this  carnal-witted  scholar,  as  he  had  in  his  pride  termed  But- 
ler, that  to  meet  him  of  all  men  under  feelings  of  humiliation 
aggravated  his  misfortune,  and  was  a  consummation  like  that 
of  the  dying  chief  in  the  old  ballad :  "  Earl  Percy  sees  my 
fell!" 

Deans  raised  the  Bible  with  his  left  hand,  so  as  partly  to 
screen  his  face,  and  putting  back  his  right  as  far  as  he  could, 
held  it  towards  Butler  in  that  position,  at  the  same  time  turn- 
ing his  body  from  him,  as  if  to  prevent  his  seeing  the  working 
of  his  countenance.  Butler  clasped  the  extended  hand  which 
had  supported  his  orphan  infancy,  wept  over  it,  and  in  vain 
endeavoured  to  say  more  than  the  words :  "  God  comfort 
you — God  comfort  you!" 

"  He  will — He  doth,  my  friend,"  said  Deans,  assuming  firm- 
ness as  he  discovered  the  agitation  of  his  guest ;  "  He  doth 
now,  and  He  will  yet  more,  in  His  own  gude  time.  I  have 
been  ower  proud  of  my  sufferings  in  a  gude  cause,  Keuben, 
and  now  I  am  to  be  tried  with  those  whilk  will  turn  my  pride 
and  glory  into  a  reproach  and  a  hissing.  How  muckle  better 
I  hae  thought  mysell  than  them  that  lay  saft,  fed  sweet,  and 
drank  deep,  when  I  was  in  the  moss-hags  and  moors,  wi'  pre- 
cious Donald  TRichard]  Cameron,  and  worthy  Mr.  Blackadder, 


140 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


called  Guessagain;  and  how  proud  I  was  o'  being  made  a 
spectacle  to  men  and  angels,  having  stood  on  their  pillory  at 
the  Canongate  afore  I  was  fifteen  years  old,  for  the  cause  of  a 
National  Covenant!  To  think,  Eeuben,  that  I,  wha  hae  been 
sae  honoured  and  exalted  in  my  youth,  nay,  when  I  was  but 
a  hafnins  callant,  and  that  hae  borne  testimony  again  the  de- 
fections o'  the  times,  yearly,  monthly,  daily,  hourly,  minute- 
ly, striving  and  testifying  with  uplifted  hand  and  voice,  cry- 
ing aloud,  and  sparing  not,  against  all  great  national  snares,  as 
the  nation-wasting  and  church-sinking  abomination  of  union, 
toleration,  and  patronage,  imposed  by  the  last  woman  of  that 
unhappy  race  of  Stuarts,  also  against  the  infringements  and 
invasions  of  the  just  powers  of  eldership,  whereanent  I  uttered 
my  paper,  called  a  'Cry  of  an  Howl  in  the  Desert,'  printed  at 
the  Bow-head,  and  sold  by  all  flying  stationers  in  town  and 
country — and  now  99 

Here  he  paused.  It  may  well  be  supposed  that  Butler, 
though  not  absolutely  coinciding  in  all  the  good  old  man's 
ideas  about  church  government,  had  too  much  consideration 
and  humanity  to  interrupt  him,  while  he  reckoned  up  with 
conscious  pride  his  sufferings,  and  the  constancy  of  his  testi- 
mony. On  the  contrary,  when  he  paused  under  the  influence 
of  the  bitter  recollections  of  the  moment,  Butler  instantly 
threw  in  his  mite  of  encouragement. 

"  You  have  been  well  known,  my  old  and  revered  friend,  a 
true  and  tried  follower- of  the  Cross;  one  who,  as  St.  Jerome 
hath  it,  'per  infamiam  et  bonamfamam  grassari  ad  immorta- 
litatem,9  which  may  be  freely  rendered,  'who  rusheth  on  to 
immortal  life,  through  bad  report  and  good  report.'  You 
have  been  one  of  those  to  whom  the  tender  and  fearful  souls 
cry  during  the  midnight  solitude:  'Watchman,  what  of  the 
night? — Watchman,  what  of  the  night?'  And,  assuredly, 
this  heavy  dispensation,  as  it  comes  not  without  Divine  per- 
mission, so  it  comes  not  without  its  special  commission  and 
use." 

"  I  do  receive  it  as  such, 99  said  poor  Deans,  returning  the 
grasp  of  Butler's  hand;  "and,  if  I  have  not  been  taught  to 
read  the  Scripture  in  any  other  tongue  but  my  native  Scottist 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


141 


(even  in  his  distress  Butler's  Latin  quotation  had  not  escaped 
his  notice),  I  have,  nevertheless,  so  learned  them,  that  I  trust 
to  bear  even  this  crook  in  my  lot  with  submission.  But  oh, 
Eeuben  Butler,  the  kirk,  of  whilk,  though  unworthy,  I  have 
yet  been  thought  a  polished  shaft,  and  meet  to  be  a  pillar, 
holding,  from  my  youth  upward,  the  place  of  ruling  elder — 
what  will  the  lightsome  and  profane  think  of  the  guide  that 
cannot  keep  his  own  family  from  stumbling?  How  will  they 
take  up  their  song  and  their  reproach,  when  they  see  that  the 
children  of  professors  are  liable  to  as  foul  backsliding  as  the 
offspring  of  Belial !  But  I  will  bear  my  cross  with  the  com- 
fort, that  whatever  showed  like  goodness  in  me  or  mine,  was 
but  like  the  light  that  shines  frae  creeping  insects,  on  the 
brae-side,  in  a  dark  night :  it  kythes  bright  to  the  ee,  because 
all  is  dark  around  it ;  but  when  the  morn  comes  on  the  moun- 
tains, it  is  but  a  puir  crawling  kail-worm  after  a\  And  sae 
it  shows  wi?  ony  rag  of  human  righteousness,  or  formal  law- 
work,  that  we  may  pit  round  us  to  cover  our  shame. " 

As  he  pronounced  these  words,  the  door  again  opened,  and 
Mr.  Bartoline  Saddletree  entered,  his  three-pointed  hat  set 
far  back  on  his  head,  with  a  silk  handkerchief  beneath  it,  to 
keep  it  in  that  cool  position,  his  gold-headed  cane  in  his  hand, 
and  his  whole  deportment  that  of  a  wealthy  burgher,  who 
might  one  day  look  to  have  a  share  in  the  magistracy,  if  not 
actually  to  hold  the  curule  chair  itself. 

Bochefoucault,  who  has  torn  the  veil  from  so  many  foul 
gangrenes  of  the  human  heart,  says,  we  find  something  not 
altogether  unpleasant  to  us  in  the  misfortunes  of  our  best 
friends.  Mr.  Saddletree  would  have  been  very  angry  had  any 
one  told  him  that  he  felt  pleasure  in  the  disaster  of  poor  Effie 
Deans  and  the  disgrace  of  her  family ;  and  yet  there  is  great 
question  whether  the  gratification  of  playing  the  person  of  im- 
portance, inquiring,  investigating,  and  laying  down  the  law  on 
the  whole  affair,  did  not  offer,  to  sa}T  the  least,  full  consolation 
for  the  pain  which  pure  sympathy  give  him  on  account  of  his 
wife's  kinswoman.  He  had  now  got  a  piece  of  real  judicial 
business  by  the  end,  instead  of  being  obliged,  as  was  his  com- 
mon case,  to  intrude  his  opinion  where  it  was  neither  wished 


142 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


nor  wanted;  and  felt  as  happy  in  the  exchange  as  a  boy  when 
he  gets  his  first  new  watch,  which  actually  goes  when  wound 
up,  and  has  real  hands  and  a  true  dial-plate.  But  besides  this 
subject  for  legal  disquisition,  Bartoline's  brains  were  also 
overloaded  with  the  affair  of  Porteous,  his  violent  death,  and 
all  its  probable  consequences  to  the  city  and  community.  It 
was  what  the  French  call  V embarras  des  richesses,  the  confusion 
arising  from  too  much  mental  wealth.  He  walked  in  with  a 
consciousness  of  double  importance,  full  fraught  with  the 
superiority  of  one  who  possesses  more  information  than  the 
company  into  which  he  enters,  and  who  feels  a  right  to  dis- 
charge his  learning  on  them  without  mercy.  "  Good  morning, 
Mr.  Deans.  Good-morrow  to  you,  Mr.  Butler;  I  was  not 
aware  that  you  were  acquainted  with  Mr.  Deans. " 

Butler  made  some  slight  answer ;  his  reasons  may  be  readily 
imagined  for  not  making  his  connexion  with  the  family,  which, 
in  his  eyes,  had  something  of  tender  mystery,  a  frequent 
subject  of  conversation  with  indifferent  persons,  such  as  Sad- 
dletree. 

The  worthy  burgher,  in  the  plenitude  of  self-importance, 
now  sate  down  upon  a  chair,  wiped  his  brow,  collected  his 
breath,  and  made  the  first  experiment  of  the  resolved  pith  of 
his  lungs  in  a  deep  and  dignified  sigh,  resembling  a  groan 
in  sound  and  intonation:  "Awfu?  times  these,  neighbour 
Deans — awfu'  times!" 

"  Sinfu',  shamefu',  Heaven-daring  times, "  answered  Deans, 
in  a  lower  and  more  subdued  tone. 

"  For  my  part, "  continued  Saddletree,  swelling  with  impor- 
tance, "  what  between  the  distress  of  my  friends  and  my  poor 
auld  country,  ony  wit  that  ever  I  had  may  be  said  to  have 
abandoned  me,  sae  that  I  sometimes  think  myself  as  ignorant 
as  if  I  were  inter  rusticos.  Here  when  I  arise  in  the  morning, 
wi'  my  mind  just  arranged  touching  what's  to  be  done  in  puir 
Erne's  misfortune,  and  hae  gotten  the  haill  statute  at  my  finger- 
ends,  the  mob  maun  get  up  and  string  Jock  Porteous  to  a 
dyester's  beam,  and  ding  a'thing  out  of  my  head  again." 

Deeply  as  he  was  distressed  with  his  own  domestic  calamity, 
Deans  could  not  help  expressing  some  interest  in  the  news. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


143 


Saddletree  immediately  entered  on  details  of  the  insurrection 
and  its  consequences,  while  Butler  took  the  occasion  to  seek 
some  private  conversation  with  Jeanie  Deans.  She  gave  him 
the  opportunity  he  sought,  by  leaving  the  room,  as  if  in  prose- 
cution of  some  part  of  her  morning  labour.  Butler  followed 
her  in  a  few  minutes,  leaving  Deans  so  closely  engaged  by  his 
busy  visitor  that  there  was  little  chance  of  his  observing  their 
absence. 

The  scene  of  their  interview  was  an  outer  apartment,  where 
Jeanie  was  used  to  busy  herself  in  arranging  the  produc- 
tions of  her  dairy.  When  Butler  found  an  opportunity  of 
stealing  after  her  into  this  place,  he  found  her  silent,  dejected, 
and  ready  to  burst  into  tears.  Instead  of  the  active  industry 
with  which  she  had  been  accustomed,  even  while  in  the  act  of 
speaking,  to  employ  her  hands  in  some  useful  branch  of  house- 
hold business,  she  was  seated  listless  in  a  corner,  sinking  ap- 
parently under  the  weight  of  her  own  thoughts.  Yet  the 
instant  he  entered,  she  dried  her  eyes,  and,  with  the  simplic- 
ity and  openness  of  her  character,  immediately  entered  on 
conversation. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  come  in,  Mr.  Butler, "  said  she, 
"for — for — for  I  wished  to  tell  ye,  that  all  maun  be  ended 
between  you  and  me;  it's  best  for  baith  our  sakes." 

"Ended!"  said  Butler,  in  surprise;  "  and  for  what  should 
it  be  ended?  I  grant  this  is  a  heavy  dispensation,  but  it  lies 
neither  at  your  door  nor  mine:  it's  an  evil  of  God's  sending, 
and  it  must  be  borne;  but  it  cannot  break  plighted  troth, 
Jeanie,  while  they  that  plighted  their  word  wish  to  keep  it." 

"But,  Reuben,"  said  the  young  woman,  looking  at  him 
affectionately,  "I  ken  weel  that  ye  think  mair  of  me  than 
yourself;  and,  Reuben,  I  can  only  in  requital  think  mair  of 
your  weal  than  of  my  ain.  Ye  are  a  man  of  spotless  name, 
bred  to  God's  ministry,  and  a'  men  say  that  ye  will  some  day 
rise  high  in  the  kirk,  though  poverty  keep  ye  down  e'en  now. 
Poverty  is  a  bad  back-friend,  Reuben,  and  that  ye  ken  ower 
weel;  but  ill-fame  is  a  waur  ane,  and  that  is  a  truth  ye  sail 
never  learn  through  my  means." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Butler,  eagerly  and  impatiently ; 


144 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"or  how  do  you  connect  your  sister's  guilt,  if  guilt  there  be, 
which,  I  trust  in  God,  may  yet  be  disproved,  with  our  engage- 
ment?   How  can  that  affect  you  or  me?" 

"How  can  you  ask  me  that,  Mr.  Butler?  "Will  this  stain, 
d'ye  think,  ever  be  forgotten,  as  lang  as  our  heads  are  abune 
the  grund?  Will  it  not  stick  to  us,  and  to  our  bairns,  and  to 
their  very  bairns'  bairns?  To  hae  been  the  child  of  an  honest 
man  might  hae  been  saying  something  for  me  and  mine;  but 
to  be  the  sister  of  a  0  my  God!"  With  this  exclama- 
tion her  resolution  failed,  and  she  burst  into  a  passionate  fit 
of  tears. 

The  lover  used  every  effort  to  induce  her  to  compose  her- 
self, and  at  length  succeeded;  but  she  only  resumed  her 
composure  to  express  herself  with  the  same  positiveness  as 
before.  "No,  Reuben,  I'll  bring  disgrace  hame  to  nae 
man's  hearth;  my  ain  distresses  I  can  bear,  and  I  maun 
bear,  but  there  is  nae  occasion  for  buckling  them  on  other 
folks'  shouthers.  I  will  bear  my  load  alone;  the  back  is 
made  for  the  burden." 

A  lover  is  by  charter  wayward  and  suspicious ;  and  Jeanie's 
readiness  to  renounce  their  engagement,  under  pretence  of  zeal 
of  his  peace  of  mind  and  respectability  of  character,  seemed  to 
poor  Butler  to  form  a  portentous  combination  with  the  com- 
mission of  the  stranger  he  had  met  with  that  morning.  His 
voice  faltered  as  he  asked :  "  Whether  nothing  but  a  sense  of 
her  sister's  present  distress  occasioned  her  to  talk  in  that 
manner?" 

"And  what  else  can  do  sae?"  she  replied  with  simplicity. 
"Is  it  not  ten  long  years  since  we  spoke  together  in  this 

way?" 

"Ten  years?"  said  Butler.  "It's  a  long  time,  sufficient, 
perhaps,  for  a  woman  to  weary  " 

"  To  weary  of  her  auld  gown, "  said  Jeanie,  "  and  to  wish 
for  a  new  ane,  if  she  likes  to  be  brave,  but  not  long  enough 
to  weary  of  a  friend.  The  eye  may  wish  change,  but  the 
heart  never." 

"Never!"  said  Reuben;  "that's  a  bold  promise." 

"  But  not  more  bauld  than  true, "  said  Jeanie,  with  the  same 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  145 


quiet  simplicity  which  attended  her  manner  in  joy  and  grief, 
in  ordinary  affairs,  and  in  those  which  most  interested  her 
feelings. 

Butler  paused,  and,  looking  at  her  fixedly, — "  I  am  charged," 
he  said,  "with  a  message  to  you,  Jeanie." 

"  Indeed!  From  whom?  Or  what  can  ony  ane  have  to  say 
to  me?" 

"  It  is  from  a  stranger, "  said  Butler,  affecting  to  speak  with 
an  indifference  which  his  voice  belied,  "  a  young  man  whom  I 
met  this  morning  in  the  Park." 

"Mercy!"  said  Jeanie,  eagerly;  " and  what  did  he  say?" 

"  That  he  did  not  see  you  at  the  hour  he  expected,  but  re- 
quired you  should  meet  him  alone  at  Muschat's  Cairn  this 
night,  so  soon  as  the  moon  rises." 

"Tell  him,"  said  Jeanie,  hastily,  "I  shall  certainly  come." 

"  May  I  ask, "  said  Butler,  his  suspicions  increasing  at  the 
ready  alacrity  of  the  answer,  "  who  this  man  is  to  whom  you 
are  so  willing  to  give  the  meeting  at  a  place  and  hour  so 
uncommon?" 

"  Folk  maun  do  muckle  they  have  little  will  to  do  in  this 
world, "  replied  Jeanie. 

"Granted,"  said  her  lover;  "but  what  compels  you  to  this? 
Who  is  this  person?  What  I  saw  of  him  was  not  very 
favourable.    Who  or  what  is  he?" 

"I  do  not  know!"  replied  Jeanie,  composedly. 

"You  do  not  know?"  said  Butler,  stepping  impatiently 
through  the  apartment.  "  You  purpose  to  meet  a  young  man 
whom  you  do  not  know,  at  such  a  time  and  in  a  place  so  lonely ; 
you  say  you  are  compelled  to  do  this,  and  yet  you  say  you  do 
not  know  the  person  who  exercises  such  an  influence  over  you! 
Jeanie,  what  am  I  to  think  of  this?" 

"  Think  only,  Eeuben,  that  I  speak  truth,  as  if  I  were  to 
answer  at  the  last  day.  I  do  not  ken  this  man,  I  do  not  even 
ken  that  I  ever  saw  him ;  and  yet  I  must  give  him  the  meeting 
he  asks,  there's  life  and  death  upon  it." 

"  Will  you  not  tell  your  father,  or  take  him  with  you?"  said 
Butler. 

"I  cannot,"  said  Jeanie;  "I  have  no  permission." 
10 


146 


WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS. 


"  Will  you  let  me  go  with  you?  I  will  wait  in  the  Park 
till  nightfall,  and  join  you  when  you  set  out." 

"  It  is  impossible, "  said  Jeanie ;  "  there  maunna  be  mortal 
creature  within  hearing  of  our  conference." 

"  Have  you  considered  well  the  nature  of  what  you  are  going 
to  do? — the  time,  the  place,  an  unknown  and  suspicious 
character?  Why,  if  he  had  asked  to  see  you  in  this  house, 
your  father  sitting  in  the  next  room,  and  within  call,  at  such 
an  hour,  you  should  have  refused  to  see  him." 

"  My  weird  maun  be  fulfilled,  Mr.  Butler.  My  life  and  my 
safety  are  in  God's  hands,  but  I'll  not  spare  to  risk  either  of 
them  on  the  errand  I  am  gaun  to  do. " 

"Then,  Jeanie,"  said  Butler,  much  displeased,  "we  must 
indeed  break  short  off,  and  bid  farewell.  When  there  can  be 
no  confidence  betwixt  a  man  and  his  plighted  wife  on  such  a 
momentous  topic,  it  is  a  sign  that  she  has  no  longer  the  regard 
for  him  that  makes  their  engagement  safe  and  suitable." 

Jeanie  looked  at  him  and  sighed.  "  I  thought, "  she  said, 
"that  I  had  brought  myself  to  bear  this  parting;  but — but — 
I  did  not  ken  that  we  were  to  part  in  unkindness.  But  I  am 
a  woman  and  you  are  a  man,  it  may  be  different  wi'  you;  if 
your  mind  is  made  easier  by  thinking  sae  hardly  of  me,  I 
would  not  ask  you  to  think  otherwise." 

"  You  are, "  said  Butler,  "  what  you  have  always  been — 
wiser,  better,  and  less  selfish  in  your  native  feelings  than  can 
I  be  with  all  the  helps  philosophy  can  give  to  a  Christian. 
But  why — why  will  you  persevere  in  an  undertaking  so  des- 
perate? Why  will  you  not  let  me  be  your  assistant,  your  pro- 
tector, or  at  least  your  adviser?" 

"Just  because  I  cannot,  and  I  dare  not,"  answered  Jeanie. 
"But  hark,  what's  that?    Surely  my  father  is  no  weel?" 

In  fact,  the  voices  in  the  next  room  became  obstreperously 
loud  of  a  sudden,  the  cause  of  which  vociferation  it  is  necessary 
to  explain  before  we  go  farther. 

When  Jeanie  and  Butler  retired,  Mr.  Saddletree  entered 
upon  the  business  which  chiefly  interested  the  family.  In  the 
commencement  of  their  conversation  he  found  old  Deans,  who, 
in  his  usual  state  of  mind,  was  no  granter  of  propositions,  so 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


147 


much  subdued  by  a  deep  sense  of  his  daughter's  danger  and 
disgrace  that  he  heard  without  replying  to,  or  perhaps  without 
understanding,  one  or  two  learned  disquisitions  on  the  nature 
of  the  crime  imputed  to  her  charge,  and  on  the  steps  which 
ought  to  be  taken  in  consequence.  His  only  answer  at  each 
pause  was :  c<  I  am  no  misdoubting  that  you  wuss  us  weel, 
your  wife's  our  far-awa'  cousin." 

Encouraged  by  these  symptoms  of  acquiescence,  Saddletree, 
who,  as  an  amateur  of  the  law,  had  a  supreme  deference  for 
all  constituted  authorities,  again  recurred  to  his  other  topic  of 
interest,  the  murder,  namely,  of  Porteous,  and  pronounced  a 
severe  censure  on  the  parties  concerned. 

"  These  are  kittle  times — kittle  times,  Mr.  Deans,  when  the 
people  take  the  power  of  life  and  death  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
rightful  magistrate  into  their  ain  rough  grip.  I  am  of  opin- 
ion, and  so,  I  believe,  will  Mr.  Crossmyloof  and  the  privy 
council,  that  this  rising  in  effeir  of  war,  to  take  away  the  life 
of  a  reprieved  man,  will  prove  little  better  than  perduellion." 

"  If  I  hadna  that  on  my  mind  whilk  is  ill  to  bear,  Mr.  Sad- 
dletree, "  said  Deans,  "  I  wad  make  bold  to  dispute  that  point 
wi'  you." 

"How  could  ye  dispute  what's  plain  law,  man?"  said  Sad- 
dletree, somewhat  contemptuously;  "there's  no  a  callant  that 
e'er  carried  a  pock  wi'  a  process  in't,  but  will  tell  you  that 
perduellion  is  the  warst  and  maist  virulent  kind  of  treason, 
being  an  open  convocating  of  the  king's  lieges  against  his  au- 
thority, mair  especially  in  arms,  and  by  touk  of  drum,  to  baith 
whilk  accessories  my  een  and  lugs  bore  witness,  and  muckle 
warse  than  lese-majesty,  or  the  concealment  of  a  treasonable 
purpose.    It  wiima  bear  a  dispute,  neighbour." 

"But  it  will,  though,"  retorted  Douce  Davie  Deans;  "I 
tell  ye  it  will  bear  a  dispute.  I  never  like  your  cauld,  legal, 
formal  doctrines,  neighbour  Saddletree.  I  haud  unco  little 
by  the  Parliament  House,  since  the  awfu'  downfall  of  the 
hopes  of  honest  folk  that  followed  the  Revolution." 

"But  what  wad  ye  hae  had,  Mr.  Deans?"  said  Saddletree, 
impatiently ;  "  didna  ye  get  baith  liberty  and  conscience  made 
fast,  and  settled  by  tailzie  on  you  and  your  heirs  for  ever?" 


148 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"Mr.  Saddletree,"  retorted  Deans,  "I  ken  ye  are  one  of 
those  that  are  wise  after  the  manner  of  this  world,  and  that 
ye  haud  your  part,  and  cast  in  your  portion,  wi'  the  lang-heads 
and  lang-gowns,  and  keep  with  the  smart  witty-pated  lawyers 
of  this  our  land.  Weary  on  the  dark  and  dolefu'  cast  that 
they  hae  gien  this  unhappy  kingdom,  when  their  black  hands 
of  defection  were  clasped  in  the  red  hands  of  our  sworn  mur- 
therers;  when  those  who  had  numbered  the  towers  of  our 
Zion,  and  marked  the  bulwarks  of  our  Eeformation,  saw  their 
hope  turn  into  a  snare  and  their  rejoicing  into  weeping." 

"I  canna understand  this,  neighbour,"  answered  Saddletree. 
"  I  am  an  honest  Presbyterian  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  and 
stand  by  her  and  the  General  Assembly,  and  the  due  admin- 
istration of  justice  by  the  fifteen  Lords  o'  Session  and  the  five 
Lords  o'  Justiciary." 

"Out  upon  ye,  Mr.  Saddletree!"  exclaimed  David,  who,  in 
an  opportunity  of  giving  his  testimony  on  the  offences  and 
backslidings  of  the  land,  forgot  for  a  moment  his  own  domes- 
tic calamity — "out  upon  your  General  Assembly,  and  the  back 
of  my  hand  to  your  Court  o'  Session!  What  is  the  tane  but 
a  waefu'  bunch  o?  cauldrif e  professors  and  ministers,  that  sate 
bien  and  warm  when  the  persecuted  remnant  were  warstling 
wi?  hunger,  and  cauld,  and  fear  of  death,  and  danger  of  fire 
and  sword,  upon  wet  brae-sides,  peat-hags,  and  flow-mosses, 
and  that  now  creep  out  of  their  holes,  like  bluebottle  flees  in 
a  blink  of  sunshine,  to  take  the  pu'pits  and  places  of  better 
folk — of  them  that  witnessed,  and  testified,  and  fought,  and 
endured  pit,  prison-house,  and  transportation  beyond  seas? 
A  bonny  bike  there's  o?  them!  And  for  your  Court  o?  Ses- 
sion " 

"  Ye  may  say  what  ye  will  o?  the  General  Assembly,"  said 
Saddletree,  interrupting  him,  "  and  let  them  clear  them  that 
kens  them ;  but  as  for  the  Lords  o?  Session,  forbye  that  they 
are  my  next-door  neighbours,  I  would  have  ye  ken,  for  your 
ain  regulation,  that  to  raise  scandal  anent  them,  whilk  is 
termed,  to  ' murmur  again'  them,  is  a  crime  sui  generis — sui 
generis,  Mr.  Deans ;  ken  ye  what  that  amounts  to?" 

"I  ken  little  o?  the  language  of  Antichrist,"  said  Deans \ 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


149 


"  and  I  care  less  than  little  what  carnal  courts  may  call  the 
speeches  of  honest  men.  And  as  to  murmur  again  them,  it's 
what  a'  the  folk  that  loses  their  pleas,  and  nine-tenths  o' 
them  that  win  them,  will  be  gay  sure  to  be  guilty  in.  Sae 
I  wad  hae  ye  ken  that  I  haud  a'  your  gleg-tongued  advo- 
cates, that  sell  their  knowledge  for  pieces  of  silver,  and  your 
worldly-wise  judges,  that  will  gie  three  days  of  hearing  in 
presence  to  a  debate  about  the  peeling  of  an  ingan,  and  no  ae 
half -hour  to  the  Gospel  testimony,  as  legalists  and  formalists, 
countenancing,  by  sentences,  and  quirks,  and  cunning  terms 
of  law,  the  late  begun  courses  of  national  defections — union, 
toleration,  patronages,  and  Ferastian  prelatic  oaths.  As  for 
the  soul  and  body-killing  Court  o'  Justiciary  " 

The  habit  of  considering  his  life  as  dedicated  to  bear  testi- 
mony in  behalf  of  what  he  deemed  the  suffering  and  deserted 
cause  of  true  religion  had  swept  honest  David  along  with  it 
thus  far;  but  with  the  mention  of  the  criminal  court,  the  rec- 
ollection of  the  disastrous  condition  of  his  daughter  rushed 
at  once  on  his  mind;  he  stopped  short  in  the  midst  of  his  tri- 
umphant declamation,  pressed  his  hands  against  his  forehead, 
and  remained  silent. 

Saddletree  was  somewhat  moved,  but  apparently  not  so 
much  so  as  to  induce  him  to  relinquish  the  privilege  of  prosing 
in  his  turn,  afforded  him  by  David's  sudden  silence.  "Nae 
doubt,  neighbour/'  he  said,  "it's  a  sair  thing  to  hae  to  do  wi? 
courts  of  law,  unless  it  be  to  improve  ane's  knowledge  and 
practique,  by  waiting  on  as  a  hearer;  and  touching  this  un- 
happy affair  of  Effie — ye'll  hae  seen  the  dittay,  doubtless?" 
He  dragged  out  of  his  pocket  a  bundle  of  papers,  and  began 
to  turn  them  over.  "  This  is  no  it :  this  is  the  information  of 
Mungo  Marsport,  of  that  ilk,  against  Captain  Lackland,  for 
coming  on  his  lands  of  Marsport  with  hawks,  hounds,  lying- 
dogs,  nets,  guns,  cross-bows,  hagbuts  of  found,  or  other  en- 
gines more  or  less  for  destruction  of  game,  sic  as  red-deer, 
fallow-deer,  caper-cailzies,  grey-fowl,  moor-fowl,  paitricks, 
herons,  and  sic-like;  he  the  said  defender  not  being  ane 
qualified  person,  in  terms  of  the  statute  1621 ;  that  is,  not 
having  ane  plough-gate  of  land.    Now,  the  defences  proponed 


150 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


say  that  non  constat  at  this  present  what  is  a  plough-gate  of 
land,  whilk  uncertainty  is  sufficient  to  elide  the  conclusions 
of  the  libel.  But  then  the  answers  to  the  defences — they  are 
signed  by  Mr.  Crossmyloof,  but  Mr.  Younglad  drew  them — 
they  propone  that  it  signifies  naething  in  hoc  statu,  what  or 
how  muckle  a  plough-gate  of  land  may  be,  in  respect  the  de- 
fender has  nae  lands  whatsoe'er,  less  or  mair.  'Sae  grant  a 
plough-gate  (here  Saddletree  read  from  the  paper  in  his  hand) 
to  be  less  than  the  nineteenth  part  of  a  guse's  grass' — I  trow 
Mr.  Crossmyloof  put  in  that,  I  ken  his  style — 'of  a  guse's 
grass,  what  the  better  will  the  defender  be,  seeing  he  hasna  a 
divot-cast  of  land  in  Scotland?  Advocatus  for  Lackland  duplies 
that,  nihil  interest  de  possessionem  the  pursuer  must  put  his 
case  under  the  statute' — now  this  is  worth  your  notice,  neigh- 
bour— 'and  must  show,  formaliter  et  sjjecialiter,  as  well  as  gene- 
raliter,  what  is  the  qualification  that  defender  Lackland  does 
not  possess :  let  him  tell  me  what  a  plough-gate  of  land  is, 
and  I'll  tell  him  if  I  have  one  or  no.  Surely  the  pursuer  is 
bound  to  understand  his  own  libel  and  his  own  statute  that  he 
founds  upon.  Titius  pursues  Msevius  for  recovery  of  ane  black 
horse  lent  to  Msevius ;  surely  he  shall  have  judgment.  But  if 
Titius  pursue  Maevius  for  ane  scarlet  or  crimson  horse,  doubt- 
less he  shall  be  bound  to  show  that  there  is  sic  ane  animal  in 
rerum  natura.  No  man  can  be  bound  to  plead  to  nonsense, 
that  is  to  say,  to  a  charge  which  cannot  be  explained  or  under- 
stood'— he's  wrang  there,  the  better  the  pleadings  the  fewer 
understand  them — 'and  so  the  reference  unto  this  undefined 
and  unintelligible  measure  of  land  is,  as  if  a  penalty  was  in- 
flicted by  statute  for  any  man  who  suld  hunt  or  hawk,  or  use 
lying-dogs,  and  wearing  a  sky-blue  pair  of  breeches,  without 

having  '    But  I  am  wearying  you,  Mr.  Deans ;  we'll  pass 

to  your  ain  business,  though  this  case  of  Marsport  against 
Lackland  has  made  an  unco  din  in  the  Outer  House.  Weel, 
here's  the  dittay  against  puir  Effie:  'Whereas  it  is  humbly 
meant  and  shown  to  us,'  etc. — they  are  words  of  mere  style — 
'that  whereas,  by  the  laws  of  this  and  every  other  well-regu- 
lated realm,  the  murder  of  any  one,  more  especially  of  an 
infant  child,  is  a  crime  of  ane  high  nature,  and  severely 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


151 


punishable:  And  whereas,  without  prejudice  to  the  foresaid 
generality,  it  was,  by  ane  act  made  in  the  second  session  of 
the  First  Parliament  of  our  most  High  and  Dread  Soveraigns 
William  and  Mary,  especially  enacted,  that  ane  woman  who 
shall  have  concealed  her  condition,  and  shall  not  be  able  to 
show  that  she  hath  called  for  help  at  the  birth,  in  case  that 
the  child  shall  be  found  dead  or  amissing,  shall  be  deemed 
and  held  guilty  of  the  murder  thereof;  and  the  said  facts  of 
concealment  and  pregnancy  being  found  proven  or  confessed, 
shall  sustain  the  pains  of  law  accordingly ;  yet,  nevertheless, 

you,  Erne  or  Euphemia  Deans  '  " 

"Bead  no  farther !"  said  Deans,  raising  his  head  up;  "I 
would  rather  ye  thrust  a  sword  into  my  heart  than  read  a 
word  farther!" 

"  Weel,  neighbour, "  said  Saddletree,  "  I  thought  it  wad  hae 
comforted  ye  to  ken  the  best  and  the  warst  o't.  But  the 
question  is,  what's  to  be  dune?" 

"  Nothing, "  answered  Deans,  firmly,  "  but  to  abide  the  dis- 
pensation that  the  Lord  sees  meet  to  send  us.  Oh,  if  it  had 
been  His  will  to  take  the  grey  head  to  rest  before  this  awful 
visitation  on  my  house  and  name !  But  His  will  be  done.  I 
can  say  that  yet,  though  I  can  say  little  mair." 

"But,  neighbour,"  said  Saddletree,  "ye'll  retain  advocates 
for  the  puir  lassie?  it's  a  thing  maun  needs  be  thought  of." 

"  If  there  was  ae  man  of  them, "  answered  Deans,  "  that  held 
fast  his  integrity — but  I  ken  them  weel,  they  are  a'  carnal, 
crafty,  and  warld-hunting  self-seekers,  Yerastians  and  Ar- 
minians,  every  ane  o'  them." 

"Hout  tout,  neighbour,  ye  maunna  take  the  warld  at  its 
word,"  said  Saddletree;  "the  very  deil  is  no  sae  ill  as  he's 
ca'd;  and  I  ken  mair  than  ae  advocate  that  may  be  said  to  hae 
some  integrity  as  weel  as  their  neighbours;  that  is,  after  a 
sort  o'  fashion  o'  their  ain." 

"  It  is  indeed  but  a  fashion  of  integrity  that  ye  will  find 
amang  them, "  replied  David  Deans,  "  and  a  fashion  of  wisdom, 
and  fashion  of  carnal  learning — gazing  glancing-glasses  they 
are,  fit  only  to  fling  the  glaiks  in  folks'  een,  wi'  their  pawky 
policy,  and  earthly  ingine,  their  flights  and  refinements,  and 


152 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


periods  of  eloquence,  frae  heathen  emperors  and  popish  canons. 
They  canna,  in  that  daft  trash  ye  were  reading  to  me,  sae 
muckle  as  ca'  men  that  are  sae  ill-starred  as  to  be  amang  their 
hands  by  ony  name  o'  the  dispensation  o'  grace,  but  maun  new 
baptize  them  by  the  names  of  the  accursed  Titus,  wha  was 
made  the  instrument  of  burning  the  holy  Temple,  and  other 
sic  like  heathens." 

"  It's  Tishius,"  interrupted  Saddletree,  "  and  no  Titus.  Mr. 
Crossmyloof  cares  as  little  about  Titus  or  the  Latin  learning 
as  ye  do.  But  it's  a  case  of  necessity :  she  maun  hae  counsel. 
Now,  I  could  speak  to  Mr.  Crossmyloof;  he's  weel  kenn'd  for 
a  round-spun  Presbyterian,  and  a  ruling  elder  to  boot." 

"  He's  a  rank  Yerastian, "  replied  Deans ;  "  one  of  the  public 
and  polititious  warldly-wise  men  that  stude  up  to  prevent  ane 
general  owning  of  the  cause  in  the  day  of  power." 

"  What  say  ye  to  the  auld  Laird  of  Cuff  about?"  said  Sad- 
dletree ;  "  he  whiles  thumps  the  dust  out  of  a  case  gay  and 
weel. " 

"He!  the  fause  loon!"  answered  Deans.  "He  was  in  his 
bandaliers  to  hae  joined  the  ungracious  Highlanders  in  1715, 
an  they  had  ever  had  the  luck  to  cross  the  Firth." 

"Weel,  Arniston?  there's  a  clever  chield  for  ye!"  said 
Bartoline,  triumphantly. 

"Ay,  to  bring  popish  medals  in  till  their  very  library 
from  that  schismatic  woman  in  the  north,  the  Duchess  of 
Gordon."  1 

"  Weel,  weel,  but  somebody  ye  maun  hae.  What  think  ye 
o'  Kittlepunt?" 

"He's  an  Arminian." 

"Woodsetter?" 

"He's,  I  doubt,  a  Cocceian." 

"  Auld  Whilliewhaw?" 

"He's  ony  thing  ye  like." 

"Young  Naemmo?" 

"He's  naething  at  a'." 

1  James  Dundas,  younger  of  Arniston,  was  tried  in  the  year  1711  upon  a 
charge  of  leasing-making,  in  having  presented,  from  the  Duchess  of  Gor- 
don, a  medal  of  the  Pretender,  for  the  purpose,  it  was  said,  of  affronting 
Queen  Anne  (Laing). 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


153 


"Ye're  ill  to  please,  neighbour/'  said  Saddletree.  "Ihae 
run  ower  the  pick  o'  them  for  you,  ye  maun  e'en  choose  for 
yoursell ;  but  bethink  ye  that  in  the  multitude  of  counsellors 
there's  safety.  What  say  ye  to  try  young  Mackenyie?  he  has 
a'  his  uncle's  practiques  at  the  tongue's  end." 

"What,  sir,  wad  ye  speak  to  me,"  exclaimed  the  sturdy 
Presbyterian  in  excessive  wrath,  "  about  a  man  that  has  the 
blood  of  the  saints  at  his  fingers'  ends?  Didna  his  erne  die 
and  gang  to  his  place  wi'  the  name  of  the  Bluidy  Mackenyie? 
and  winna  he  be  kenn'd  by  that  name  sae  lang  as  there's  a 
Scots  tongue  to  speak  the  word?  If  the  life  of  the  dear  bairn 
that's  under  a  suffering  dispensation,  and  Jeanie's,  and  my 
ain,  and  a'  mankind's,  depended  on  my  asking  sic  a  slave  o' 
Satan  to  speak  a  word  for  me  or  them,  they  should  a'  gae 
down  the  water  thegither  for  Davie  Deans!" 

It  was  the  exalted  tone  in  which  he  spoke  this  last  sentence 
that  broke  up  the  conversation  between  Butler  and  Jeanie,  and 
brought  them  both  "  ben  the  house, "  to  use  the  language  of 
the  country.  Here  they  found  the  poor  old  man  half  frantic 
between  grief  and  zealous  ire  against  Saddletree's  proposed 
measures,  his  cheek  inflamed,  his  hand  clenched,  and  his  voice 
raised,  while  the  tear  in  his  eye,  and  the  occasional  quiver  of 
his  accents,  showed  that  his  utmost  efforts  were  inadequate  to 
shaking  off  the  consciousness  of  his  misery.  Butler,  appre- 
hensive of  the  consequences  of  his  agitation  to  an  aged  and 
feeble  frame,  ventured  to  utter  to  him  a  recommendation  to 
patience. 

"I  am  patient,"  returned  the  old  man,  sternly,  "more  pa- 
tient than  any  one  who  is  alive  to  the  woeful  backslidings  of 
a  miserable  time  can  be  patient ;  and  in  so  much,  that  I  need 
neither  sectarians,  nor  sons  nor  grandsons  of  sectarians,  to 
instruct  my  grey  hairs  how  to  bear  my  cross." 

"  But,  sir, "  continued  Butler,  taking  no  offence  at  the  slur 
cast  on  his  grandfather's  faith,  "we  must  use  human  means. 
When  you  call  in  a  physician,  you  would  not,  I  suppose,  ques- 
tion him  on  the  nature  of  his  religious  principles?" 

"  Wad  I  no  ?  "  answered  David.  "  But  I  wad,  though ;  and 
if  he  didna  satisfy  me  that  he  had  a  right  sense  of  the  right- 


i54 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


hand  and  left-hand  defections  of  the  day,  not  a  goutte  of  his 
physic  should  gang  through  my  father's  son." 

It  is  a  dangerous  thing  to  trust  to  an  illustration.  Butler 
had  done  so  and  miscarried ;  but,  like  a  gallant  soldier  when 
his  musket  misses  fire,  he  stood  his  ground  and  charged  with 
the  bayonet.  "  This  is  too  rigid  an  interpretation  of  your 
duty,  sir.  The  sun  shines,  aud  the  rain  descends,  on  the  just 
and  unjust,  and  they  are  placed  together  in  life  in  circum- 
stances which  frequently  render  intercourse  between  them  in- 
dispensable, perhaps  that  the  evil  may  have  an  opportunity  of 
being  converted  by  the  good,  and  perhaps,  also,  that  the  right- 
eous might,  among  other  trials,  be  subjected  to  that  of  occa- 
sional converse  with  the  profane." 

"Ye're  a  silly  callant,  Rueben,"  answered  Deans,  "with 
your  bits  of  argument.  Can  a  man  touch  pitch  and  not  be 
defiled?  Or  what  think  ye  of  the  brave  and  worthy  champions 
of  the  Covenant,  that  wadna  sae  muckle  as  hear  a  minister 
speak,  be  his  gifts  and  graces  as  they  would,  that  hadna  wit- 
nessed against  the  enormities  of  the  day?  Nae  lawyer  shall 
ever  speak  for  me  and  mine  that  hasna  concurred  in  the  testi- 
mony of  the  scattered  yet  lovely  remnant  which  abode  in  the 
clifts  of  the  rocks." 

So  saying,  and  as  if  fatigued  both  with  the  arguments  and 
presence  of  his  guests,  the  old  man  arose,  and  seeming  to  bid 
them  adieu  with  a  motion  of  his  head  and  hand,  went  to  shut 
himself  up  in  his  sleeping-apartment. 

"  It's  thrawing  his  daughter's  life  awa',"  said  Saddletree 
to  Butler,  "  to  hear  him  speak  in  that  daft  gate.  Where  will 
he  ever  get  a  Cameronian  advocate?  Or  wha  ever  heard  of  a 
lawyer's  suffering  either  for  ae  religion  or  another?  The 
lassie's  life  is  clean  flung  awa'." 

During  the  latter  part  of  this  debate,  Dumbiedikes  had  ar- 
rived at  the  door,  dismounted,  hung  the  pony's  bridle  on  the 
usual  hook,  and  sunk  down  on  his  ordinary  settle.  His  eyes, 
with  more  than  their  usual  animation,  followed  first  one 
speaker,  then  another,  till  he  caught  the  melancholy  sense  of 
the  whole  from  Saddletree's  last  words.  He  rose  from  his 
seat,  stumped  slowly  across  the  room,  and,  coming  close  up  to 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


155 


Saddletree's  ear,  said,  in  a  tremulous,  anxious  voice:  "Will — ■ 
will  siller  do  naething  for  them,  Mr.  Saddletree?" 

"Umph!"  said  Saddletree,  looking  grave,  "siller  will  cer- 
tainly do  it  in  the  Parliament  House,  if  ony  thing  can  do  it ; 
but  whare's  the  siller  to  come  frae?  Mr.  Deans,  ye  see,  will 
do  naething;  and  though  Mrs.  Saddletree's  their  far-awa' 
friend  and  right  good  weel-wisher,  and  is  weel  disposed  to 
assist,  yet  she  wadna  like  to  stand  to  be  bound  singuli  in  soli- 
dum  to  such  an  expensive  wark.  An  ilka  friend  wad  bear  a 
share  o'  the  burden,  something  might  be  dune,  ilka  ane  to  be 
liable  for  their  ain  input.  I  wadna  like  to  see  the  case  fa' 
through  without  being  pled ;  it  wadna  be  creditable,  for  a' 
that  daft  Whig  body  says." 

"  I'll — I  will — yes  (assuming  fortitude),  I  will  be  answer- 
able, "  said  Dumbiedikes,  "  for  a  score  of  punds  sterling. "  And 
he  was  silent,  staring  in  astonishment  at  finding  himself  capa- 
ble of  such  unwonted  resolution  and  excessive  generosity. 

"God  Almighty  bless  ye,  Laird!"  said  Jeanie,  in  a  trans- 
port of  gratitude. 

"  Ye  may  ca'  the  twenty  punds  thretty, "  said  Dumbiedikes, 
looking  bashfully  away  from  her,  and  towards  Saddletree. 

"  That  will  do  bravely,"  said  Saddletree,  rubbing  his  hands ; 
"  and  ye  sail  hae  a'  my  skill  and  knowledge  to  gar  the  siller 
gang  far.  I'll  tape  it  out  weel;  I  ken  how  to  gar  the  birkies 
tak  short  fees,  and  be  glad  o'  them  too:  it's  only  garring 
them  trow  ye  hae  twa  or  three  cases  of  importance  coming  on, 
and  they'll  work  cheap  to  get  custom.  Let  me  alane  for 
whilly-whaing  an  advocate.  It's  nae  sin  to  get  as  muckle 
frae  them  for  our  siller  as  we  can;  after  a',  it's  but  the  wind 
o'  their  mouth,  it  costs  them  naething;  whereas,  in  my 
wretched  occupation  of  a  saddler,  horse-milliner,  and  harness- 
maker,  we  are  out  unconscionable  sums  just  for  barkened  hides 
and  leather." 

"Can  I  be  of  no  use?"  said  Butler.  "My  means,  alas!  are 
only  worth  the  black  coat  I  wear;  but  I  am  young,  I  owe 
much  to  the  family.    Can  I  do  nothing?" 

"  Ye  can  help  to  collect  evidence,  sir, "  said  Saddletree ;  "  if 
we  could  but  find  ony  ane  to  say  she  had  gien  the  least  hint 


156 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


o'  her  condition,  she  wad  be  brought  aff  wi'  a  wat  finger.  Mr. 
Crossmyloof  tell'd  me  sae.  "The  crown/  says  he,  'canna  be 
craved  to  prove  a  positive' — was't  a  positive  or  a  negative 
they  couldna  be  ca'd  to  prove?  it  was  the  tane  or  the  tither 
o'  them,  I  am  sure,  and  it  maksna  muckle  matter  whilk. 
6 Wherefore, '  says  he,  'the  libel  maun  be  redargued  by  the 
panel  proving  her  defences.  And  it  canna  be  done  other- 
wise. '  " 

"  But  the  fact,  sir,"  argued  Butler — "  the  fact  that  this  poor 
girl  has  borne  a  child ;  surely  the  crown  lawyers  must  prove 
that?"  said  Butler. 

Saddletree  paused  a  moment,  while  the  visage  of  Dumbie- 
dikes,  which  traversed,  as  if  it  had  been  placed  on  a  pivot, 
from  the  one  spokesman  to  the  other,  assumed  a  more  blythe 
expression. 

"  Ye — ye — ye — es, "  said  Saddletree,  after  some  grave  hesi- 
tation ;  "  unquestionably  that  is  a  thing  to  be  proved,  as  the 
court  will  more  fully  declare  by  an  interlocutor  of  relevancy 
in  common  form;  but  I  fancy  that  job's  done  already,  for  she 
has  confessed  her  guilt." 

"  Confessed  the  murder?"  exclaimed  Jeanie,  with  a  scream 
that  made  them  all  start. 

"  No,  I  didna  say  that, "  replied  Bartoline.  "  But  she  con- 
fessed bearing  the  babe. " 

"And  what  became  of  it,  then?"  said  Jeanie;  "for  not  a 
word  could  I  get  from  her  but  bitter  sighs  and  tears." 

"  She  says  it  was  taken  away  from  her  by  the  woman  in 
whose  house  it  was  born,  and  who  assisted  her  at  the  time." 

"  And  who  was  that  woman?"  said  Butler.  "  Surely  by  her 
means  the  truth  might  be  discovered.  Who  was  she?  I  will 
fly  to  her  directly." 

"I  wish,"  said  Dumbiedikes,  "I  were  as  young  and  as 
supple  as  you,  and  had  the  gift  of  the  gab  as  weel." 

"  Who  is  she?"  again  reiterated  Butler,  impatiently.  "  Who 
could  that  woman  be?" 

"Ay,  wha  kens  that  but  hersell,"  said  Saddletree;  "she 
deponed  further,  and  declined  to  answer  that  interrogatory." 

"Then  to  herself  will  I  instantly  go,"  said  Butler;  "fare- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


157 


well,  Jeanie. "  Then  coming  close  np  to  her :  "  Take  no  rash 
steps  till  you  hear  from  me,  Farewell!"  and  he  immediately 
left  the  cottage. 

"  I  wad  gang  too, "  said  the  landed  proprietor  in  an  anxious, 
jealous,  and  repining  tone,  "  but  my  powny  winna  for  the  life 
o'  me  gang  ony  other  road  than  just  frae  Dumbiedikes  to  this 
house-end,  and  sae  straight  back  again." 

"Ye'll  do  better  for  them,"  said  Saddletree,  as  they  left 
the  house  together,  "  by  sending  me  the  thretty  punds. " 

"Thretty  punds?"  hesitated  Dumbiedikes,  who  was  now 
out  of  the  reach  of  those  eyes  which  had  inflamed  his  gene- 
rosity.    "  I  only  said  twenty  punds." 

"  Ay ;  but, "  said  Saddletree,  "  that  was  under  protestation 
to  add  and  eik;  and  so  ye  craved  leave  to  amend  your  libel, 
and  made  it  thretty. " 

"  Did  I?  I  dinna  mind  that  I  did, "  answered  Dumbiedikes. 
"But  whatever  I  said  I'll  stand  to."  Then  bestriding  his 
steed  with  some  difficulty,  he  added :  "  Dinna  ye  think  poor 
Jeanie' s  een  wi'  the  tears  in  them  glanced  like  lamour  beads, 
Mr.  Saddletree?" 

"I  kenna  muckle  about  women's  e'en,  Laird,"  replied  the 
insensible  Bartoline;  "and  I  care  just  as  little.  I  wuss  I 
were  as  weel  free  o'  their  tongues;  though  few  wives,"  he 
added,  recollecting  the  necessity  of  keeping  up  his  character 
for  domestic  rule,  "  are  under  better  command  than  mine, 
Laird.  I  allow  neither  perduellion  nor  lese-majesty  against 
my  sovereign  authority." 

The  Laird  saw  nothing  so  important  in  this  observation  as 
to  call  for  a  rejoinder,  and  when  they  had  exchanged  a  mute 
salutation,  they  parted  in  peace  upon  their  different  errands. 


158 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER,  XIII. 

I'll  warrant  that  fellow  from  drowning,  were  the  ship  no  stronger 
than  a  nut-shell. 

The  Tempest. 

Butler  felt  neither  fatigue  nor  want  of  refreshment,  al- 
though, from  the  mode  in  which  he  had  spent  the  night,  he 
might  well  have  been  overcome  with  either.  But  in  the  ear- 
nestness with  which  he  hastened  to  the  assistance  of  the  sister 
of  Jeanie  Deans  he  forgot  both. 

In  his  first  progress  he  walked  with  so  rapid  a  pace  as 
almost  approached  to  running,  when  he  was  surprised  to  hear 
behind  him  a  call  upon  his  name,  contending  with  an  asth- 
matic cough,  and  half-drowned  amid  the  resounding  trot  of 
an  Highland  pony.  He  looked  behind,  and  saw  the  Laird  of 
Dumbiedikes  making  after  him  with  what  speed  he  might,  for 
it  happened  fortunately  for  the  Laird's  purpose  of  conversing 
with  Butler,  that  his  own  road  homeward  was  for  about  two 
hundred  yards  the  same  with  that  which  led  by  the  nearest 
way  to  the  city.  Butler  stopped  when  he  heard  himself  thus 
summoned,  internally  wishing  no  good  to  the  panting  eques- 
trian who  thus  retarded  his  journey. 

"Uh!  uh!  uh!"  ejaculated  Dumbiedikes,  as  he  checked  the 
hobbling  pace  of  the  pony  by  our  friend  Butler.  "Uh!  uh! 
it's  a  hard-set  willy ard  beast  this  o'  mine."  He  had  in  fact 
just  overtaken  the  object  of  his  chase  at  the  very  point  beyond 
which  it  would  have  been  absolutely  impossible  for  him  to 
have  continued  the  pursuit,  since  there  Butler's  road  parted 
from  that  leading  to  Dumbiedikes,  and  no  means  of  influence 
or  compulsion  which  the  rider  could  possibly  have  used  towards 
his  Bucephalus  could  have  induced  the  Celtic  obstinacy  of  Rory 
Bean  (such  was  the  pony's  name)  to  have  diverged  a  yard  from 
the  path  that  conducted  him  to  his  own  paddock. 

Even  when  he  had  recovered  from  the  shortness  of  breath 
occasioned  by  a  trot  much  more  rapid  than  Rory  or  he  were 
accustomed  to,  the  high  purpose  of  Dumbiedikes  seemed  to 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


159 


stick  as  it  were  in  his  throat,  and  impede  his  utterance,  so 
that  Butler  stood  for  nearly  three  minutes  ere  he  could  utter 
a  syllable ;  and  when  he  did  find  voice,  it  was  only  to  say, 
after  one  or  two  efforts:  "Uh!  uh!  uhm!  I  say,  Mr. — Mr. 
Butler,  it's  a  braw  day  for  the  har'st." 

"Fine  day,  indeed,"  said  Butler.  "I  wish  you  good 
morning,  sir." 

"  Stay — stay  a  bit, "  rejoined  Dumbiedikes ;  "  that  was  no 
what  I  had  gotten  to  say." 

"  Then,  pray  be  quick  and  let  me  have  your  commands, " 
rejoined  Butler.  "  I  crave  your  pardon,  but  I  am  in  haste,  and 
Tempus  nemini — you  know  the  proverb." 

Dumbiedikes  did  not  know  the  proverb,  nor  did  he  even 
take  the  trouble  to  endeavour  to  look  as  if  he  did,  as  others  in 
his  place  might  have  done.  He  was  concentrating  all  his  in- 
tellects for  one  grand  proposition,  and  could  not  afford  any 
detachment  to  defend  outposts.  "I  say,  Mr.  Butler,"  said 
he,  "ken  ye  if  Mr.  Saddletree's  a  great  lawyer?" 

"I  have  no  person's  word  for  it  but  his  own,"  answered 
Butler,  dryly ;  "  but  undoubtedly  he  best  understands  his  own 
qualities." 

"  TJmph !"  replied  the  taciturn  Dumbiedikes,  in  a  tone  which 
seemed  to  say :  "  Mr.  Butler,  I  take  your  meaning."  "  In  that 
case,"  he  pursued,  "I'll  employ  my  ain  man  o'  business, 
Nichil  Novit — auld  Nichil's  son,  and  amaist  as  gleg  as  his 
father — to  agent  Effie's  plea." 

And  having  thus  displayed  more  sagacity  than  Butler  ex- 
pected from  him,  he  courteously  touched  his  gold-laced  cocked 
hat,  and  by  a  punch  on  the  ribs  conveyed  to  Rory  Bean  it  was 
his  rider's  pleasure  that  he  should  forthwith  proceed  home- 
wards ;  a  hint  which  the  quadruped  obeyed  with  that  degree  of 
alacrity  with  which  men  and  animals  interpret  and  obey  sug- 
gestions that  entirely  correspond  with  their  own  inclinations. 

Butler  resumed  his  pace,  not  without  a  momentary  revival 
of  that  jealousy  which  the  honest  Laird's  attention  to  the 
family  of  Deans  had  at  different  times  excited  in  his  bosom. 
But  he  was  too  generous  long  to  nurse  any  feeling  which  was 
allied  to  selfishness.    "He  is,"  said  Butler  to  himself,  "rich 


160 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


in  what  I  want ;  why  should  I  feel  vexed  that  he  has  the  heart 
to  dedicate  some  of  his  pelf  to  render  them  services  which  I 
can  only  form  the  empty  wish  of  executing?  In  God's  name, 
let  us  each  do  what  we  can.  May  she  be  but  happy !  saved 
from  the  misery  and  disgrace  that  seems  impending!  Let  me 
but  find  the  means  of  preventing  the  fearful  experiment  of  this 
evening,  and  farewell  to  other  thoughts,  though  my  heart- 
strings break  in  parting  with  them!" 

He  redoubled  his  pace,  and  soon  stood  before  the  door  of 
the  tolbooth,  or  rather  before  the  entrance  where  the  door  had 
formerly  been  placed.  His  interview  with  the  mysterious 
stranger,  the  message  to  Jeanie,  his  agitating  conversation 
with  her  on  the  subject  of  breaking  off  their  mutual  engage- 
ments, and  the  interesting  scene  with  old  Deans,  had  so  en- 
tirely occupied  his  mind  as  to  drown  even  recollection  of  the 
tragical  event  which  he  had  witnessed  the  preceding  evening. 
His  attention  was  not  recalled  to  it  by  the  groups  who  stood 
scattered  on  the  street  in  conversation,  which  they  hushed 
when  strangers  approached,  or  by  the  bustling  search  of  the 
agents  of  the  city  police,  supported  by  small  parties  of  the 
military,  or  by  the  appearance  of  the  guard-house,  before 
which  were  treble  sentinels,  or,  finally,  by  the  subdued  and 
intimidated  looks  of  the  lower  orders  of  society,  who,  con- 
scious that  they  were  liable  to  suspicion,  if  they  were  not 
guilty,  of  accession  to  a  riot  likely  to  be  strictly  inquired  into, 
glided  about  with  an  humble  and  dismayed  aspect,  like  men 
whose  spirits  being  exhausted  in  the  revel  and  the  dangers  of 
a  desperate  debauch  overnight,  are  nerve-shaken,  timorous, 
and  unenterprising  on  the  succeeding  day. 

None  of  these  symptoms  of  alarm  and  trepidation  struck 
Butler,  whose  mind  was  occupied  with  a  different,  and  to  him 
still  more  interesting,  subject,  until  he  stood  before  the  en- 
trance to  the  prison,  and  saw  it  defended  by  a  double  file  of 
grenadiers,  instead  of  bolts  and  bars.  Their  "  Stand,  stand!" 
the  blackened  appearance  of  the  doorless  gateway,  and  the 
winding  staircase  and  apartments  of  the  tolbooth,  now  open 
to  the  public  eye,  recalled  the  whole  proceedings  of  the  event- 
ful night.    Upon  his  requesting  to  speak  with  Effie  Deans, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


161 


the  same  tall,  thin,  silver-haired  turnkey  whom  he  had  seen 
on  the  preceding  evening  made  his  appearance. 

"I  think,"  he  replied  to  Butler's  request  of  admission,  with 
true  Scottish  indirectness,  "  ye  will  be  the  same  lad  that  was 
for  in  to  see  her  yestreen?" 

Butler  admitted  he  was  the  same  person. 

"And  I  am  thinking,"  pursued  the  turnkey,  "that  ye 
speered  at  me  when  we  locked  up,  and  if  we  locked  up  earlier 
on  account  of  Porteous?" 

"Very  likely  I  might  make  some  such  observation,"  said 
Butler;  "but  the  question  now  is,  can  I  see  Erne  Deans?" 

"  I  dinna  ken ;  gang  in  bye,  and  up  the  turnpike  stair,  and 
turn  till  the  ward  on  the  left  hand. " 

.  The  old  man  followed  close  behind  him,  with  his  keys  in 
his  hand,  not  forgetting  even  that  huge  one  which  had  once 
opened  and  shut  the  outward  gate  of  his  dominions,  though  at 
present  it  was  but  an  idle  and  useless  burden.  No  sooner  had 
Butler  entered  the  room  to  which  he  was  directed,  than  the 
experienced  hand  of  the  warder  selected  the  proper  key,  and 
locked  it  on  the  outside.  At  first  Butler  conceived  this  ma- 
noeuvre was  only  an  effect  of  the  man's  habitual  and  official  cau- 
tion and  jealousy.  But  when  he  heard  the  hoarse  command, 
"  Turn  out  the  guard!"  and  immediately  afterwards  heard  the 
clash  of  a  sentinel's  arms,  as  he  was  posted  at  the  door  of  his 
apartment,  he  again  called  out  to  the  turnkey:  "My  good 
friend,  I  have  business  of  some  consequence  with  Effie  Deans, 
and  I  beg  to  see  her  as  soon  as  possible."  No  answer  was  re- 
turned. "  If  it  be  against  your  rules  to  admit  me, "  repeated 
Butler,  in  a  still  louder  tone,  "  to  see  the  prisoner,  I  beg  you 
will  tell  me  so,  and  let  me  go  about  my  business.  Fugit 
irrevocabile  tempus  /  "  muttered  he  to  himself. 

"If  ye  had  business  to  do,  ye  suld  hae  dune  it  before  ye 
cam  here,"  replied  the  man  of  keys  from  the  outside;  "ye'U 
find  it's  easier  wunnin  in  than  wunnin  out  here.  There's 
sma'  likelihood  o'  another  Porteous  Mob  coming  to  rabble  us 
again :  the  law  will  haud  her  ain  now,  neighbour,  and  that  ye'll 
find  to  your  cost. " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?"  retorted  Butler.  "  You 
11 


162 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


must  mistake  me  for  some  other  person.  My  name  is  Reuben 
Butler,  preacher  of  the  Gospel." 

"  I  ken  that  weel  eneugh,"  said  the  turnkey. 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  know  me,  I  have  a  right  to  know  from 
you  in  return,  what  warrant  you  have  for  detaining  me ;  that, 
I  know,  is  the  right  of  every  British  subject." 

"  Warrant!"  said  the  jailor.  "  The  warrant's  awa  to  Liber- 
ton  wi?  twa  sheriff  officers  seeking  ye.  If  ye  had  staid  at 
hame,  as  honest  men  should  do,  ye  wad  hae  seen  the  warrant ; 
but  if  ye  come  to  be  incarcerated  of  your  ain  accord,  wha  can 
help  it,  my  jo?" 

"  So  I  cannot  see  Effie  Deans,  then,"  said  Butler;  "  and  you 
are  determined  not  to  let  me  out?" 

"Troth  will  I  no,  neighbour,"  answered  the  old  man,  dog- 
gedly; "  as  for  Effie  Deans,  ye'll  hae  eneugh  ado  to  mind  your 
ain  business,  and  let  her  mind  hers ;  and  for  letting  you  out, 
that  maun  be  as  the  magistrate  will  determine.  And  fare  ye 
weel  for  a  bit,  for  I  maun  see  Deacon  Sawyers  put  on  ane  or 
twa  o?  the  doors  that  your  quiet  folk  broke  down  yesternight, 
Mr.  Butler." 

There  was  something  in  this  exquisitely  provoking,  but 
there  was  also  something  darkly  alarming.  To  be  impris- 
oned, even  on  a  false  accusation,  has  something  in  it  dis- 
agreeable and  menacing  even  to  men  of  more  constitutional 
courage  than  Butler  had  to  boast ;  for  although  he  had  much 
of  that  resolution  which  arises  from  a  sense  of  duty  and  an 
honourable  desire  to  discharge  it,  yet,  as  his  imagination  was 
lively  and  his  frame  of  body  delicate,  he  was  far  from  pos- 
sessing that  cool  insensibility  to  danger  which  is  the  happy 
portion  of  men  of  stronger  health,  more  firm  nerves,  and  less 
acute  sensibility.  An  indistinct  idea  of  peril,  which  he  could 
neither  understand  nor  ward  off,  seemed  to  float  before  his 
eyes.  He  tried  to  think  over  the  events  of  the  preceding 
night,  in  hopes  of  discovering  some  means  of  explaining  or 
vindicating  his  conduct  for  appearing  among  the  mob,  since 
it  immediately  occurred  to  him  that  his  detention  must  be 
founded  on  that  circumstance.  And  it  was  with  anxiety  that 
he  found  he  could  not  recollect  to  have  been  under  the  obser- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


163 


vation  of  any  disinterested  witness  in  the  attempts  that  he 
made  from  time  to  time  to  expostulate  with  the  rioters,  and 
to  prevail  on  them  to  release  him.  The  distress  of  Deans's 
family,  the  dangerous  rendezvous  which  Jeanie  had  formed, 
and  which  he  could  not  now  hope  to  interrupt,  had  also  their 
share  in  his  unpleasant  reflections.  Yet  impatient  as  he  was 
to  receive  an  eclaircissement  upon  the  cause  of  his  confinement, 
and  if  possible  to  obtain  his  liberty,  he  was  affected  with  a 
trepidation  which  seemed  no  good  omen,  when,  after  remain- 
ing an  hour  in  this  solitary  apartment,  he  received  a  summons 
to  attend  the  sitting  magistrate.  He  was  conducted  from 
prison  strongly  guarded  by  a  party  of  soldiers,  with  a  parade 
of  precaution  that,  however  ill-timed  and  unnecessary,  is  gen- 
erally displayed  after  an  event,  which  such  precaution,  if  used 
in  time,  might  have  prevented. 

He  was  introduced  into  the  Council  Chamber,  as  the  place 
is  called  where  the  magistrates  hold  their  sittings,  and  which 
was  then  at  a  little  distance  from  the  prison.  One  or  two 
of  the  senators  of  the  city  were  present,  and  seemed  about  to 
engage  in  the  examination  of  an  individual  who  was  brought 
forward  to  the  foot  of  the  long  green-covered  table  round 
which  the  council  usually  assembled. 

"Is  that  the  preacher?"  said  one  of  the  magistrates,  as  the 
city  officer  in  attendance  introduced  Butler.  The  man  an- 
swered in  the  affirmative.  "  Let  him  sit  down  there  for  an 
instant;  we  will  finish  this  man's  business  very  briefly. " 

"  Shall  we  remove  Mr.  Butler?"  queried  the  assistant. 

"It  is  not  necessary.    Let  him  remain  where  he  is." 

Butler  accordingly  sate  down  on  a  bench  at  the  bottom  of 
the  apartment,  attended  by  one  of  his  keepers. 

It  was  a  large  room,  partially  and  imperfectly  lighted;  but 
by  chance,  or  the  skill  of  the  architect,  who  might  happen  to 
remember  the  advantage  which  might  occasionally  be  derived 
from  such  an  arrangement,  one  window  was  so  placed  as  to 
throw  a  strong  light  at  the  foot  of  the  table  at  which  prison- 
ers were  usually  posted  for  examination,  while  the  upper  end, 
where  the  examinants  sate,  was  thrown  into  shadow.  Butler's 
eyes  were  instantly  fixed  on  the  person  whose  examination  was 


164 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


at  present  proceeding,  in  the  idea  that  he  might  recognise  some 
one  of  the  conspirators  of  the  former  night.  But  though  the 
features  of  this  man  were  sufficiently  marked  and  striking,  he 
could  not  recollect  that  he  had  ever  seen  them  before. 

The  complexion  of  this  person  was  dark,  and  his  age  some- 
what advanced.  He  wore  his  own  hair,  combed  smooth  down, 
and  cut  very  short.  It  was  jet  black,  slightly  curled  by  na- 
ture, and  already  mottled  with  grey.  The  man's  face  ex- 
pressed rather  knavery  than  vice,  and  a  disposition  to  sharp- 
ness, cunning,  and  roguery,  more  than  the  traces  of  stormy 
and  indulged  passions.  His  sharp,  quick  black  eyes,  acute 
features,  ready  sardonic  smile,  promptitude,  and  effrontery, 
gave  him  altogether  what  is  called  among  the  vulgar  a  knowing 
look,  which  generally  implies  a  tendancy  to  knavery.  At  a 
fair  or  market,  you  could  not  for  a  moment  have  doubted  that 
he  was  a  horse- jockey,  intimate  with  all  the  tricks  of  his 
trade ;  yet  had  you  met  him  on  a  moor,  you  would  not  have  ap- 
prehended any  violence  from  him.  His  dress  was  also  that  of 
a  horse-dealer — a  close-buttoned  jockey-coat,  or  wrap-rascal, 
as  it  was  then  termed,  with  huge  metal  buttons,  coarse  blue 
upper  stockings,  called  boot-hose,  because  supplying  the  place 
of  boots,  and  a  slouched  hat.  He  only  wanted  a  loaded  whip 
under  his  arm  and  a  spur  upon  one  heel  to  complete  the  dress 
of  the  character  he  seemed  to  represent. 

"  Your  name  is  James  Batcliffe?"  said  the  magistrate. 

"Ay,  always  wi?  your  honour's  leave." 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  could  find  me  another  name  if  I  did  not 
like  that  one?" 

"  Twenty  to  pick  and  choose  upon,  always  with  your  hon- 
our's leave,"  resumed  the  respondent. 

"  But  James  Ratcliffe  is  your  present  name?  What  is  your 
trade?" 

"  I  canna  just  say,  distinctly,  that  I  have  what  ye  wad  ca? 
preceesely  a  trade. " 

"  But, "  repeated  the  magistrate,  "  what  are  your  means  of 
living — your  occupation?" 

"  Hout  tout,  your  honour,  wi?  your  leave,  kens  that  as  weel 
as  I  do, "  replied  the  examined. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


165 


"No  matter,  I  want  to  hear  you  describe  it,"  said  the 
examinarit. 

"Me  describe?  and  to  your  honour?  Far  be  it  from  Jem- 
mie  Eatcliffe,"  responded  the  prisoner. 

"Come,  sir,  no  trifling;  I  insist  on  an  answer." 

"  Well,  sir, "  replied  the  declarant,  "  I  maun  make  a  clean 
breast,  for  ye  see,  wi'  your  leave,  I  am  looking  for  favour. 
Describe  my  occupation,  quo'  ye?  Troth  it  will  be  ill  to  do 
that,  in  a  feasible  way,  in  a  place  like  this;  but  what  is't 
again  that  the  aught  command  says?" 

"Thou  shalt  not  steal,"  answered  the  magistrate. 

"Are  you  sure  o'  that?"  replied  the  accused.  "Troth, 
then,  my  occupation  and  that  command  are  sair  at  odds,  for  I 
read  it,  thou  shalt  steal ;  and  that  makes  an  unco  difference, 
though  there's  but  a  wee  bit  word  left  out." 

"  To  cut  the  matter  short,  Eatcliffe,  you  have  been  a  most 
notorious  thief,"  said  the  examinant. 

"I  believe  Highlands  and  Lowlands  ken  that,  sir,  forbye 
England  and  Holland,"  replied  Eatcliffe,  with  the  greatest 
composure  and  effrontery. 

"And  what  d'ye  think  the  end  of  your  calling  will  be?" 
said  the  magistrate. 

"I  could  have  gien  a  braw  guess  yesterday;  but  I  dinna 
ken  sae  weel  the  day,"  answered  the  prisoner. 

"  And  what  would  you  have  said  would  have  been  your  end, 
had  you  been  asked  the  question  yesterday?" 

"Just  the  gallows,"  replied  Eatcliffe,  with  the  same  com- 
posure. 

"  You  are  a  daring  rascal,  sir, "  said  the  magistrate ;  "  and 
how  dare  you  hope  times  are  mended  with  you  to-day?" 

"Dear,  your  honour,"  answered  Eatcliffe,  "there's  muckle 
difference  between  lying  in  prison  under  sentence  of  death  and 
staying  there  of  ane's  ain  proper  accord,  when  it  would  hae 
cost  a  man  naething  to  get  up  and  rin  awa'.  What  was  to 
hinder  me  from  stepping  out  quietly,  when  the  rabble  walked 
awa'  wi'  Jock  Porteous  yestreen?  And  does  your  honour 
really  think  I  staid  on  purpose  to  be  hanged?" 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  may  have  proposed  to  yourself ; 


166 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


but  I  know,"  said  the  magistrate,  "what  the  law  proposes  for 
you,  and  that  is  to  hang  you  next  Wednesday  eight  days." 

"Na,  na,  your  honour,"  said  Eatcliffe,  firmly;  "craving 
your  honour's  pardon,  I'll  ne'er  believe  that  till  I  see  it.  I 
have  kenn'd  the  law  this  mony  a  year,  and  mony  a  thrawart 
job  I  hae  had  wi'  her  first  and  last;  but  the  auld  jaud  is 
no  sae  ill  as  that  comes  to ;  I  aye  f and  her  bark  waur  than 
her  bite." 

"  And  if  you  do  not  expect  the  gallows,  to  which  you  are 
condemned — for  the  fourth  time  to  my  knowledge — may  I  beg 
the  favour  to  know, "  said  the  magistrate,  "  what  it  is  that  you 
do  expect,  in  consideration  of  your  not  having  taken  your  flight 
with  the  rest  of  the  jail-birds,  which  I  will  admit  was  a  line 
of  conduct  little  to  have  been  expected?" 

"  I  would  never  have  thought  for  a  moment  of  staying  in 
that  auld  gousty  toom  house,"  answered  Eatcliffe,  "but  that 
use  and  wont  had  just  gien  me  a  fancy  to  the  place,  and  I'm 
just  expecting  a  bit  post  in't." 

"A  post!"  exclaimed  the  magistrate;  " a  whipping-post,  I 
suppose,  you  mean?" 

"  Na,  na,  sir,  I  had  nae  thoughts  o'  a  whuppin-post.  After 
having  been  four  times  doomed  to  hang  by  the  neck  till  I  was 
dead,  I  think  I  am  far  beyond  being  whuppit. " 

"Then,  in  Heaven's  name,  what  did  you  expect?" 

"Just  the  post  of  under-turnkey,  for  I  understand  there's 
a  vacancy, "  said  the  prisoner.  "  I  wadna  think  of  asking  the 
lockman's  1  place  ower  his  head;  it  wadna  suit  me  sae  weel  as 
ither  folk,  for  I  never  could  put  a  beast  out  o'  the  way,  much 
less  deal  wi'  a  man." 

"That's  something  in  your  favour,"  said  the  magistrate, 
making  exactly  the  inference  to  which  Eatcliffe  was  desirous 
to  lead  him,  though  he  mantled  his  art  with  an  affectation  of 
oddity.  "  But,"  continued  the  magistrate,  "  how  do  you  think 
you  can  be  trusted  with  a  charge  in  the  prison,  when  y^u  have 
broken  at  your  own  hand  half  the  jails  in  Scotland?" 

"  Wi'  your  honour's  leave,"  said  Eatcliffe,  "if  I  kenn'd  sae 
weel  how  to  wun  out  mysell,  it's  like  I  wad  be  a'  the  better 

1  See  Note  18. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


167 


a  hand  to  keep  other  folk  in.  I  think  they  wad  ken  their 
business  weel  that  held  me  in  when  I  wanted  to  be  out,  or 
wan  out  when  I  wanted  to  haud  them  in. " 

The  remark  seemed  to  strike  the  magistrate,  but  he  made 
no  farther  immediate  observation,  only  desired  Eat  cliff  e  to  be 
removecT. 

When  this  daring  and  yet  sly  freebooter  was  out  of  hear- 
ing, the  magistrate  asked  the  city-clerk,  "  what  he  thought  of 
the  fellow's  assurance?" 

"It's  no  for  me  to  say,  sir,"  replied  the  clerk;  "but  if 
James  Ratcliffe  be  inclined  to  turn  to  good,  there  is  not  a  man 
e'er  came  within  the  ports  of  the  burgh  could  be  of  sae  muckle 
use  to  the  Good  Town  in  the  thief  and  lock-up  line  of  busi- 
ness.   I'll  speak  to  Mr.  Sharpitlaw  about  him." 

Upon  Ratcliffe's  retreat,  Butler  was  placed  at  the  table  for 
examination.  The  magistrate  conducted  his  inquiry  civilly, 
but  yet  in  a  manner  which  gave  him  to  understand  that  he 
laboured  under  strong  suspicion.  With  a  frankness  which  at 
once  became  his  calling  and  character,  Butler  avowed  his  in- 
voluntary presence  at  the  murder  of  Porteous,  and,  at  the  re- 
quest of  the  magistrate,  entered  into  a  minute  detail  of  the 
circumstances  which  attended  that  unhappy  affair.  All  the 
particulars,  such  as  we  have  narrated,  were  taken  minutely 
down  by  the  clerk  from  Butler's  dictation. 

When  the  narrative  was  concluded,  the  cross-examination 
commenced,  which  it  is  a  painful  task  even  for  the  most  can- 
did witness  to  undergo,  since  a  story,  especially  if  connected 
with  agitating  and  alarming  incidents,  can  scarce  be  so  clearly 
and  distinctly  told,  but  that  some  ambiguity  and  doubt  may 
be  thrown  upon  it  by  a  string  of  successive  and  minute  inter- 
rogatories. 

The  magistrate  commenced  by  observing,  that  Butler  had 
said  his  object  was  to  return  to  the  village  of  Liberton,  but 
that  he  was  interrupted  by  the  mob  at  the  West  Port.  "  Is 
the  West  Port  your  usual  way  of  leaving  town  when  you  go 
to  Liberton?"  said  the  magistrate,  with  a  sneer. 

"  No,  certainly, "  answered  Butler,  with  the  haste  of  a  man 
anxious  to  vindicate  the  accuracy  of  his  evidence;  "but  I 


168 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


chanced  to  be  nearer  that  port  than  any  other,  and  the  hour 
of  shutting  the  gates  was  on  the  point  of  striking." 

"That  was  unlucky,"  said  the  magistrate,  dryly.  "Pray, 
being,  as  you  say,  under  coercion  and  fear  of  the  lawless  mul- 
titude, and  compelled  to  accompany  them  through  scenes  disa- 
greeable to  all  men  of  humanity,  and  more  especially  irrec- 
oncilable to  the  profession  of  a  minister,  did  you  not  attempt 
to  struggle,  resist,  or  escape  from  their  violence?" 

Butler  replied,  "that  their  numbers  prevented  him  from 
attempting  resistance,  and  their  vigilance  from  effecting  his 
escape." 

"  That  was  unlucky,"  again  repeated  the  magistrate,  in  the 
same  dry  inacquiescent  tone  of  voice  and  manner.  He  pro- 
ceeded with  decency  and  politeness,  but  with  a  stiffness  which 
argued  his  continued  suspicion,  to  ask  many  questions  con- 
cerning the  behaviour  of  the  mob,  the  manners  and  dress  of 
the  ringleaders ;  and  when  he  conceived  that  the  caution  of 
Butler,  if  he  was  deceiving  him,  must  be  lulled  asleep,  the 
magistrate  suddenly  and  artfully  returned  to  former  parts  of 
his  declaration,  and  required  a  new  recapitulation  of  the  cir- 
cumstances, to  the  minutest  and  most  trivial  point,  which  at- 
tended each  part  of  the  melancholy  scene.  No  confusion  or 
contradiction,  however,  occurred,  that  could  countenance  the 
suspicion  ivhich  he  seemed  to  have  adopted  against  Butler. 
At  length  the  train  of  his  interrogatories  reached  Madge  Wild- 
fire, at  whose  name  the  magistrate  and  town-clerk  exchanged 
significant  glances.  If  the  fate  of  the  Good  Town  had  de- 
pended on  her  careful  magistrate's  knowing  the  features  and 
dress  of  this  personage,  his  inquiries  could  not  have  been  more 
particular.  But  Butler  could  say  almost  nothing  of  this  per- 
son's features,  which  were  disguised  apparently  with  red  paint 
and  soot,  like  an  Indian  going  to  battle,  besides  the  projecting 
shade  of  a  curch  or  coif,  which  muffled  the  hair  of  the  sup- 
posed female.  He  declared  that  he  thought  he  could  not 
know  this  Madge  Wildfire,  if  placed  before  him  in  a  different 
dress,  but  that  he  believed  he  might  recognise  her  voice. 

The  magistrate  requested  him  again  to  state  by  what  gate 
he  left  the  city. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


169 


"  By  the  Cowgate  Port, "  replied  Butler. 

"  Was  that  the  nearest  road  to  Liberton?" 

"  No, "  answered  Butler,  with  embarrassment ;  "  but  it  was 
the  nearest  way  to  extricate  myself  from  the  mob." 

The  clerk  and  magistrate  again  exchanged  glances. 

"  Is  the  Cowgate  Port  a  nearer  way  to  Liberton  from  the 
Grassmarket  than  Bristo  Port?" 

"No,"  replied  Butler;  "  but  I  had  to  visit  a  friend." 

"  Indeed?"  said  the  interrogator.  "  You  were  in  a  hurry  to 
tell  the  sight  you  had  witnessed,  I  suppose?" 

"  Indeed  I  was  not, "  replied  Butler ;  "  nor  did  I  speak  on 
the  subject  the  whole  time  I  was  at  St.  Leonard's  Crags." 

"Which  road  did  you  take  to  St.  Leonard's  Crags?" 

"By  the  foot  of  Salisbury  Crags,"  was  the  reply. 

"Indeed?  you  seem  partial  to  circuitous  routes,"  again  said 
the  magistrate.    "  Whom  did  you  see  after  you  left  the  city  ?" 

One  by  one  he  obtained  a  description  of  every  one  of  the 
groups  who  had  passed  Butler,  as  already  noticed,  their  num- 
ber, demeanour,  and  appearance,  and  at  length  came  to  the 
circumstance  of  the  mysterious  stranger  in  the  King's  Park. 
On  this  subject  Butler  would  fain  have  remained  silent.  But 
the  magistrate  had  no  sooner  got  a  slight  hint  concerning  the 
incident,  than  he  seemed  bent  to  possess  himself  of  the  most 
minute  particulars. 

"Look  ye,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  he,  "you  are  a  young  man, 
and  bear  an  excellent  character ;  so  much  I  will  myself  testify 
in  your  favour.  But  we  are  aware  there  has  been,  at  times, 
a  sort  of  bastard  and  fiery  zeal  in  some  of  your  order,  and 
those  men  irreproachable  in  other  points,  which  has  led  them 
into  doing  and  countenancing  great  irregularities,  by  which 
the  peace  of  the  country  is  liable  to  be  shaken.  I  will  deal 
plainly  with  you.  I  am  not  at  all  satisfied  with  this  story 
of  your  setting  out  again  and  again  to  seek  your  dwelling  by 
two  several  roads,  which  were  both  circuitous.  And,  to  be 
frank,  no  one  whom  we  have  examined  on  this  unhappy  affair 
could  trace  in  your  appearance  anything  like  your  acting  under 
compulsion.  Moreover,  the  waiters  at  the  Cowgate  Port  ob- 
served something  like  the  trepidation  of  guilt  in  your  conduct, 


170 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  declare  that  you  were  the  first  to  command  them  to  open 
the  gate,  in  a  tone  of  authority,  as  if  still  presiding  over  the 
guards  and  outposts  of  the  rabble  who  had  besieged  them  the 
whole  night." 

"God  forgive  them!"  said  Butler.  "I  only  asked  free  pas- 
sage for  myself ;  they  must  have  much  misunderstood,  if  they 
did  not  wilfully  misrepresent,  me." 

"Well,  Mr.  Butler,"  resumed  the  magistrate,  "I  am  in- 
clined to  judge  the  best  and  hope  the  best,  as  I  am  sure  I 
wish  the  best;  but  you  must  be  frank  with  me,  if  you  wish 
to  secure  my  good  opinion,  and  lessen  the  risk  of  inconveni- 
ence to  yourself.  You  have  allowed  you  saw  another  individ- 
ual in  your  passage  through  the  King's  Park  to  St.  Leonard's 
Crags;  I  must  know  every  word  which  passed  betwixt  you." 

Thus  closely  pressed,  Butler,  who  had  no  reason  for  con- 
cealing what  passed  at  that  meeting,  unless  because  Jeanie 
Deans  was  concerned  in  it,  thought  it  best  to  tell  the  whole 
truth  from  beginning  to  end. 

"  Do  you  suppose, "  said  the  magistrate,  pausing,  "  that  the 
young  woman  will  accept  an  invitation  so  mysterious?" 

"  I  fear  she  will, "  replied  Butler. 

"Why  do  you  use  the  word  'fear'  it?"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  Because  I  am  apprehensive  for  her  safety,  in  meeting,  at 
such  a  time  and  place,  one  who  had  something  of  the  manner 
of  a  desperado,  and  whose  message  was  of  a  character  so  in- 
explicable." 

"  Her  safety  shall  be  cared  for, "  said  the  magistrate.  "  Mr. 
Butler,  I  am  concerned  I  cannot  immediately  discharge  you 
from  confinement,  but  I  hope  you  will  not  be  long  detained. 
Remove  Mr.  Butler,  and  let  him  be  provided  with  decent 
accommodation  in  all  respects." 

He  was  conducted  back  to  the  prison  accordingly ;  but,  in 
the  food  offered  to  him,  as  well  as  in  the  apartment  in  which 
he  was  lodged,  the  recommendation  of  the  magistrate  was 
strictly  attended  to. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


171 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Dark  and  eerie  was  the  night, 

And  lonely  was  the  way, 
As  Janet,  wi'  her  green  mantell, 

To  Miles'  Cross  she  did  gae. 

Old1  Ballad. 

Leaving  Butler  to  all  the  uncomfortable  thoughts  attached 
to  his  new  situation,  among  which  the  most  predominant  was 
his  feeling  that  he  was,  by  his  confinement,  deprived  of  all 
possibility  of  assisting  the  family  of  St.  Leonard's  in  their 
greatest  need,  we  return  to  Jeanie  Deans,  who  had  seen  him 
depart,  without  an  opportunity  of  further  explanation,  in  all 
that  agony  of  mind  with  which  the  female  heart  bids  adieu 
to  the  complicated  sensations  so  well  described  by  Cole- 
ridge : 

Hopes,  and  fears  that  kindle  hope, 

An  undistinguishable  throng ; 
And  gentle  wishes  long  subdued — 

Subdued  and  cherish'd  long. 

It  is  not  the  firmest  heart  (and  Jeanie,  under  her  russet 
rokelay,  had  one  that  would  not  have  disgraced  Cato's  daugh- 
ter) that  can  most  easily  bid  adieu  to  these  soft  and  mingled 
emotions.  She  wept  for  a  few  minutes  bitterly,  and  without 
attempting  to  refrain  from  this  indulgence  of  passion.  But  a 
moment's  recollection  induced  her  to  check  herself  for  a  grief 
selfish  and  proper  to  her  own  affections,  while  her  father  and 
sister  were  plunged  into  such  deep  and  irretrievable  affliction. 
She  drew  from  her  pocket  the  letter  which  had  been  that 
morning  flung  into  her  apartment  through  an  open  window, 
and  the  contents  of  which  were  as  singular  as  the  expression 
was  violent  and  energetic.  "If  she  would  save  a  human 
being  from  the  most  damning  guilt,  and  all  its  desperate  con- 
sequences; if  she  desired  the  life  arid  honour  of  her  sister  to 
be  saved  from  the  bloody  fangs  of  an  unjust  law;  if  she  de- 
sired not  to  forfeit  peace  of  mind  here,  and  happiness  here- 
after, "  such  was  the  frantic  style  of  the  conjuration,  "  she  was 


172 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


entreated  to  give  a  sure,  secret,  and  solitary  meeting  to  the 
writer.  She  alone  could  rescue  him, "  so  ran  the  letter,  "  and 
he  only  could  rescue  her."  He  was  in  such  circumstances, 
the  billet  farther  informed  her,  that  an  attempt  to  bring  any 
witness  of  their  conference,  or  even  to  mention  to  her  father, 
or  any  other  person  whatsoever,  the  letter  which  requested  it, 
would  inevitably  prevent  its  taking  place,  and  ensure  the  de- 
struction of  her  sister.  The  letter  concluded  with  incoherent 
but  violent  protestations  that  in  obeying  this  summons  she 
had  nothing  to  fear  personally. 

The  message  delivered  to  her  by  Butler  from  the  stranger 
in  the  Park  tallied  exactly  with  the  contents  of  the  letter,  but 
assigned  a  later  hour  and  a  different  place  of  meeting.  Ap- 
parently the  writer  of  the  letter  had  been  compelled  to  let 
Butler  so  far  into  his  confidence,  for  the  sake  of  announcing 
this  change  to  Jeanie.  She  was  more  than  once  on  the  point 
of  producing  the  billet,  in  vindication  of  herself  from  her 
lover's  half-hinted  suspicions.  But  there  is  something  in 
stooping  to  justification  which  the  pride  of  innocence  does  not 
at  all  times  willingly  submit  to ;  besides  that  the  threats  con- 
tained in  the  letter,  in  case  of  her  betraying  the  secret,  hung 
heavy  on  her  heart.  It  is  probable,  however,  that,  had  they 
remained  longer  together,  she  might  have  taken  the  resolution 
to  submit  the  whole  matter  to  Butler,  and  be  guided  by  him 
as  to  the  line  of  conduct  which  she  should  adopt.  And  when, 
by  the  sudden  interruption  of  their  conference,  she  lost  the 
opportunity  of  doing  so,  she  felt  as  if  she  had  been  unjust  to 
a  friend  whose  advice  might  have  been  highly  useful,  and 
whose  attachment  deserved  her  full  and  unreserved  confidence. 

To  have  recourse  to  her  father  upon  this  occasion,  she  con- 
sidered as  highly  imprudent.  There  was  no  possibility  of 
conjecturing  in  what  light  the  matter  might  strike  old  David, 
whose  manner  of  acting  and  thinking  in  extraordinary  circum- 
stances depended  upon  feelings  and  principles  peculiar  to  him- 
self, the  operation  of  which  could  not  be  calculated  upon  even 
by  those  best  acquainted  with  him.  To  have  requested  some 
female  friend  to  have  accompanied  her  to  the  place  of  rendez- 
vous would  perhaps  have  been  the  most  eligible  expedient; 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


173 


but  the  threats  of  the  writer,  that  betraying  his  secret  would 
prevent  their  meeting,  on  which  her  sister's  safety  was  said  to 
depend,  from  taking  place  at  all,  would  have  deterred  her  from 
making  such  a  confidence,  even  had  she  known  a  person  in 
whom  she  thought  it  could  with  safety  have  been  reposed. 
But  she  knew  none  such.  Their  acquaintance  with  the  cot- 
tagers in  the  vicinity  had  been  very  slight  and  limited  to 
trifling  acts  of  good  neighbourhood.  Jeanie  knew  little  of 
them,  and  what  she  knew  did  not  greatly  incline  her  to  trust 
any  of  them.  They  were  of  the  order  of  loquacious  good- 
humoured  gossips  usually  found  in  their  situation  of  life ;  and 
their  conversation  had  at  all  times  few  charms  for  a  young 
woman  to  whom  nature  and  the  circumstance  of  a  solitary  life 
had  given  a  depth  of  thought  and  force  of  character  superior 
to  the  frivolous  part  of  her  sex  whether  in  high  or  low  degree. 

Left  alone  and  separated  from  all  earthly  counsel,  she  had 
recourse  to  a  Friend  and  Adviser  whose  ear  is  open  to  the  cry 
of  the  poorest  and  most  afflicted  of  His  people.  She  knelt 
and  prayed  with  fervent  sincerity  that  God  would  please  to 
direct  her  what  course  to  follow  in  her  arduous  and  distress- 
ing situation.  It  was  the  belief  of  the  time  and  sect  to  which 
she  belonged  that  special  answers  to  prayer,  differing  little 
in  their  character  from  divine  inspiration,  were,  as  they  ex- 
pressed it,  "  borne  in  upon  their  minds"  in  answer  to  their 
earnest  petitions  in  a  crisis  of  difficulty.  Without  entering 
into  an  abstruse  point  of  divinity,  one  thing  is  plain ;  namely, 
that  the  person  who  lays  open  his  doubts  and  distresses  in 
prayer,  with  feeling  and  sincerity,  must  necessarily,  in  the 
act  of  doing  so,  purify  his  mind  from  the  dross  of  worldly 
passions  and  interests,  and  bring  it  into  that  state  when  the 
resolutions  adopted  are  likely  to  be  selected  rather  from  a 
sense  of  duty  than  from  any  inferior  motive.  Jeanie  arose 
from  her  devotions  with  her  heart  fortified  to  endure  affliction 
and  encouraged  to  face  difficulties. 

"I  will  meet  this  unhappy  man,"  she  said  to  herelf — ."un- 
happy he  must  be,  since  I  doubt  he  has  been  the  cause  of 
poor  Effie's  misfortune;  but  I  will  meet  him,  be  it  for  good 
or  ill.    My  mind  shall  never  cast  up  to  me  that,  for  fear  of 


174 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


what  might  be  said  or  done  to  myself,  I  left  that  undone  that 
might  even  yet  be  the  rescue  of  her." 

With  a  mind  greatly  composed  since  the  adoption  of  this 
resolution,  she  went  to  attend  her  father.  The  old  man,  firm 
in  the  principles  of  his  youth,  did  not,  in  outward  appearance 
at  least,  permit  a  thought  of  his  family  distress  to  interfere 
with  the  stoical  reserve  of  his  countenance  and  manners.  He 
even  chid  his  daughter  for  having  neglected,  in  the  distress 
of  the  morning,  some  trifling  domestic  duties  which  fell  under 
her  department. 

"Why,  what  meaneth  this,  Jeanie?"  said  the  old  man. 
"The  brown  four-year-auld's  milk  is  not  seiled  yet,  nor  the 
bowies  put  up  on  the  bink.  If  ye  neglect  your  warldly  du- 
ties in  the  day  of  affliction,  what  confidence  have  I  that  ye 
mind  the  greater  matters  that  concern  salvation?  God  knows, 
our  bowies/ and  our  pipkins,  and  our  draps  o?  milk,  and  our 
bits  o'  bread  are  nearer  and  dearer  to  us  than  the  bread 
of  life." 

Jeanie,  not  unpleased  to  hear  her  father's  thoughts  thus  ex- 
pand themselves  beyond  the  sphere  of  his  immediate  distress, 
obeyed  him,  and  proceeded  to  put  her  household  matters  in 
order;  while  old  David  moved  from  place  to  place  about  his 
ordinary  employments,  scarce  showing,  unless  by  a  nervous 
impatience  at  remaining  long  stationary,  an  occasional  convul- 
sive sigh,  or  twinkle  of  the  eyelid,  that  he  was  labouring  under 
the  yoke  of  such  bitter  affliction. 

The  hour  of  noon  came  on,  and  the  father  and  child  sat 
down  to  their  homely  repast.  In  his  petition  for  a  blessing 
on  the  meal,  the  poor  old  man  added  to  his  supplication  a 
prayer  that  the  bread  eaten  in  sadness  of  heart,  and  the  bitter 
waters  of  Merah,  might  be  made  as  nourishing  as  those  which 
had  been  poured  forth  from  a  full  cup  and  a  plentiful  basket 
and  store ;  and  having  concluded  his  benediction,  and  resumed 
the  bonnet  which  he  had  laid  "  reverently  aside, "  he  proceed- 
ed to  exhort  his  daughter  to  eat,  not  by  example  indeed,  but 
at  least  by  precept. 

"The  man  after  God's  own  heart,"  he  said,  "washed  and 
anointed  himself,  and  did  eat  bread,  in  order  to  express  his 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


175 


submission  under  a  dispensation  of  suffering,  and  it  did  not 
become  a  Christian  man  or  woman  so  to  cling  to  creature- 
comforts  of  wife  or  bairns  (here  the  words  became  too  great, 
as  it  were,  for  his  utterance)  as  to  forget  the  first  duty — sub- 
mission to  the  Divine  will." 

To  add  force  to  his  precept,  he  took  a  morsel  on  his  plate, 
but  nature  proved  too  strong  even  for  the  powerful  feelings 
with  which  he  endeavoured  to  bridle  it.  Ashamed  of  his 
weakness,  he  started  up  and  ran  out  of  the  house,  with  haste 
very  unlike  the  deliberation  of  his  usual  movements.  In  less 
than  five  minutes  he  returned,  having  successfully  struggled 
to  recover  his  ordinary  composure  of  mind  and  countenance, 
and  affected  to  colour  over  his  late  retreat  by  muttering 
that  he  thought  he  heard  the  "  young  staig  loose  in  the 
byre." 

He  did  not  again  trust  himself  with  the  subject  of  his  for- 
mer conversation,  and  his  daughter  was  glad  to  see  that  he 
seemed  to  avoid  further  discourse  on  that  agitating  topic. 
The  hours  glided  on,  as  on  they  must  and  do  pass,  whether 
winged  with  joy  or  laden  with  affliction.  The  sun  set  beyond 
the  dusky  eminence  of  the  Castle  and  the  screen  of  western 
hills,  and  the  close  of  evening  summoned  David  Deans  and  his 
daughter  to  the  family  duty  of  the  evening.  It  came  bitterly 
upon  Jeanie's  recollection  how  often,  when  the  hour  of  worship 
approached,  she  used  to  watch  the  lengthening  shadows,  and 
look  out  from  the  door  of  the  house,  to  see  if  she  could  spy  her 
sister's  return  homeward.  Alas!  this  idle  and  thoughtless 
waste  of  time,  to  what  evils  had  it  not  finally  led?  And  was 
she  altogether  guiltless,  who,  noticing  Erne's  turn  to  idle  and 
light  society,  had  not  called  in  her  father's  authority  to  restrain 
her?  "But  I  acted  for  the  best,"  she  again  reflected,  "and 
who  could  have  expected  such  a  growth  of  evil  from  one  grain 
of  human  leaven  in  a  disposition  so  kind,  and  candid,  and 
generous  ?" 

As  they  sate  down  to  the  "  exercise, 99  as  it  is  called,  a  chair 
happened  accidentally  to  stand  in  the  place  which  Effie  usually 
occupied.  David  Deans  saw  his  daughter's  eyes  swim  in 
tears  as  they  were  directed  towards  this  object,  and  pushed 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


\t  aside  with  a  gesture  of  some  impatience,  as  if  desirous  to 
destroy  every  memorial  of  earthly  interest  when  about  to  ad- 
dress the  Deity.  The  portion  of  Scripture  was  read,  the  psalm 
was  sung,  the  prayer  was  made ;  and  it  was  remarkable  that, 
in  discharging  these  duties,  the  old  man  avoided  all  passages 
and  expressions,  of  which  Scripture  affords  so  many,  that 
might  be  considered  as  applicable  to  his  own  domestic  mis- 
fortune. In  doing  so  it  was  perhaps  his  intention  to  spare 
the  feelings  of  his  daughter,  as  well  as  to  maintain,  in  out- 
ward show  at  least,  that  stoical  appearance  of  patient  endur- 
ance of  all  the  evil  which  earth  could  bring,  which  was,  in  his 
opinion,  essential  to  the  character  of  one  who  rated  all  earthly 
things  at  their  own  just  estimate  of  nothingness.  When  he 
had  finished  the  duty  of  the  evening,  he  came  up  to  his  daugh- 
ter, wished  her  good-night,  and,  having  done  so,  continued  to 
hold  her  by  the  hands  for  half  a  minute ;  then  drawing  her 
towards  him,  kissed  her  forehead,  and  ejaculated:  "The  God 
of  Israel  bless  you,  even  with  the  blessings  of  the  promise, 
my  dear  bairn!" 

It  was  not  either  in  the  nature  or  habits  of  David  Deans  to 
seem  a  fond  father ;  nor  was  he  often  observed  to  experience, 
or  at  least  to  evince,  that  fulness  of  the  heart  which  seeks  to 
expand  itself  in  tender  expressions  or  caresses  even  to  those 
who  were  dearest  to  him.  On  the  contrary,  he  used  to  cen- 
sure this  as  a  degree  of  weakness  in  several  of  his  neighbours, 
and  particularly  in  poor  widow  Butler.  It  followed,  however, 
from  the  rarity  of  such  emotions  in  this  self-denied  and  re- 
served man,  that  his  children  attached  to  occasional  marks  of 
his  affection  and  approbation  a  degree  of  high  interest  and 
solemnity,  well  considering  them  as  evidences  of  feelings 
which  were  only  expressed  when  they  became  too  intense  for 
suppression  or  concealment. 

With  deep  emotion,  therefore,  did  he  bestow,  and  his  daugh- 
ter receive,  this  benediction  and  paternal  caress.  "  And  you, 
my  dear  father, "  exclaimed  J eanie,  when  the  door  had  closed 
upon  the  venerable  old  man,  "  may  you  have  purchased  and 
promised  blessings  multiplied  upon  you — upon  you,  who  walk 
in  this  world  as  though  ye  were  not  of  the  world,  and  hold  all 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


177 


that  it  can  give  or  take  away  but  as  the  midges  that  the  sun- 
blink  brings  out,  and  the  evening  wind  sweeps  away!" 

She  now  made  preparation  for  her  night-walk.  Her  father 
slept  in  another  part  of  the  dwelling,  and,  regular  in  all  his 
habits,  seldom  or  never  left  his  apartment  when  he  had  be- 
taken himself  to  it  for  the  evening.  It  was  therefore  easy  for 
her  to  leave  the  house  unobserved,  so  soon  as  the  time  ap- 
proached at  which  she  was  to  keep  her  appointment.  But 
the  step  she  was  about  to  take  had  difficulties  and  terrors  in 
her  own  eyes,  though  she  had  no  reason  to  apprehend  her  fa- 
ther's interference.  Her  life  had  been  spent  in  the  quiet,  uni- 
form, and  regular  seclusion  of  their  peaceful  and  monotonous 
household.  The  very  hour  which  some  damsels  of  the  present 
day,  as  well  of  her  own  as  of  higher  degree,  would  consider 
as  the  natural  period  of  commencing  an  evening  of  pleasure, 
brought,  in  her  opinion,  awe  and  solemnity  in  it;  and  the 
resolution  she  had  taken  had  a  strange,  daring,  and  adven- 
turous character,  to  which  she  could  hardly  reconcile  herself 
when  the  moment  approached  for  putting  it  into  execution. 
Her  hands  trembled  as  she  snooded  her  fair  hair  beneath  the 
ribband,  then  the  only  ornament  or  cover  which  young  unmar- 
ried women  wore  on  their  head,  and  as  she  adjusted  the  scar- 
let tartan  screen  or  muffler  made  of  plaid,  which  the  Scottish 
women  wore,  much  in  the  fashion  of  the  black  silk  veils  still 
a  part  of  female  dress  in  the  Netherlands.  A  sense  of  impro- 
priety as  well  as  of  danger  pressed  upon  her,  as  she  lifted  the 
latch  of  her  paternal  mansion  to  leave  it  on  so  wild  an  expe- 
dition, and  at  so  late  an  hour,  unprotected,  and  without  the 
knowledge  of  her  natural  guardian. 

When  she  found  herself  abroad  and  in  the  open  fields, 
additional  subjects  of  apprehension  crowded  upon  her.  The 
dim  cliffs  and  scattered  rocks,  interspersed  with  green  sward, 
through  which  she  had  to  pass  to  the  place  of  appointment, 
as  they  glimmered  before  her  in  a  clear  autumn  night,  recalled 
to  her  memory  many  a  deed  of  violence,  which,  according 
to  tradition,  had  been  done  and  suffered  among  them.  In 
earlier  days  they  had  been  the  haunt  of  robbers  and  assas- 
sins, the  memory  of  whose  crimes  is  preserved  in  the  various 
12 


178 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


edicts  which  the  council  of  the  city,  and  even  the  parliament 
of  Scotland,  had  passed  for  dispersing  their  bands,  and  ensur- 
ing safety  to  the  lieges,  so  near  the  precincts  of  the  city.  The 
names  of  these  criminals,  and  of  their  atrocities,  were  still  re- 
membered in  traditions  of  the  scattered  cottages  and  the  neigh- 
bouring suburb.  In  latter  times,  as  we  have  already  noticed, 
the  sequestered  and  broken  character  of  the  ground  rendered  it 
a  fit  theatre  for  duels  and  rencontres  among  the  fiery  youth  of  the 
period.  Two  or  three  of  these  incidents,  all  sanguinary,  and 
one  of  them  fatal  in  its  termination,  had  happened  since  Deans 
came  to  live  at  St.  Leonard's.  His  daughter's  recollections, 
therefore,  were  of  blood  and  horror  as  she  pursued  the  small 
scarce-tracked  solitary  path,  every  step  of  which  conveyed 
her  to  a  greater  distance  from  help,  and  deeper  into  the  omi- 
nous seclusion  of  these  unhallowed  precincts. 

As  the  moon  began  to  peer  forth  on  the  scene  with  a  doubt- 
ful, flitting,  and  solemn  light,  Jeanie's  apprehensions  took  an- 
other turn,  too  peculiar  to  her  rank  and  country  to  remain  un- 
noticed.   But  to  trace  its  origin  will  require  another  chapter. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

The  spirit  I  have  seen 
May  be  the  devil.    And  the  devil  has  power 
To  assume  a  pleasing  shape. 

Hamlet. 

Witchcraft  and  demonology,  as  we  have  had  already  occa- 
sion to  remark,  were  at  this  period  believed  in  by  almost  all 
ranks,  but  more  especially  among  the  stricter  classes  of  Pres- 
byterians, whose  government,  when  their  party  were  at  the 
head  of  the  state,  had  been  much  sullied  by  their  eagerness 
to  inquire  into  and  persecute  these  imaginary  crimes.  Now, 
in  this  point  of  view,  also,  St.  Leonard's  Crags  and  the  adja- 
cent chase  were  a  degraded  and  ill-reputed  district.  Not  only 
had  witches  held  their  meetings  there,  but  even  of  very  late 
years  the  enthusiast,  or  impostor,  mentioned  in  the  Pandcemo- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


179 


nium  of  Richard  Bovet,  Gentleman, 1  had,  among  the  recesses 
of  these  romantic  cliffs,  found  his  way  into  the  hidden  retreats 
where  the  fairies  revel  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 

With  all  these  legends  Jeanie  Deans  was  too  well  acquaint- 
ed to  escape  that  strong  impression  which  they  usually  make 
on  the  imagination.  Indeed,  relations  of  this  ghostly  kind  had 
been  familiar  to  her  from  her  infancy,  for  they  were  the  only 
relief  which  her  father's  conversation  afforded  from  controver- 
sial argument,  or  the  gloomy  history  of  the  strivings  and  tes- 
timonies, escapes,  captures,  tortures,  and  executions  of  those 
martyrs  of  the  Covenant  with  whom  it  was  his  chiefest  boast 
to  say  he  had  been  acquainted.  In  the  recesses  of  mountains, 
in  caverns,  and  in  morasses,  to  which  these  persecuted  enthu- 
siasts were  so  ruthlessly  pursued,  they  conceived  they  had 
often  to  contend  with  the  visible  assaults  of  the  Enemy  of 
mankind,  as  in  the  cities  and  in  the  cultivated  fields  they 
were  exposed  to  those  of  the  tyrannical  government  and  their 
soldiery.  Such  were  the  terrors  which  made  one  of  their 
gifted  seers  exclaim,  when  his  companion  returned  to  him, 
after  having  left  him  alone  in  a  haunted  cavern  in  Sorn  in 
Galloway :  "  It  is  hard  living  in  this  world — incarnate  devils 
above  the  earth,  and  devils  under  the  earth!  Satan  has 
been  here  since  ye  went  away,  but  I  have  dismissed  him  by 
resistance;  we  will  be  no  more  troubled  with  him  this  night." 
David  Deans  believed  this,  and  many  other  such  ghostly 
encounters  and  victories  on  the  faith  of  the  ansars,  or  aux- 
iliaries of  the  banished  prophets.  This  event  was  beyond 
David's  remembrance.  But  he  used  to  tell  with  great  awe, 
yet  not  without  a  feeling  of  proud  superiority  to  his  audi- 
tors, how  he  himself  had  been  present  at  a  field-meeting  at 
Crochmade,  when  the  duty  of  the  day  was  interrupted  by 
the  apparition  of  a  tall  black  man,  who,  in  the  act  of  cross- 
ing a  ford  to  join  the  congregation,  lost  ground,  and  was 
carried  down  apparently  by  the  force  of  the  stream.  All 
were  instantly  at  work  to  assist  him,  but  with  so  little  suc- 
cess that  ten  or  twelve  stout  men,  who  had  hold  of  the  rope 
which  they  had  cast  in  to  his  aid,  were  rather  in  danger  to  be 
1  See  The  Fairy  Boy  of  Leith.    Note  19. 


180 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


da  ^ged  into  the  stream,  and  lose  their  own  lives,  than  likely 
to  save  that  of  the  supposed  perishing  man.  "But  famous 
John  Semple  of  Carspharn, "  David  Deans  used  to  say  with 
exultation,  "  saw  the  whaup  in  the  rape.  'Quit  the  rape/  he 
cried  to  us — for  I  that  was  but  a  callant  had  a  haud  o?  the 
rape  mysell — 'it  is  the  Great  Enemy!  he  will  burn,  but  not 
drown;  his  design  is  to  disturb  the  good  wark,  by  raising 
wonder  and  confusion  in  your  minds,  to  put  off  from  your 
spirits  all  that  ye  hae  heard  and  felt. ?  Sae  we  let  go  the 
rape/'  said  David,  "  and  he  went  adown  the  water  screeching 
and  bullering  like  a  Bull  of  Bashan,  as  he's  ca'd  in  Scripture."  1 
Trained  in  these  and  similar  legends,  it  was  no  wonder  that 
Jeanie  began  to  feel  an  ill-defii  ed  apprehension,  not  merely 
of  the  phantoms  which  might  beset  her  way,  but  of  the  qual- 
ity, nature,  and  purpose  of  the  being  who  had  thus  appointed 
her  a  meeting  at  a  place  and  hour  of  horror,  and  at  a  time  when 
her  mind  must  be  necessarily  full  of  thps  tempting  and  ensnar- 
ing thoughts  of  grief  and  despair  which  were  supposed  to  lay 
sufferers  particularly  open  to  the  temptations  of  the  Evil  One. 
If  such  an  idea  had  crossed  even  Butler  <,  Well-informed  mind, 
it  was  calculated  to  make  a  much  stronger  impression  upon 
hers.  Yet  firmly  believing  the  possibility  of  an  encounter  so 
terrible  to  flesh  and  blood,  Jeanie,  with  a  degree  of  resolution 
of  which  we  cannot  sufficiently  estimate  the  me]  it,  because  the 
incredulity  of  the  age  has  rendered  us  strangers  to  the  nature 
and  extent  of  her  feelings,  persevered  in  her  ftetern  ination  not 
to  omit  an  opportunity  of  doing  something  towards  saving  her 
sister,  although,  in  the  attempt  to  avail  herself  of  it.  she  might 
be  exposed  to  dangers  so  dreadful  to  her  imagination.  So,  like 
Christiana  in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  when  traversing  with  a 
timid  yet  resolved  step  the  terrors  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
of  Death,  she  glided  on  by  rock  and  stone,  "  now  in  glimmer 
and  now  in  gloom,"  as  her  path  lay  through  moonlight  or 
shadow,  and  endeavoured  to  overpower  the  suggestions  of 
fear,  sometimes  by  fixing  her  mind  upon  the  distressed  condi- 
tion of  her  sister,  and  the  duty  she  lay  under  to  afford  her 
aid,  should  that  be  in  her  power,  and  more  frequently  by  re- 
1  See  Intercourse  of  the  Covenanters  with  the  Invisible  World.   Note  20. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


181 


curring  in  mental  prayer  to  the  protection  of  that  Being  to 
whom  night  is  as  noonday. 

Thus  drowning  at  one  time  her  fears  by  fixing  her  niind  on 
a  subject  of  overpowering  interest,  and  arguing  them  down  at 
others  by  referring  herself  to  the  protection  of  the  Deity,  she 
at  length  approached  the  place  assigned  for  this  mysterious 
conference. 

It  was  situated  in  the  depth  of  the  valley  behind  Salisbury 
Crags,  which  has  for  a  background  the  northwestern  shoulder 
of  the  mountain  called  Arthur's  Seat5  on  whose  descent  still 
remain  the  ruins  of  what  was  once  a  chapel,  or  hermitage, 
dedicated  to  St.  Anthony  the  Eremite.  A  better  site  for  such 
a  building  could  hardly  have  been  selected;  for  the  chapel, 
situated  among  the  rude  and  pathless  cliffs,  lies  in  a  desert, 
even  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  a  rich,  populous,  and  tumul- 
tuous capital ;  and  the  hum  of  the  city  might  mingle  with  the 
orisons  of  the  recluses,  conveying  as  little  of  worldly  interest 
as  if  it  had  been  the  roar  of  the  distant  ocean.  Beneath  the 
steep  ascent  on  which  these  ruins  are  still  visible,  was,  and 
perhaps  is  still,  pointed  out  the  place  where  the  wretch  JSTicol 
v  Muschat,  who  has  been  already  mentioned  in  these  pages,  had 
■  closed  a  long  scene  of  cruelty  towards  his  unfortunate  wife  by 
murdering  her,  with  circumstances  of  uncommon  barbarity. 
The  execration  in  which  the  man's  crime  was  held  extended 
itself  to  the  place  where  it  was  perpetrated,  which  was  marked 
by  a  small  cairn,  or  heap  of  stones,  composed  of  those  which 
each  chance  passenger  had  thrown  there  in  testimony  of  ab- 
horrence, and  on  the  principle,  it  would  seem,  of  the  ancient 
British  malediction :  "  May  you  have  a  cairn  for  your  burial- 
j)lace!" 

As  our  heroine  approached  this  ominous  and  unhallowed 
spot,  she  paused  and  looked  to  the  moon,  now  rising  broad  on 
the  northwest,  and  shedding  a  more  distinct  light  than  it  had 
afforded  during  her  walk  thither.  Eyeing  the  planet  for  a 
moment,'  she  then  slowly  and  fearfully  turned  her  head  tow- 
ards the  cairn,  from  which  it  was  at  first  averted.  She  was 
at  first  disappointed.  Nothing  was  visible  beside  the  little 
pi  lo  of  stones,  which  shone  grey  in  the  moonlight.    A  multitude 


182 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  confused  suggestions  rushed  on  her  mind.  Had  her  corre- 
spondent deceived  her,  and  broken  his  appointment?  was  he 
too  ta?42  L  tne  appointment  he  had  made?  or  had  some  strange 
turn  of  fete  prevented  him  from  appearing  as  he  proposed? 
or,  if  he  were  an  unearthly  being,  as  her  secret  apprehensions 
suggested,  was  it.  his  object  merely  to  delude  her  with  false 
hopes,  and  put  her  to  unnecessary  toil  and  terror,  according 
to  the  nature,  as  she  Wad  heard,  of  those  wandering  demons? 
or  did  he  purpose  to  tjlast  her  with  the  sudden  horrors  of  his 
presence  when  she  hau  con  e  close  to  the  place  of  rendezvous? 
These  anxious  reflections  did  not  prevent  her  approaching  to 
the  cairn  with  a  pace  that,  though  slow,  was  determined. 

When  she  was  within  two  yards  of  the  heap  of  stones,  a 
figure  rose  suddenly  up  from  behind  it,  and  Jeanie  scarce  for- 
bore to  scream  aloud  at  what  seemed  the  realisation  of  the 
most  frightful  of  her  anticipations.  She  constrained  herself 
to  silence,  however,  and,  making  a  dead  pause,  suffered  the 
figure  to  open  the  conversation,  which  he  did  by  asking,  in  a 
voice  which  agitation  rendered  tremulous  and  hollow ;  "  Are 
you  the  sister  of  that  ill-fated  young  woman  ?" 

"I  am;  I  am  the  sister  of  Effie  Deans  I?  exclaimed  Jeanie. 
"  And  as  ever  you  hope  God  will  hear  you  at  your  need,  tell 
me,  if  you  can  tell,  what  can  be  done  to  save  her!" 

"  I  do  not  hope  God  will  hear  me  at  my  need, "  was  the 
singular  answer.  "  I  do  not  deserve— I  do  not  expect  He 
will."  This  desperate  language  he  uttered  in  a  tone  calmer 
than  that  with  which  he  had  at  first  spoken,  probably  because 
the  shock  of  first  addressing  her  was  what  he  felt  most  diffi- 
cult to  overcome. 

Jeanie  remained  mute  with  horror  to  hear  language  ex- 
pressed so  utterly  foreign  to  all  which  she  had  ever  been  ac- 
quainted with,  that  it  sounded  in  her  ears  rather  like  that  of 
a  fiend  than  of  a  human  being. 

The  stranger  pursued  his  address  to  her  without  Been]  ing  to 
notice  her  surprise.  "  You  see  before  you  a  wretch  predestined 
to  evil  here  and  hereafter. " 

"For  the  sake  of  Heaven,  that  hears  and  sees  lis,"  said 
Jeanie,  "  dinna  speak  in  this  desperate  fashion.    The  Gospel 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


183 


is  sent  to  the  chief  of  sinners — to  the  most  miserable  among 
the  miserable." 

"  Then  should  I  have  my  own  share  therein, "  said  thse  stran- 
ger, "  if  you  call  it  sinful  to  have  been  the  destruction  of  the 
mother  that  bore  me,  of  the  friend  that  loved  me,  of  the  wo- 
man that  trusted  me,  of  the  innocent  child  that  was  born  to 
me.  If  to  have  done  all  this  is  to  be  a  sinner,  and  to  survive 
it  is  to  be  miserable,  then  am  I  most  guilty  and  most  miser- 
able indeed." 

"Then  you  are  the  wicked  cause  of  my  sister's  ruin?"  said 
Jeanie,  with  a  natural  touch  of  indignation  expressed  in  her 
tone  of  voice. 

"  Curse  me  for  it  if  you  will, "  said  the  stranger ;  "  I  have 
well  deserved  it  at  your  hand. 99 

"  It  is  fitter  for  me, 99  said  Jeanie,  "  to  pray  to  God  to  for- 
give you." 

"  Do  as  you  will,  howr  you  will,  or  what  you  will, "  he  re- 
plied, with  vehemence ;  "  only  promise  to  obey  my  directions 
and  save  your  sister's  life." 

"  I  must  first  know, "  said  Jeanie,  "  the  means  you  would 
have  me  use  in  her  behalf." 

"  No !  you  must  first  swear — solemnly  swear — that  you  will 
employ  them,  when  I  make  them  known  to  you." 

"  Surely  it  is  needless  to  swear  that  I  will  do  all  that  is 
lawful  to  a  Christian  to  save  the  life  of  my  sister?" 

"I  will  have  no  reservation!"  thundered  the  stranger. 
"  Lawful  or  unlawful,  Christian  or  heathen,  you  shall  swear 
to  do  my  hest  and  act  by  my  counsel,  or — you  little  know 
whose  wrath  you  provoke!" 

"  I  will  think  on  what  you  have  said, "  said  Jeanie,  who 
began  to  get  much  alarmed  at  the  frantic  vehemence  of  his 
manner,  and  disputed  in  her  own  mind  whether  she  spoke  to 
a  maniac  or  an  apostate  spirit  incarnate — "  I  will  think  on 
what  you  say,  and  let  you  ken  to-morrow." 

" To-morrow!"  exclaimed  the  man,  with  a  laugh  of  scorn. 
"And  where  will  I  be  to-morrow?  or  where  will  you  be  to- 
night, unless  you  swear  to  walk  by  my  counsel?  There  was 
one  accursed  deed  done  at  this  spot  before  now ;  and  there 


184 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


shall  be  another  to  match  it  unless  you  yield  up  to  my  guid- 
ance- bo  ly  and  soul." 

As  he  spoke,  he  offered  a  pistol  at  the  unfortunate  young 
woman.  She  neither  fled  nor  fainted,  but  sunk  on  her  knees 
and  asked  him  to  spare  her  life. 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  say?"  said  the  unmoved  ruffian. 

"  Do  not  dip  your  hands  in  the  blood  of  a  defenceless  creat- 
ure that  has  trusted  to  you,"  said  Jeanie,  still  on  her  knees. 

"  Is  that  all  you  can  say  for  your  life?  Have  you  no  prom- 
ise to  give?  Will  you  destroy  j7our  sister,  and  compel  me  to 
shed  more  blood?" 

"  I  can  promise  nothing,"  said  Jeanie,  "which  is  unlawful 
for  a  Christian." 

He  cocked  the  weapon  and  held  it  towards  her. 

"May  God  forgive  you!"  she  said,  pressing  her  hands  for- 
cibly against  her  eyes. 

"D  n!"  muttered  the  man;  anu.  turning  aside  from 

her,  he  uncocked  the  pistol  and  repla-  v3d  it  in  his  pocket.  "  I 
am  a  villain, "  he  said,  "  steeped  in  guilt  and  wretchedness, 
but  not  wicked  enough  to  do  you  any  barm!  I  only  wished 
to  terrify  you  into  my  measures.  She  hears  me  not — she  is 
gone!    Great  God!  what  a  wretch  am  I  b^oome!" 

As  he  spoke,  she  recovered  herself  from  an  agony  which 
partook  of  the  bitterness  of  death ;  and  in  a  minute  or  two, 
through  the  strong  exertion  of  her  natural  sense  and  courage, 
collected  herself  sufficiently  to  understand  he  intended  her 
no  personal  injury. 

"No!"  he  repeated;  "I  would  not  add  to  the  murder  of 
your  sister,  and  of  her  child,  that  of  any  one  belonging  to  her! 
Mad,  frantic,  as  I  am,  and  unrestrained  by  either  fear  or 
mercy,  given  up  to  the  possession  of  an  evil  bein^,  and  for- 
saken by  all  that  is  good,  I  would  not  hurt  yo  /t  w  ere  the 
world  offered  me  for  a  bribe !  But,  for  the  sake  of  all  that  is 
dear  to  you,  swear  you  will  follow  my  counsel.  Take  this 
weapon,  shoot  me  through  the  head,  and  with  your  own  hand 
revenge  your  sister's  wrong,  only  follow  the  course — the 
only  course,  by  which  her  life  can  be  saved." 

'  Alas!  is  she  innocent  or  guilty?" 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


185 


"  She  is  guiltless — guiltless  of  everything  but  of  having 
trusted  a  villain !  Yet,  had  it  not  been  for  those  that  were 
worse  than  I  am — yes,  worse  than  I  am,  though  I  am  bad  in- 
deed— this  misery  had  not  befallen." 

"And  my  sister's  child — does  it  live?"  said  Jeanie. 

"No;  it  was  murdered — the  new-born  infant  was  barbar- 
ously murdered, "  he  uttered  in  a  low,  yet  stern  and  sustained 
voice;  "bat,"  he  added  hastily,  "not  by  her  knowledge  or 
consent. " 

"  Then  why  cannot  the  guilty  be  brought  to  justice,  and  the 
innocent  freed?" 

"  Torment  me  not  with  questions  which  can  serve  no  pur- 
pose, "  he  sternly  replied.  "  The  deed  was  done  by  those  who 
are  far  enough  from  pursuit,  and  safe  enough  from  discovery ! 
No  one  can  save  Effie  but  yourself. " 

"Woe's  me!  how  is  it  in  my  power?"  asked  Jeanie,  in 
despondency. 

"  Hearken  to  me !  You  have  sense — you  can  apprehend  my 
meaning — I  will  trust  you.  Your  sister  is  innocent  of  the 
crime  charged  against  her  " 

"Thank  God  for  that!"  said  Jeanie. 

"  Be  still  and  hearken!  The  person  who  assisted  her  in  her 
illness  murdered  the  child;  but  it  was  without  the  mother's 
knowledge  or  consent.  She  is  therefore  guiltless — as  guiltless 
as  the  unhappy  innocent  that  but  gasped  a  few  minutes  in  this 
unhappy  world ;  the  better  was  its  hap  to  be  so  soon  at  rest. 
She  is  innocent  as  that  infant,  and  yet  she  must  die ;  it  is  im- 
possible to  clear  her  of  the  law!" 

"  Cannot'  the  wretches  be  discovered  and  given  up  to  punish- 
ment?" said  Jeanie. 

"  Do  you  think  you  will  persuade  those  who  are  hardened 
in  guilt  to  die  to  save  another?  Is  that  the  reed  you  would 
lean  to?" 

"But  you  said  there  was  a  remedy,"  again  gasped  out  the 
terrified  young  woman. 

"  There  is, "  answered  the  stranger,  "  and  it  is  in  your  own 
hands.  The  blow  which  the  law  aims  cannot  be  broken  by 
directly  encountering  it,  but  it  may  be  turned  aside.  You 


186 


WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS. 


saw  your  sister  during  the  period  preceding  the  birth  of  hei 
child;  what  is  so  natural  as  that  she  should  have  mentioned 
her  condition  to  you?  The  doing  so  would,  as  their  cant  goes, 
take  the  case  from  under  the  statute,  for  it  removes  the  qual- 
ity of  concealment.  I  know  their  jargon,  and  have  had  sad 
cause  to  know  it ;  and  the  quality  of  concealment  is  essential 
to  this  statutory  offence.  Nothing  is  so  natural  as  that  Effie 
should  have  mentioned  her  condition  to  you ;  think — reflect — 
I  am  positive  that  she  did." 

"Woe's  me!"  said  Jeanie,  "she  never  spoke  to  me  on  the 
subject,  but  grat  sorely  when  I  spoke  to  her  about  her  altered 
looks  and  the  change  on  her  spirits." 

"  You  asked  her  questions  on  the  subject?"  he  said,  eagerly. 
"  You  must  remember  her  answer  was  a  confession  that  she 
had  been  ruined  by  a  villain — yes,  lay  a  strong  emphasis  on 
that — a  cruel  false  villain  call  it — any  other  name  is  unneces- 
sary ;  and  that  she  bore  under  her  bosom  the  consequences  of 
his  guilt  and  her  folly ;  and  that  he  had  assured  her  he  would 
provide  safely  for  her  approaching  illness.  Well  he  kept  his 
word!"  These  last  words  he  spoke  as  it  were  to  himself,  and 
with  a  violent  gesture  of  self-accusation,  and  then  calmly  pro- 
ceeded: "You  will  remember  all  this?*  That  is  all  that  is 
necessary  to  be  said." 

"But  I  cannot  remember,"  answered  Jeanie,  with  simplic- 
ity, "  that  which  Effie  never  told  me. " 

"Are  you  so  dull— so  very  dull  of  apprehension?"  he  ex- 
claimed, suddenly  grasping  her  arm,  and  holding  it  firm  in 
his  hand.  "  I  tell  you  (speaking  between  his  teeth,  and  under 
his  breath,  but  with  great  energy),  you  must  remember  that 
she  told  you  all  this,  whether  she  ever  said  a  syllable  of  it  or 
no.  You  must  repeat  this  tale  in  which  there  is  no  falsehood, 
except  in  so  far  as  it  was  not  told  to  you,  before  these  Jus- 
tices— Justiciary — whatever  they  call  their  bloodthirsty  court, 
and  save  your  sister  from  being  murdered,  and  them  from  be- 
coming murderers.  Do  not  hesitate;  I  pledge  life  and  salva- 
tion, that  in  saying  what  I  have  said,  you  will  only  spe<A  the 
simple  truth." 

"  But,"  replied  Jeanie,  whose  judgment  was  too  accurate  lot 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


187 


to  see  the  sophistry  of  this  argument,  "  I  shall  be  man-sworr\ 
in  the  very  thing  in  which  my  testimony  is  wanted,  for  j#  is 
the  concealment  for  which  poor  Effie  is  blamed,  and  yo\i  would 
make  me  tell  a  falsehood  anent  it. " 

"  I  see, "  he  said,  "  my  first  suspicions  of  yoia  were  right, 
and  that  you  will  let  your  sister,  innocent,  fair,'  and  guiltless, 
except  in  trusting  a  villain,  die  the  death  of  a  murderess, 
rather  than  bestow  the  breath  of  your  mouth  and  the  sound  of 
your  voice  to  save  her." 

"  I  wad  ware  the  best  blood  in  my  body  to  keep  her  skaith- 
less,"  said  Jeanie,  weeping  in  bitter  agony;  "but  I  canna 
change  right  into  wrang,  or  make  that  true  which  is  false." 

"Foolish,  hard-hearted  girl,"  said  the  stranger,  "are  you 
afraid  of  what  they  may  do  to  you?  I  tell  you,  even  the  re- 
tainers of  the  law,  who  course  life  as  greyhounds  do  hares, 
will  rejoice  at  the  escape  of  a  creature  so  young — so  beautiful; 
that  they  will  not  suspect  your  tale ;  that,  if  they  did  suspect 
it,  they  would  consider  you  as  deserving,  not  only  of  forgive- 
ness, but  of  praise  for  your  natural  affection." 

"  It  is  not  man  I  fear, "  said  Jeanie,  looking  upward ;  "  the 
God,  whose  name  I  must  call  on  to  witness  the  truth  of  what 
I  say,  He  will  know  the  falsehood. " 

"  And  He  will  know  the  motive, "  said  the  stranger,  eager- 
ly ;  "  He  will  know  that  you  are  doing  this,  not  for  lucre  of 
gain,  but  to  save  the  life  of  the  innocent,  and  prevent  the 
commission  of  a  worse  crime  than  that  which  the  law  seeks  to 
avenge." 

"  He  has  given  us  a  law,"  said  Jeanie,  "  for  the  lamp  of  our 
path ;  if  we  stra^mmjt_we_err  against  JmowIeHgel  I  may 
not  do  evil,  even  that  good  may  come  out  of  it.  But  you — 
you  that  ken  all  this  to  be  true,  which  I  must  take  on  your 
word — you  that,  if  I  understood  what  you  said  e'en  now,  prom- 
ised her  shelter  and  protection  in  her  travail,  why  do  not  you 
step  forward  and  bear  leal  and  soothfast  evidence  in  her  be- 
half, as  ye  may  with  a  clear  conscience?" 

"  To  whom  do  you  talk  of  a  clear  conscience,  woman?"  said 
he,  with  a  sudden  fierceness  which  renewed  her  terrors — "  to 
me  ?    I  have  not  known  one  for  many  a  year.    Bear  witness 


188 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


in  her  behalf? — a  proper  witness,  that,  even  to  speak  these 
words  to  a  woman  of  so  little  consequence  as  yourself, 
giust  choose  such  an  hour  and  such  a  place  as  this.  When 
you  see  owls  and  bats  fly  abroad,  like  larks,  in  the  sunshine, 
you  may  expect  to  see  such  as  I  am  in  the  assemblies  of  men. 
Hush!  listen  to  that." 

A  voice  was  heard  to  sing  one  of  those  wild  and  monotonous 
strains  so  common  in  Scotland,  and  to  which  the  natives  of 
that  country  chant'  their  old  ballads.  The  sound  ceased,  then 
came  nearer  and  was  renew  ?d;  the  stranger  listened  attentive- 
ly, still  holding  Jeanie  by  fch  arm  (as  she  stood  by  him  in  mo- 
tionless terror),  as  if  to  pre  yen  her  interrupting  the  strain  by 
speaking  or  stirring.  Whei>  tte  sounds  were  renewed,  the 
words  were  distinctly  audible : 

M  When  the  glede's  in  the  blue  cloud, 
The  lavrock  lies"  still ; 
When  the  hound's  in  the  green-wood, 
The  hind  keeps  the  hill." 

The  person  who  sung  kept  a  strained  and  powerful  voice  at  its 
highest  pitch,  so  that  it  could  be  heard  at  a  very  considerable 
distance.  As  the  song  ceased,  they  might  hear  a  stifled 
sound,  as  of  steps  and  whispers  of  persons  approaching  them. 
The  song  was  again  raised,  but  the  tune  was  changed : 

"  0  sleep  ye  sound,  Sir  James,  she  said, 
When  ye  suld  rise  and  ride  ? 
There's  twenty  men,  wi'  bow  and  blade, 
Are  seeking  where  ye  hide." 

"  I  dare  stay  no  longer, "  said  the  stranger.  "JEjeJbii  tl  home, 
or  remain  till  they  come  up,  you  have  nothing  to  fear;  but 
do  not  tell  you  saw  me:  your  sister's  fate  is  in  your  7;ahds." 
So  saying,  he  turned  from  her,  and  with  a  swiftly  t  cau- 
tiously noiseless  step,  plunged  into  the  darkness  on  the  side 
most  remote  from  the  sounds  which  they  heard  approaching, 
and  was  soon  lost  to  her  sight.  Jeanie  remained  by  the  cairn 
terrified  beyond  expression,  and  uncertain  whether  she  ought 
to  fly  homeward  with  all  the  speed  she  could  exert,  or  wait 
the  approach  of  those  who  were  advancing  towards  her.  nhis 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  189 

uncertainty  detained  her  so  long  that  she  now  distinctly  saw 
two  or  three  figures  already  so  near  to  her  that  a  precipitate 
flight  would  have  been  equally  fruitless  and  impolitic. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

She  speaks  things  in  doubt, 
That  carry  but  half  sense  :  her  speech  is  nothing, 
Yet  the  unshaped  use  of  it  doth  move 
The  hearers  to  collection  ;  they  aim  at  it, 
And  botch  the  words  up  to  fit  their  own  thoughts. 

Hamlet. 

Like  the  digressive  poet  Ariosto,  I  find  myself  under  the 
necessity  of  connecting  the  branches  of  my  story,  by  taking 
up  the  adventures  of  another  of  the  characters,  and  bringing 
them  down  to  the  point  at  which  we  have  left  those  of  Jeanie 
Deans.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  the  most  artificial  way  of  telling  a 
story,  but  it  has  the  advantage  of  sparing  the  necessity  of  re- 
suming what  a  knitter  (if  stocking-looms  have  left  such  a  per- 
son in  the  land)  might  call  our  "  dropped  stitches" ;  a  labour 
in  which  the  author  generally  toils  much,  without  getting 
credit  for  his  pains. 

"  I  could  risk  a  sma'  wad, "  said  the  clerk  to  the  magistrate, 
"  that  this  rascal  Ratcliffe,  if  he  were  ensured  of  his  neck's 
safety,  could  do  more  than  ony  ten  of  our  police-people  and 
constables  to  help  us  to  get  out  of  this  scrape  of  Porteous's. 
He  is  weel  acquent  wi'  a'  the  smugglers,  thieves,  and  ban- 
ditti about  Edinburgh;  and,  indeed,  he  may  be  called  the 
father  of  ft?  the  misdoers  in  Scotland,  for  he  has  passed  amang 
them  for  these  twenty  years  by  the  name  of  Daddie  Rat." 

"  A  bdnny  sort  of  a  scoundrel, "  replied  the  magistrate,  "  to 
expect  a  place  under  the  city!" 

"  Begging  your  honour's  pardon,"  said  the  city's  procurator- 
fiscal,  upon  whom  the  duties  of  superintendent  of  police  de- 
volved, "Mr.  Fairscrieve  is  perfectly  in  the  right.  It  is  just 
sic  as  Ratcliffe  that  the  town  needs  in  my  department ;  an'  if 
sae  be  that  he's  disposed  to  turn  his  knowledge  to  the  city 


190 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


service,  ye'll  no  find  a  better  man.  Ye'll  get  nae  saints  to  be 
searchers  for  uncustomed  goods,  or  for  thieves  and  sic-like ; 
and  yolir  decent  sort  of  men,  religious  professors  and  broken 
tradesmen,  that  are  put  into  the  like  o'  sic  trust,  can  do  nae 
gude  ava.  Th<  are  feared  for  this,  and  they  are  scrupulous 
about  that,  and  they  are  nafree  to  tell  a  lie,  though  it  may  be 
for  the  benefit  of  the  city ;  and  they  dinna  like  to  be  out  at 
irregular  hours,  and  in  a  dark  cauld  night,  and  they  like  a 
clout  ower  the  croi.M  far  waur;  and  sae  between  the  fear  o' 
God,  and  the  fear  o'  man,  and  the  fear  o'  getting  a  sair  throat, 
or  sair  banes,  there's  a  dozen  o'  our  city-folk,  baith  waiters, 
and  officers,  and  constables,  that  can  find  out  naething  but  a 
wee  bit  sculduddery  for  the  benefit  of  the  kirk- treasurer. 
Jock  Porteous,  that's  stiff  and  stark,  puir  fallow,  was  worth 
a  dozen  o'  them ;  for  he  never  had  ony  fears,  or  scruples,  or 
doubts,  or  conscience,  about  ony  thing  your  honours  bade  him." 

"He  was  a  gude  servant  o'  the  town,"  said  the  bailie, 
"  though  he  was  an  ower  free-living  man.  But  if  you  really 
think  this  rascal  Ratcliffe  could  do  us  ony  service  in  discover- 
ing these  malefactors,  I  would  ensure  aim  life,  reward,  and 
promotion.  It's  an  awsome  thing  this  mischance  for  the  city, 
Mr.  Fairscrieve.  It  will  be  very  ill  taen  wi'  abune  stairs. 
Queen  Caroline,  God  bless  her !  is  a  woman — at  least  I  judge 
sae,  and  it's  nae  treason  to  speak  my  mind  sae  far — and  ye 
maybe  ken  as  weel  as  I  do,  for  ye  hae  a  housekeeper,  though 
ye  arena  a  married  man,  that  women  are  wilfu',  and  downa 
bide  a  slight.  And  it  will  sound  ill  in  her  ears  that  sic  a 
confused  mistake  suld  come  to  pass,  and  naebody  sae  muckle 
as  to  be  put  into  the  tolbooth  about  it. " 

"If  ye  thought  that,  sir,"  said  the  procurator -fise  1,  "we 
could  easily  clap  into  the  prison  a  few  blackguards  u  [  -  m  sus- 
picion. It  will  have  a  gude  active  look,  and  I  hae  aye  plenty 
on  my  list,  that  wadna  be  a  hair  the  waur  of  a  week  or  twa's 
imprisonment;  and  if  ye  thought  it  no  strictly  just,  ye  oould 
be  just  the  easier  wi'  them  the  neist  time  they  did  ony  vJiing 
to  deserve  it:  they  arena  the  sort  to  be  lang  o'  gieing  ye  an 
opportunity  to  clean  scores  wi'  them  on  that  account." 

"I  doubt  that  will  hardly  do  in  this  case,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw," 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


191 


returned  the  town-clerk ;  "  they'll  run  their  letters,1  and  loe 
adrift  again,  before  ye  ken  where  ye  are." 

"  I  will  speak  to  the  Lord  Provost, "  said  the  magistrate, 
"  about  Katcliffe's  business.  Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  you  will  go 
with  me  and  receive  instructions.  Something  may  be  made 
too  out  of  this  story  of  Butler's  and  his  unknown  gentleman. 
I  know  no  business  any  man  has  to  swagger  about  in  the 
King's  Park,  and  call  himself  the  devil,  to  the  terror  of  honest 
folks,  who  dinna  care  to  hear  mair  about  the  devil  than  is 
said  from  the  pulpit  on  the  Sabbath.  I  cannot  think  the 
preacher  himsell  wad  be  heading  the  mob,  though  the  time 
has  been  they  hae  been  as  forward  in  a  bruilzie  as  their 
neighbours." 

"But  these  times  are  lang  bye,"  said  Mr.  Sharpitlaw.  "In 
my  father's  time  there  was  mair  search  for  silenced  ministers 
about  the  Bow-head  and  the  Covenant  Close,  and  all  the  tents 
of  Kedar,  as  they  ca'd  the  dwellings  o'  the  godly  in  those 
days,  than  there's  now  for  thieves  and  vagabonds  in  the  Laigh 
Calton  and  the  back  o'  the  Canongate.  But  that  time's  weel 
bye,  an  it  bide.  And  if  the  bailie  will  get  me  directions  and 
authority  from  the  provost,  I'll  speak  wi'  Daddie  Rat  mysell; 
for  I'm  thinking  I'll  make  mair  out  o'  him  than  ye'll  do." 

Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  being  necessarily  a  man  of  high  trust,  was 
accordingly  empowered,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  to  make  such 
arrangements  as  might  seem  in  the  emergency  most  advan- 
tageous for  the  Good  Town.  He  went  to  the  jail  accordingly, 
and  saw  Ratcliffe  in  private. 

The  relative  positions  of  a  police-officer  and  a  professed 
thief  bear  a  different  complexion  according  to  circumstances. 
The  most  obvious  simile  of  a  hawk  pouncing  upon  his  prey  is 
often  least  applicable.  Sometimes  the  guardian  of  justice  has 
the  air  of  a  cat  watching  a  mouse,  and,  while  he  suspends  his 
purpose  of  springing  upon  the  pilferer,  takes  care  so  to  calcu- 
late his  motions  that  he  shall  not  get  beyond  his  power. 
Sometimes,  more  passive  still,  he  uses  the  art  of  fascination 
ascribed  to  the  rattlesnake,  and  contents  himself  with  glaring 

1  A  Scottish  form  of  procedure,  answering,  in  some  respects,  to  the  Eng- 
lish Habeas  Corpus. 


192 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


on  i:he  victim  through  all  his  devious  flutterings ;  certain  that 
his  terror,  confusion,  and  disorder  of  ideas  will  bring  him  into 
his  jaws  afc  last.  The  interview  between  Eatcliffe  and  Sharp- 
itlaw  had  oil  aspect  different  from  all  these.  They  sate  for 
five  minutes  silent,  on  opposite  sides  of  a  small  table,  and  looked 
fixedly  at  each  other  with  a  sharp,  knowing,  and  alert  cast  of 
contenance,  not  unmn  'led  with  an  inclination  to  laugh,  and 
resembled  more  than  ai-  thing  else  two  dogs  who,  preparing 
for  a  game  at  romps,  £re  seen  to  couch  down  and  remain  in 
that  posture  for  a  little  time,  watching  each  other's  move- 
ments, and  waiting  which  shall  begin  the  game. 

"  So,  Mr.  Eatcliffe, "  said  the  officer,  conceiving  it  suited  his 
dignity  t6  speak  first,  "you  give  up  business,  I  find?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Eatcliffe;  "I  shall  be  on  that  lay  nae 
mair;  and  I  think  that  will  save  your  folk  some  trouble,  Mr. 
Sharpitlaw?" 

"  Which  Jock  Dalgleish  1  (then  finisher  of  the  law  in  the 
Scottish  metropolis)  wad  save  them  as  easily,"  returned  the 
procurator-fiscal. 

"Ay;  if  I  waited  in  the  tolbooth  here  to  have  him  fit  my 
cravat;  but  that's  an  idle  way  o'  speaking,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw." 

"  Why,  I  suppose  you  know  you  are  under  sentence  of  death, 
Mr.  Eatcliffe?"  replied  Mr.  Sharpitlaw. 

"Ay,  so  are  a',  as  that  worthy  minister  said  in  the  Tolbooth 
Kirk  the  day  Eobertson  wan  off;  but  naebody  kens  when  it 
will  be  executed.  Gude  faith,  he  had  better  reason  to  say  sae 
than  he  dreamed  of,  before  the  play  was  playc  '  ut  that 
morning!" 

"This  Eobertson,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  in  a  lower  and  some- 
thing like  a  confidential  tone,  "  d'ye  ken,  Eat — that  is,  can  ye 
gie  us  ony  inkling  where  he  is  to  be  heard  tell  o'?" 

"Troth,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  I'll  be  frank  wi'  ye:  Eobertson  is 
rather  a  cut  abune  me.  A  wild  deevil  he  was,  and  mony  a 
daft  prank  he  played;  but,  except  the  collector's  job  that 
Wilson  led  him  into,  and  some  tuilzies  about  run  goods  wV  the 
gaugers  and  the  waiters,  he  never  did  ony  thing  tftfi  b  came 
near  our  line  o'  business." 

1  See  Note  21. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


193 


"  Umph!  that's  singular,  considering  the  company  he  kept." 

"Fact,  upon  my  honour  and  credit,"  said  Eatcliffe,  gravely. 
"  He  keepit  out  o'  our  little  bits  of  affairs,  and  that's  main 
than  Wilson  did;  I  hae  dune  business  wi'  Wilson  afore  now. 
But  the  lad  will  come  on  in  time,  there's  nae  fear  o'  him; 
naebody  will  live  the  life  he  has  led  but  what  he'll  come  to 
sooner  or  later." 

"Who  or  what  is  he,  Eatcliffe?  you  know,  I  suppose?" 
said  Sharpitlaw. 

"He's  better  born,  I  judge,  than  he  cares  to  let  on;  he's 
been  a  soldier,  and  he  has  been  a  play-actor,  and  I  watna 
what  he  has  been  or  hasna  been,  for  as  young  as  he  is,  sae 
that  it  had  daffing  and  nonsense  about  it." 

"Pretty  pranks  he  has  played  in  his  time,  I  suppose?" 

"  Ye  may  say  that, "  said  Eatcliffe,  with  a  sardonic  smile ; 
"and  (touching  his  nose)  a  deevil  amang  the  lasses." 

"Like  enough,"  said  Sharpitlaw.  "  Weel,  Eatcliffe,  I'll  no 
stand  niffering  wi'  ye:  ye  ken  the  way  that  favour's  gotten  in 
my  office;  ye  maun  be  usefu'." 

"  Certainly,  sir,  to  the  best  of  my  power :  naething  for  nae- 
thing — I  ken  the  rule  of  the  office, "  said  the  ex-depredator. 

"  Now  the  principal  thing  in  hand  e'en  now,"  said  the  official 
person,  "is  this  job  of  Porteous's.  An  ye  can  gie  us  a  lift — 
why,  the  inner  turnkey's  office  to  begin  wi',  and  the  captain- 
ship in  time;  ye  understand  my  meaning?" 

"Ay,  troth  do  I,  sir;  a  wink's  as  gude  as  a  nod  to  a  blind 
horse.  But  Jock  Porteous's  job — Lord  help  ye ! — I  was  under 
sentence  the  haill  time.  God!  but  I  couldna  help  laughing 
when  I  heard  Jock  skirling  for  mercy  in  the  lads'  hands! 
'Mony  a  het  skin  ye  hae  gien  me,  neighbour,'  thought  I,  'tak 
ye  what's  gaun:  time  about's  fair  play;  ye'll  ken  now  what 
hanging's  gude  for.'  " 

"  Come,  come,  this  is  all  nonsense,  Rat, "  said  the  procura- 
tor. '"  Ye  canna  creep  out  at  that  hole,  lad ;  you  must  speak 
to  the  point,  you  understand  me,  if  you  want  favour ;  gif -gaf 
makes  gude  friends,  ye  ken." 

"  But  how  can  I  speak  to  the  point,  as  your  honour  ca's  it," 
said  Eatcliffe,  demurely,  and  with  an  air  of  great  simplicity, 
13 


194 


WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS. 


"  when  ye  ken  I  was  under  sentence,  and  in  the  strong-room 
a?  the  while  the  job  was  going  on?" 

"  And  how  can  we  turn  ye  loose  on  the  public  again,  Daddie 
Rat,  unless  ye  do  or  say  something  to  deserve  it?" 

"Well,  then,  d— n  it!"  answered  the  criminal,  ' '  since  it 
maun  be  sae,  I  sa\,  Geordie  Robertson  among  the  boys  that 
brake  the  jail;  I  supple  that  will  do  me  some  gude?" 

"That's  speaking  to  .he  purpose,  indeed,"  said  the  office- 
bearer; "  and  now,  Rat,  where  think  ye  we'll  find  him?" 

"Deil  haet  o'  me  kens."  said  Ratcliffe;  "he'll  no  likely 
gang  back  to  ony  o'  his  auld  howffs;  he'll  be  off  the  country 
by  this  time.  He  has  gude  friends  some  gate  or  other,  for  a' 
the  life  he's  led;  he's  been  weel  educate." 

"He'll  grace  the  gallows  the  better,"  said  Mr.  Sharpitlaw; 
"  a  desperate  dog,  to  murder  an  officer  of  the  city  for  doing 
his  duty!  wha  kens  wha's  turn  it  might  be  next?  But  you 
saw  him  plainly?" 

"  As  plainly  as  I  see  you. " 

"How  was  he  dressed?"  said  Sharpitlaw. 

"I  couldna  weel  see;  something  of  a  woman's  bit  mutch  on 
his  head;  but  ye  never  saw  sic  a  ca' -throw.  Ane  couldna  hae 
een  to  a' thing." 

"But  did  he  speak  to  no  one?"  said  Sharpitlaw. 

"  They  were  a'  speaking  and  gabbling  through  other, "  said 
Ratcliffe,  who  was  obviously  unwilling  to  carry  his  evidence 
farther  than  he  could  possibly  help. 

"  This  will  not  do,  Ratcliffe, "  said  the  procurator ;  "  you 
must  speak  out — out — out"  tapping  the  table  emphatically, 
as  he  repeated  that  impressive  monosyllable. 

"It's  very  hard,  sir,"  said  the  prisoner;  "and  but  for  the 
under  turnkey's  place  " 

"  And  the  reversion  of  the  captaincy — the  captaincy  of  the 
tolbooth,  man — that  is,  in  case  of  gude  behaviour." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "gude  behaviour!  there's  he 
deevil.  And  then  it's  waiting  for  dead  folks'  shoon  into  the 
bargain." 

"  But  Robertson's  head  will  weigh  something, "  said  Sharpit- 
law— "something  gay  and  heavy,  Rat;  the  town  maun  show, 


THE  HEAKT  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


195 


cause — that's  right  and  reason — and  then  ye' 11  hae  freedom 
to  enjoy  your  gear  honestly." 

"I  dinna  ken/'  said  Eatcliffe;  "it's  a  queer  way  of  be- 
ginning the  trade  of  honesty — but  deil  nia  care.  W eel,  then, 
I  heard  and  saw  him  speak  to  the  wench  Effie  Deans,  that's 
up  there  for  child  murder." 

"  The  deil  ye  did?  Eat,  this  is  finding  k  mare's  nest  wi' 
a  witness.  And  the  man  that  spoke  to  Butler  in  the  Park, 
and  that  was  to  meet  wi'  Jeanie  Deans  at  Muschat's  Cairn — 
whew!  lay  that  and  that  thegither!  As  sure  as  I  live  he's 
been  the  father  of  the  lassie's  wean." 

"There  hae  been  waur  guesses  than  that,  I'm  thinking," 
observed  Eatcliffe,  turning  his  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  cheek 
and  squirting  out  the  juice.  "  I  heard  something  a  while  syne 
about  his  drawing  up  wi'  a  bonny  quean  about  the  Pleasaunts, 
and  that  it  was  a'  Wilson  could  do  to  keep  him  frae  marry- 
ing her." 

Here  a  city  officer  entered,  and  told  Sharpitlaw  that  they 
had  the  woman  in  custody  whom  he  had  directed  them  to  bring 
before  him. 

"It's  little  matter  now,"  said  he,  "the  thing  is  taking  an- 
other turn;  however,  George,  ye  may  bring  her  in." 

The  officer  retired,  and  introduced,  upon  his  return,  a  tall, 
strapping  wench  of  eighteen  or  twenty,  dressed  fantastically, 
in  a  sort  of  blue  riding- jacket,  with  tarnished  lace,  her  hair 
clubbed  like  that  of  a  man,  a  Highland  bonnet,  and  a  bunch 
of  broken  feathers,  a  riding-skirt  (or  petticoat)  of  scarlet 
camlet,  embroidered  with  tarnished  flowers.  Her  features 
were  coarse  and  masculine,  yet  at  a  little  distance,  by  dint 
of  very  bright  wild-looking  black  eyes,  an  aquiline  nose,  and 
a  commanding  profile,  appeared  rather  handsome.  She  flour- 
ished the  switch  she  held  in  her  hand,  dropped  a  courtesy  as 
low  as  a  lady  at  a  birthnight  introduction,  recovered  herself 
seemingly  according  to  Touchstone's  directions  to  Audrey,  and 
opened  the  conversation  without  waiting  till  any  questions 
were  asked. 

"  God  gie  your  honour  gude  e'en,  and  mbny  o'  them,  bonny 
Mr.  Sharpitlaw!    Gude  e'en  to  ye,  Daddie  Eatton;  they 


196 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


tauld  me  ye  were  hanged,  man ;  or  did  ye  get  out  o'  John  Dal- 
gle:sh;s  hands  like  half-hangit  Maggie  Dickson!" 

"Whisht,  ye  daft  jaud,"  said  Batcliffe,  "and  hear  what's 
said  to  ye. " 

"  Wi'a  my  heart,  Eatton.  Great  preferment  for  poor  Madge 
to  be  brought  up  ihe  street  wi'  a  grand  man,  wi'  a  coat  a'  pas- 
semented  wi'  worset-lace,  to  speak  wi'  provosts,  and  bailies, 
and  town-clerks,  and  prokitors,  at  this  time  o'  day;  and  the 
haill  town  looking  at  me  too.  This  is  honour  on  earth  for 
anes ! " 

"  Ay,  Madge, "  said  Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  in  a  coaxing  tone ;  "  and 
ye're  dressed  out  in  your  braws,  I  see;  these  are  not  your 
every- days'  claiths  ye  have  on?" 

"Deil  be  in  my  fingers,  then!"  said  Madge.  "Eh,  sirs! 
(observing  Butler  come  into  the  apartment),  there's  a  minister 
in  the  tolbooth;  wha  will  ca7  it  a  graceless  place  now?  I'se 
warrant  he's  in  for  the  gude  auld  cause;  but  it's  be  nae  cause 
o'  mine,"  and  off  she  went  into  a  song: 

"  Hey  for  cavaliers,  ho  for  cavaliers, 
Dub  a  dub,  dub  a  dub  ; 
Have  at  old  Beelzebub, — 
Oliver's  squeaking  for  fear." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  that  madwoman  before?"  said  Sharpitlaw 
to  Butler. 

"Not  to  my  knowledge,  sir,"  replied  Butler. 

"I  thought  as  much,"  said  the  procurator-fiscal,  looking 
towards  Katcliffe,  who  answered  his  glance  with  a  nod  of 
acquiescence  and  intelligence. 

"  But  that  is  Madge  Wildfire,  as  she  calls  herself, "  said  the 
man  of  law  to  Butler. 

"  Ay,  that  I  am, "  said  Madge,  "  and  that  T  have  been  ever 
since  I  was  something  better — heigh  ho !  (and  something  like 
melancholy  dwelt  on  her  features  for  a  minute) .  But  I  canna 
mind  when  that  was ;  it  was  lang  syne,  at  ony  rate,  and  I'll 
ne'er  fash  my  thumb  about  it: 

I  glance  like  the  wildfire  through  country  and  town ; 
I'm  een  on  the  causeway — I'm  seen  on  the  down  ; 
The  lightning  that  flashes  so  bright  and  so  free, 
Is  scarcely  so  blithe  or  so  bonny  as  me." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


197 


"Haud  your  tongue,  ye  skirling  limmer!"  said  the  officei 
who  had  acted  as  master  of  the  ceremonies  to  this  extraordi- 
nary performer,  and  who  was  rather  scandalised  at  the  free- 
dom of  her  demeanour  before  a  person  of  Mr.  Sharpitlaw' s 
importance — "  haud  your  tongue,  or  I'se  gie  ye  something  to 
skirl  for!" 

"  Let  her  alone,  George, "  said  Sharpitlaw,  "  dinna  put  her 
out  o'  tune ;  I  hae  some  questions  to  ask  her.  But  first,  Mr. 
Butler,  take  another  look  of  her." 

"  Do  sae,  minister — do  sae, "  cried  Madge ;  "  I  am  as  weel 
worth  looking  at  as  ony  book  in  your  aught.  And  I  can  say 
the  Single#Carritch,  and  the  Double  Carritch,  and  justification, 
and  effectual  calling,  and  the  Assembly  of  Divines  at  West- 
minster— that  is,"  she  added  in  a  low  tone,  "I  could  say 
them  anes;  but  it's  lang  syne,  and  ane  forgets,  ye  ken."  And 
poor  Madge  heaved  another  deep  sigh. 

"Weel,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Sharpitlaw  to  Butler,  "what  think 
ye  now?" 

"  As  I  did  before, "  said  Butler ;  "  that  I  never  saw  the  poor 
demented  creature  in  my  life  before." 

"  Then  she  is  not  the  person  whom  you  said  the  rioters  last 
night  described  as  Madge  Wildfire?" 

"  Certainly  not, "  said  Butler.  "  They  may  be  near  the  same 
height,  for  they  are  both  tall;  but  I  see  little  other  resem- 
blance." 

"Their  dress,  then,  is  not  alike?"  said  Sharpitlaw. 
"  Not  in  the  least, "  said  Butler. 

"  Madge,  my  bonny  woman, "  said  Sharpitlaw,  in  the  same 
coaxing  manner,  "what  did  ye  do  wi'  your  ilka-day's  claise 
yesterday?" 

"  I  dinna  mind, "  said  Madge. 

"Where  was  ye  yesterday  at  e'en,  Madge?" 

"  I  dinna  mind  ony  thing  about  yesterday, "  answered  Madge ; 
"  ae  day  is  eneugh  for  ony  body  to  wun  ower  wi'  at  a  time,  and 
ower  muckle  sometimes." 

"  But  maybe,  Madge,  ye  wad  mind  something  about  it  if  I 
was  to  gie  ye  this  half-crown?"  said  Sharpitlaw,  taking  out 
the  piece  of  money. 


198 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  That  might  gar  me  laugh,  but  it  couldna  gar  me  mind." 
gut,  Madge,"  continued  Sharpitlaw,  "were  I  to  send  you 
to  t'ie  warkhouse  in  Leith  Wynd,  and  gar  Jock  Dalgleish  lay 
the  tawse  on  your  back  " 

"That  wad  gar  me  greet,"  said  Madge,  sobbing,  "but  it 
cauldna  gar  me  mind,  ye  ken." 

"She  is  ower  far  r>ast  reasonable  folks'  motives,  sir,"  said 
Ratcliff e,  "  to  mi/;  xr,  or  John  Dalgleish,  or  the  cat  and 
nine  tails  either;  L»  '  x  ihink  I  could  gar  her  tell  us  some- 
thing." 

"Try  her  then,  Ratcliffe,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  "for  I  am  tired 
of  her  crazy  prate,  and  be  d — d  to  her. " 

"Madge,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "hae  ye  ony  joes  now?" 

"  An  ony  body  ask  ye,  say  ye  dinna  ken.  Set  him  to  be 
speaking  of  my  joes,  auld  Daddie  Ratton!" 

"  I  dare  say  ye  hae  deil  ane?" 

"See  if  I  haena  then,"  said  Madge,  with  the  toss  of  the 
head  of  affronted  beauty;  "there's  Rob  the  Ranter,  and  Will 
Fleming,  and  then  there's  Geordie  Robertson,  lad — that's 
Gentleman  Geordie;  what  think  ye  o'  that?" 

Ratcliffe  laughed,  and,  winking  to  the  procurator-fiscal, 
pursued  the  inquiry  in  his  own  way.  "  But,  Madge,  the  lads 
only  like  ye  when  ye  hae  on  your  braws ;  they  wadna  touch 
you  wi'  a  pair  o'  tangs  when  you  are  in  your  auld  ilka-day 
rags." 

"Ye're  a  leeing  auld  sorrow  then,"  replied  the  fair  one; 
"for  Gentle  Geordie  Robertson  put  my  ilka-day's  claise  on  his 
ain  bonny  sell  yestreen,  and  gaed  a'  through  th  3  town  wi' 
them;  and  gawsie  and  grand  he  lookit,  like  ony  queen  in  the 
land." 

"  I  dinna  believe  a  word  o't, "  said  Ratcliffe,  with  another 
wink  to  the  procurator.  "  Thae  duds  were  a'  o'  the  colour  o' 
moonshine  in  the  water,  I'm  thinking,  Madge.  The  gown 
wad  be  a  sky-blue  scarlet,  I'se  warrant  ye?" 

"It  was  nae  sic  thing,"  said  Madge,  whose  unretentive 
memory  let  out,  in  the  eagerness  of  contradiction,  all  that  she 
would  have  most  wished  to  keep  concealed,  had  her  judgn  ent 
been  equal  to  her  inclination.    "It  was  neither  scarlet  nor 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


199 


sky-blue,  but  my  ain  auld  brown  thresh  ie-coat  of  a  short- 
gown,  and  my  mother's  auld  mutch,  and  my  red  rokelay;  and 
he  gaed  me  a  croun  and  a  kiss  for  the  use  o'  them,  blessing 
on  his  bonny  face— though  it's  been  a  dear  ane  to  me.'v 

"And  where  did  he  change  his  clothes  again,  ninny?"  said 
Sharpitlaw,  in  his  most  conciliatory  manner. 

"The  procurator's  spoiled  a\"  observed  Ratcliffe,  dryly. 

And  it  was  even  so ;  for  the  question,  put  in  so  direct  a 
shape,  immediately  awakened  Madge  to  the  propriety  of  being 
reserved  upon  those  very  topics  on  which  Ratcliffe  had  indi- 
rectly seduced  her  to  become  communicative. 

"What  was't  ye  were  speering  at  us,  sir?"  she  resumed, 
with  an  appearance  of  stolidity,  so  speedily  assumed  as  showed 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  knavery  mixed  with  her  folly. 

"  I  asked  you, "  said  the  procurator,  "  at  what  hour,  and  to 
what  place,  Robertson  brought  back  your  clothes." 

"Robertson!    Lord  haud  a  care  o'  us!  what  Robertson?" 

"Why,  the  fellow  we  were  speaking  of,  Gentle  Geordie,  as 
you  call  him." 

"  Geordie  Gentle  I"  answered  Madge,  with  well-feigned 
amazement.    "  I  dinna  ken  naebody  they  ca'  Geordie  Gentle." 

"Come,  my  jo,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  "this  will  not  do;  you 
must  tell  us  what  you  did  with  these  clothes  of  yours. " 

Madge  Wildfire  made  no  answer,  unless  the  question  may 
seem  connected  with  the  snatch  of  a  song  with  which  she 
indulged  the  embarrassed  investigator : 

"What  did  ye  wi'  the  bridal  ring — bridal  ring — bridal  ring? 
What  did  ye  wi'  your  wedding  ring,  ye  little  cutty  quean,  0? 
I  gied  it  till  a  sodger,  a  sodger,  a  sodger, 
I  gied  it  till  a  sodger,  an  auld  true  love  o'  mine,  O." 

Of  all  the  madwomen  who  have  sung  and  said,  since  the 
days  of  Hamlet  the  Dane,  if  Ophelia  be  the  most  affecting, 
Madge  Wildfire  was  the  most  provoking. 

The  procurator-fiscal  was  in  despair.  "  I'll  take  some  meas- 
ures with  this  d — d  Bess  of  Bedlam,"  said  he,  "that  shall 
make  her  find  her  tongue." 

"  Wi'  your  favour,  sir, "  said  Ratcliffe,  "  better  let  her  mind 
settle  a  little.    Ye  have  aye  made  out  something." 


200 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"True,"  said  the  official  person;  "a  brown  short-gown, 
naiitchj  red  rokelay — that  agrees  with  your  Madge  Wildfire, 
Mr.  Butler?"  Butler  agreed  that  it  did  so.  "  Yes,  there  was 
a  sufficient  motive  for  taking  this  crazy  creature's  dress  and 
name,  while  he  was  about  such  a  job." 

"And  I  am  free  to  say  now"  said  Ratcliffe  " 

"  When  you  sec  it  has  come  out  without  you, "  interrupted 
Sharpitlaw. 

a  Just  sae,  sir/'  reiterated  Ratcliffe.  "I  am  free  to  say 
now,  since  it's  come  out  otherwise,  that  these  were  the  clothes 
I  saw  Robertson  wearing  last  night  in  the  jail,  when  he  was 
at  the  head  of  the  rioters. " 

" That's  direct  evidence,"  said  Sharpitlaw;  " stick  to  that, 
Rat.  I  will  report  favourably  of  you  to  the  provost,  for  I  have 
business  for  you  to-night.  It  wears  late;  I  must  home  and 
get  a  snack,  and  I'll  be  back  in  the  evening.  Keep  Madge 
with  you,  Ratcliffe,  and  try  to  get  her  into  a  good  tune  again," 
So  saying,  he  left  the  prison. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

And  some  they  whistled,  and  some  they  sang 

And  some  did  loudly  say, 
Whenever  Lord  Barnard's  horn  it  blew, 

44  Away,  Musgrave,  away  !  " 

Ballad  of  Little  Musgrave. 

When  the  man  of  office  returned  to  the  Heart  of  Midlothian, 
he  resumed  his  conference  with  Ratcliffe,  of  whose  experience 
and  assistance  he  now  held  himself  secure.  "  You  1  rust  speak 
with  this  wench,  Rat — this  Effie  Deans — you  musi  sift  her  a 
wee  bit;  for  as  sure  as  a  tether  she  will  ken  Robertson's 
haunts;  till  her,  Rat — till  her,  without  delay." 

"  Craving  your  pardon,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw, "  said  t  le  turnkey 
elect,  "that's  what  I  am  not  free  to  do." 

"Free  to  do,  man!  what  the  deil  ails  ye  now?  I  Jiought 
we  had  settled  a'  that." 

"I  dinna  ken,  sir,"  said  Ratcliffe;  "I  hae  spoken  to  this 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


201 


Effie.  She's  strange  to  this  place  and  to  its  ways,  and  to  a' 
our  ways,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw ;  and  she  greets,  the  silly  tawpie,, 
and  she's  breaking  her  heart  already  about  this  wild  chfeld; 
and  were  she  the  means  o'  taking  him,  she  wad  break  it  out- 
right." 

"She  wunna  hae  time,  lad,"  said  Sharpitlaw:  "the  woodie 
will  hae  its  ain  o'  her  before  that;  a  woman's  heart  takes  a 
lang  time  o'  breaking." 

"That's  according  to  the  stuff  they  are  made  o',  sir,"  re- 
plied Eatcliffe.  "  But  to  make  a  lang  tale  short,  I  canna  un- 
dertake the  job.    It  gangs  against  my  conscience." 

"  Your  conscience,  Eat!"  said  Sharpitlaw,  with  a  sneer, 
which  the  reader  will  probably  think  very  natural  upon  the 
occasion. 

"Ou  ay,  sir,"  answered  Eatcliffe,  calmly,  "just  my  con- 
science; a' body  has  a  conscience,  though  it  may  be  ill  wunnin 
at  it.  1  think  mine's  as  weel  out  o'  the  gate  as  maist  folks' 
are;  and  yet  it's  just  like  the  noop  of  my  elbow:  it  whiles 
gets  a  bit  dirl  on  a  corner." 

"Weel,  Eat,"  replied  Sharpitlaw,  "since  ye  are  nice,  I'll 
speak  to  the  hussy  my  sell." 

Sharpitlaw  accordingly  caused  himself  to  be  introduced  into 
the  little  dark  apartment  tenanted  by  the  unfortunate  Effie 
Deans.  The  poor  girl  was  seated  on  her  little  flock-bed, 
plunged  in  a  deep  reverie.  Some  food  stood  on  the  table,  of 
a  quality  better  than  is  usually  supplied  to  prisoners,  but  it 
was  untouched.  The  person  under  whose  care  she  was  more 
particularly  placed  said,  "  that  sometimes  she  tasted  naething 
from  the  tae  end  of  the  four  and  twenty  hours  to  the  tother, 
except  a  drink  of  water." 

Sharpitlaw  took  a  chair,  and,  commanding  the  turnkey  to 
retire,  he  opened  the  conversation,  endeavouring  to  throw  into 
his  tone  and  countenance  as  much  commiseration  as  they  were 
capable  of  expressing,  for  the  one  was  sharp  and  harsh,  the 
other  sly,  acute,  and  selfish. 

"How's  a'  wi'  ye,  Effie?    How  d'ye  find  yoursell,  hinny?" 

A  deep  sigh  was  the  only  answer. 

"  Are  the  folk  civil  to  ye,  Effie?  it's  my  duty  to  inquire." 


202 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Very  civil,  sir, "  said  Effie,  compelling  herself  to  answer, 
yet  hardly  knowing  what  she  said. 

And  your  victuals,"  continued  Sharpitlaw,  in  the  same 
condoling  tone — "  do  you  get  what  you  like?  or  is  there  ony 
thing  you  would  particularly  fancy,  as  your  health  seems  but 
silly?" 

"  It's  a'  very  weel,  sir,  I  thank  ye,"  said  the  poor  prisoner, 
in  a  tone  how  different  from  the  sportive  vivacity  of  those  of 
the  Lily  of  St.  Leonard's! — "it's  a'  very  gude,  ower  gude 
for  me." 

"  He  must  have  been  a  g  -eat  villain,  Effie,  who  brought  you 
to  this  pass,"  said  Sharpitlaw. 

The  remark  was  dictated  partly  by  a  natural  feeling,  of 
which  even  he  could  not  divest  himself,  though  accustomed  to 
practise  on  the  passions  of  others,  and  keep  a  most  heedful 
guard  over  his  own,  and  partly  by  his  wish  to  introduce  the 
sort  of  conversation  which  might  best  serve  his  immediate 
purpose.  Indeed,  upon  the  present  occasion  these  mixed 
motives  of  feeling  and  cunning  harmonised  together  wonder- 
fully; "for,"  said  Sharpitlaw  to  himself,  "the  greater  rogue 
Robertson  is,  the  more  will  be  the  merit  of  bringing  him  to  jus- 
tice." "He  must  have  been  a  great  villain,  indeed,"  he  again 
reiterated;  "and  I  wish  I  had  the  skelping  o'  him." 

"  I  may  blame  mysell  mair  than  him, "  said  Effie.  "  I  was 
bred  up  to  ken  better ;  but  he,  poor  fellow  she  stopped. 

"  Was  a  thorough  blackguard  a'  his  life,  I  dare  say, "  said 
Sharpitlaw.  "  A  stranger  he  was  in  this  country,  and  a  com- 
panion of  that  lawless  vagabond,  Wilson,  I  think,  Effie?" 

"  It  wad  hae  been  dearly  telling  him  that  he  had  ne'er  seen 
Wilson's  face." 

"That's  very  true  that  you  are  saying,  Effie,"  said  Sharpit- 
law. "Where  was't  that  Robertson  and  you  were  used  to 
howff  thegither?  Somegate  about  the  Laigh  Carton,  I  am 
thinking. " 

The  simple  and  dispirited  girl  had  thus  far  followed  Mr. 
Sharpitlaw 's  lead,  because  he  had  artfully  adjusted  his  obser- 
vations to  the  thoughts  he  was  pretty  certain  must  b^  oassing 
through  her  own  mind,  so  that  her  answers  became  a  kind  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


203 


thinking  aloud,  a  mood  into  which  those  who  are  either  coiu 
stitutionally  absent  in  mind,  or  are  rendered  so  by  the  tem- 
porary pressure  of  misfortune,  may  be  easily  led  by  a  skilful 
train  of  suggestions.  But  the  last  observation  of  the  procura- 
tor-fiscal was  too  much  of  the  nature  of  a  direct  interrogatory, 
and  it  broke  the  charm  accordingly. 

a  What  was  it  that  I  was  saying?"  said  Effie,  starting  up 
from  her  reclining  posture,  seating  herself  upright,  and  hastily 
shading  her  dishevelled  hair  back  from  her  wasted,  but  still 
beautiful,  countenance.  She  fixed  her  eyes  boldly  and  keenly 
upon  Sharpitlaw :  ".You  are  too  much  of  a  gentleman,  sir — 
too  much  of  an  honest  man,  to  take  any  notice  of  what  a  poor 
creature  like  me  says,  that  can  hardly  ca'  my  senses  my  ain — 
God  help  me!" 

"Advantage!  I  would  be  of  some  advantage  to  you  if  I 
could, "  said  Sharpitlaw,  in  a  soothing  tone ;  "  and  I  ken  nae- 
thing  sae  likely  to  serve  ye,  Effie,  as  gripping  this  rascal, 
Robertson." 

"  Oh  dinna  misca'  him,  sir,  that  never  misca'd  you !  Robert- 
son !  I  am  sure  I  had  naething  to  say  against  ony  man  o'  the 
name,  and  naething  will  I  say." 

"  But  if  you  do  not  heed  your  own  misfortune,  Effie,  you 
should  mind  what  distress  he  has  brought  on  your  family, " 
said  the  man  of  law. 

"Oh,  Heaven  help  me!"  exclaimed  poor  Effie.  "My  poor 
father — my  dear  Jeanie!  Oh,  that's  sairest  to  bide  of  a' ! 
Oh,  sir,  if  you  hae  ony  kindness — if  ye  hae  ony  touch  of  com- 
passion— for  a'  the  folk  I  see  here  are  as  hard  as  the  wa'- 
stanes — if  ye  wad  but  bid  them  let  my  sister  Jeanie  in  the  next 
time  she  ca's !  for  when  I  hear  them  put  her  awa  f rae  the 
door,  and  eanna  climb  up  to  that  high  window  to  see  sae 
muckle  as  her  gown-tail,  it's  like  to  pit  me  out  o'  my  judg- 
ment." And  she  looked  on  him  with  a  face  of  entreaty  so 
earnest,  yet  so  humble,  that  she  fairly  shook  the  steadfast 
purpose  of  his  mind. 

"  You  shall  see  your  sister,"  he  began,  "  if  you'll  tell  me" — 
then  interrupting  himself,  he  added,  in  a  more  hurried  tone : 
"  no,  d — ri  it,  you  shall  see  your  sister  whether  you  tell  me 


204 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


anything  or  no."  So  saying,  he  rose  up  and  left  the  apart- 
ment. 

When  he  had  rejoined  Eatcliffe,  he  observed:  "You  are 
right,  Ratton;  there's  no  making  much  of  that  lassie.  But 
ae  thing  I  have  cleared — that  is,  that  Eobertson  has  been  the 
father  of  the  bairn,  and  so  I  will  wager  a  boddle  it  will  be  he 
that's  to  meet  wi'  Jeanie  Deans  this  night  at  Muschat's  Cairn, 
and  there  we'll  naii  him,  Eat,  or  my  name  is  not  Gideon 
Sharpitlaw. " 

"But,"  said  Eatcliffe.  perhaps  because  he  was  in  no  hurry 
to  see  anything  which  was  like  to  be  connected  with  the  dis- 
covery and  apprehension  of  Eobertson,  "  an  that  were  the  case, 
Mr.  Butler  wad  hae  kenn'd  the  man  in  the  King's  Park  to  be 
the  same  person  wi'  him  in  Madge  Wildfire's  claise,  that 
headed  the  mob. " 

"That  makes  nae  difference,  m;  n,"  replied  Sharpitlaw. 
"  The  dress,  the  light,  the  confusion,  and  maybe  a  touch  o'  a 
blackit  cork,  or  a  slake  o'  paint — hout,  Eatton,  I  have  seen  ye 
dress  your  ainsell  that  the  deevil  ye  belang  to  durstna  hae 
made  oath  t'ye." 

"And  that's  true,  too,"  said  Eatcliffe. 

"And  besides,  ye  donnard  carle,"  continued  Sharpitlaw,  tri- 
umphantly, "  the  minister  did  say,  that  he  thought  he  knew 
something  of  the  features  of  the  birkie  that  spoke  to  him  in 
the  Park,  though  he  could  not  charge  his  memory  where  or 
when  he  had  seen  them." 

"It's  evident,  then,  your  honour  will  be  rig'it,1'  said  Eat- 
cliffe. 

"  Then,  Eat,  you  and  I  will  go  with  the  party  oursells  this 
night,  and  see  him  in  grips,  or  we  are  done  wi'  him." 

"I  seena  muckle  use  I  can  be  o'  to  your  honour,"  said 
Eatcliffe,  reluctantly. 

"Use!"  answered  Sharpitlaw.  "You  can  guide  the  party; 
you  ken  the  ground.  Besides,  I  do  not  intend  to  quit  sight  o' 
you,  my  good  friend,  till  I  have  him  in  hand. " 

"  Weel,  sir,"  said  Eatcliffe,  but  in  no  joyful  tone  of  acqui- 
escence, "ye  maun  hae  it  your  ain  way;  but  mind  he's  a 
desperate  man," 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


205 


"We  shall  have  that  with  us,"  answered  Sharpitlaw,  "that 
will  settle  him,  if  it  is  necessary." 

"  But,  sir, "  answered  Ratcliffe,  "  I  am  sure  I  couldna  un- 
dertake to  guide  you  to  Muschat's  Cairn  in  the  night-time;  I 
ken  the  place,  as  mony  does,  in  fair  daylight,  but  how  to  find 
it  by  moonshine,  amang  sae  mony  crags  and  stanes,  as  like  to 
each  other  as  the  collier  to  the  deil,  is  mair  than  I  can  tell. 
I  might  as  soon  seek  moonshine  in  water." 

"  What's  the  meaning  o'  this,  Ratcliffe?"  said  Sharpitlaw, 
while  he  fixed  his  eye  on  the  recusant,  with  a  fatal  and  omi- 
nous expression.  "  Have  you  forgotten  that  you  are  still  un- 
der sentence  of  death?" 

"Xo,  sir,"  said  RatclifTe,  "  that's  a  thing  no  easily  put  out 
o'  memory;  and  if  my  presence  be  judged  necessary,  nae  doubt 
I  maun  gang  wi'  your  honour.  But  I  was  gaun  to  tell  your 
honour  of  ane  that  has  mair  skeel  o'  the  gate  than  me,  and 
that's  e'en  Madge  Wildfire." 

"  The  devil  she  has !  Do  you  think  me  as  mad  as  she  is,  to 
trust  to  her  guidance  on  such  an  occasion?" 

"Your  honour  is  the  best  judge,"  answered  Ratcliffe;  "but 
I  ken  I  can  keep  her  in  tune,  and  gar  her  haud  the  straight 
path;  she  aften  sleeps  out,  or  rambles  about  amang  thae  hills 
the  haill  simmer  night,  the  daft  limmer." 

"Well,  RatclifTe,"  replied  the  procurator-fiscal,  "if  you 
think  she  can  guide  us  the  right  way ;  but  take  heed  to  what 
you  are  about,  your  life  depends  on  your  behaviour." 

"  It's  a  sair  judgment  on  a  man,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "when  he 
has  ance  gane  sae  far  wrang  as  I  hae  done,  that  deil  a  bit  he 
can  be  honest,  try't  whilk  way  he  will." 

Such  was  the  reflection  of  Ratcliffe,  when  he  was  left  for  a 
few  minutes  to  himself,  while  the  retainer  of  justice  went  to 
procure  a  proper  warrant,  and  give  the  necessary  directions. 

The  rising  moon  saw  the  whole  party  free  from  the  walls  of 
the  city.,  and  entering  upon  the  open  ground.  Arthur's  Seat, 
like  a  ^ouchant  lion  of  immense  size,  Salisbury  Crags,  like 
a  hage  belt  or  girdle  of  granite,  were  dimly  visible.  Holding 
their  path  along  the  southern  side  of  the  Canongate,  they 
gained  the  Abbey  of  Holyrood  House,  and  from  thence  found 


206 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


their  way  by  step  and  stile  into  the  King's  Park.  They  were 
at  first  four  in  number — an  officer  of  justice  and  Sharpitlaw, 
who  were  well  armed  with  pistols  and  cutlasses ;  Batcliffe,  who 
was  not  trusted  with  weapons,  lest  he  might,  per  adventure, 
have  used  them  on  the  wrong  side ;  and  the  female.  But  at 
the  last  stile,  when  they  entered  the  chase,  they  were  joined 
by  other  two  officers,  whom  Sharpitlaw,  desirous  to  secure 
sufficient  force  for  his  purpose,  and  at  the  same  time  to  avoid 
observation,  had  directt  d  to  wait  for  him  at  this  place.  Bat- 
cliffe saw  this  accession  of  strength  with  some  disquietude, 
for  he  had  hitherto  thought  it  likely  that  Bobertson,  who  was 
a  bold,  stout,  and  active  young  fellow,  might  have  made  his 
escape  from  Sharpitlaw  and  the  single  officer,  by  force  or  agil- 
ity, without  his  being  implicated  in  the  matter.  But  the  pres- 
ent strength  of  the  followers  of  justice  was  overpowering,  and 
the  only  mode  of  saving  Bobertson,  which  the  old  sinner  was 
well  disposed  to  do,  providing  always  he  could  accomplish  his 
purpose  without  compromising  his  own  safety,  must  be  by 
contriving  that  he  should  have  some  signal  of  their  approach. 
It  was  probably  with  this  view  that  Batcliffe  had  requested 
the  addition  of  Madge  to  the  party,  having  considerable  confi- 
dence in  her  propensity  to  exert  her  lungs.  Indeeed,  she  had 
already  given  them  so  many  specimens  of  her  clamorous  lo- 
quacity, that  Sharpitlaw  half  determined  to  send  her  back  with 
one  of  the  officers,  rather  than  carry  forward  in  his  company 
a  person  so  extremely  ill  qualified  to  be  a  guide  in  a  secret 
expedition.  It  seemed,  too,  as  if  the  open  air,  the  approach 
to  the  hills,  and  the  ascent  of  the  moon,  supposed  to  be  so  por- 
tentous over  those  whose  brain  is  infirm,  made  her  spirits  rise 
in  a  degree  tenfold  more  loquacious  than  she  had  hitherto  ex- 
hibited. To  silence  her  by  fair  means  seemed  11  possible; 
authoritative  commands  and  coaxing  entreaties  she  set  alike 
at  defiance;  and  threats  only  made  her  sulky,  and  altogether 
intractable. 

"  Is  there  no  one  of  you, "  said  Sharpitlaw,  impatiently, 
"  that  knows  the  way  to  this  accursed  place — this  Mcol  Mus- 
chat's  Cairn — excepting  this  mad  claveiing  idiot?" 

"Deil  ane  o'  them  kens  it,  except  mysell,"  exclaimed 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


207 


Madge;  "how  suld  they,  the  poor  fule  cowards?  But  I  hae 
sat  on  the  grave  frae  bat-fleeing  time  till  cock-crow,  and  had 
mony  a  fine  crack  wi'  Nicol  Muschat  and  Ailie  Muschat,  that 
are  lying  sleeping  below." 

"  The  devil  take  your  crazy  brain, "  said  Sharpitlaw ;  "  will 
you  not  allow  the  men  to  answer  a  question?" 

The  officers,  obtaining  a  moment's  audience  while  Batcliffe 
diverted  Madge's  attention,  declared  that,  though  they  had  a 
general  knowledge  of  the  spot,  they  could  not  undertake  to 
guide  the  party  to  it  by  the  uncertain  light  of  the  moon,  with 
such  accuracy  as  to  ensure  success  to  their  expedition. 

"What  shall  we  do,  Batcliffe?"  said  Sharpitlaw.  "If  he 
sees  us  before  we  see  him — and  that's  what  he  is  certain  to  do, 
if  we  go  strolling  about,  without  keeping  the  straight  road — 
we  may  bid  gude  day  to  the  job;  and  I  wad  rather  lose  one 
hundred  pounds,  baith  for  the  credit  of  the  police,  and  because 
the  Provost  says  somebody  maun  be  hanged  for  this  job  o' 
Porteous,  come  o't  what  likes." 

"  I  think, "  said  Batcliffe,  "  we  maun  just  try  Madge ;  and 
I'll  see  if  I  can  get  her  keepit  in  ony  better  order.  And  at 
ony  rate,  if  he  suld  hear  her  skirling  her  auld  ends  o'  sangs, 
he's  no  to  ken  for  that  that  there's  ony  body  wi'  her." 

"That's  true,"  said  Sharpitlaw;  "and  if  he  thinks  her 
alone  he's  as  like  to  come  towards  her  as  to  rin  frae  her.  So 
set  forward,  we  nae  lost  ower  muckle  time  already ;  see  to  get 
her  to  keep  the  right  road." 

"  And  what  sort  o'  house  does  Nicol  Muschat  and  his  wife 
keep  now?"  said  Batcliffe  to  the  madwoman,  by  way  of  hu- 
mouring her  vein  of  folly ;  "  they  were  but  thrawn  folk  lang 
syne,  an  a'  tales  be  true." 

"Ou,  ay,  ay,  ay;  but  a's  forgotten  now,"  replied  Madge, 
in  the  confidential  tone  of  a  gossip  giving  the  history  of  her 
next-door  neighbour.  "  Ye  see,  I  spoke  to  them  mysell,  and 
tauld  them  byganes  suld  be  byganes.  Her  throat's  sair  mis- 
guggled  and  mashackered  though;  she  wears  her  corpse- 
sheet  drawn  weel  up  to  hide  it,  but  that  canna  hinder  the 
bluid  seiping  through,  ye  ken.  I  wussed  her  to  wash  it  in  St. 
Anthony's  Well,  and  that  will  cleanse  if  ony  thing  can.  But 


208 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


they  say  bluid  never  bleaches  out  o'  linen  claith.  Deacon  San- 
ders's new  cleansing  draps  winna  do't;  I  tried  them  mysell 
on  a  bit  rag  we  hae  at  hame,  that  was  mailed  wi'  the  bluid  of 
a  bit  skirling  wean  that  was  hurt  some  gate,  but  out  it  winna 
come.  Weel,  ye'll  say  that's  queer;  but  I  will  bring  it  out  to 
St.  Anthony's  blessed  Well  some  braw  night  just  like  this, 
and  I'll  cry  up  Ailie  Muschat,  and  she  and  I  will  hae  a  grand 
bouking-washing,  and  bleach  our  claise  in  the  beams  of  the 
bonny  Lady  Moon,  that's  far  pleasanter  to  me  than  the  sun; 
the  sun's  ower  het,  and  ken  ye,  cummers,  my  brains  are  het 
eneugh  already.  But  the  moon,  and  the  dew,  and  the  night- 
wind,  they  are  just  like  a  caller  kail-blade  laid  on  my  brow ; 
and  whiles  I  think  the  moon  just  shines  on  purpose  to  pleasure 
me,  when  naebody  sees  her  but  mysell." 

This  raving  discourse  she  continued  with  prodigious  volu- 
bility, walking  on  at  a  great  pace,  and  dragging  Ratcliff  e  along 
with  her,  while  he  endeavoured,  in  appearance  at  least,  if  not 
in  reality,  to  induce  her  to  moderate  her  voice. 

All  at  once  she  stopped  short  upon  the  top  of  a  little  hillock, 
gazed  upward  fixedly,  and  said  not  one  word  for  the  space  of 
five  minutes.  "  What  the  devil  is  the  matter  with  her  now?" 
said  Sharpitlaw  to  Eatcliffe.  "  Can  you  not  get  her  for- 
ward?" 

"  Ye  maun  just  take  a  grain  o'  patience  wi'  her,  sir,"  said 
Eatcliffe.    "  She'll  no  gae  a  foot  faster  than  she  likes  hersell." 

"D — n  her,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  "I'll  take  care  she  has  her 
time  in  Bedlam  or  Bridewell,  or  both,  for  she's  both  mad  and 
mischievous." 

In  the  mean  while,  Madge,  who  had  looked  very  pensive 
when  she  first  stopped,  suddenly  burst  into  a  vehement  fit  of 
laughter,  then  paused  and  sighed  bitterly,  then  was  seized 
with  a  second  fit  of  laughter,  then,  fixing  her  eyes  on  the 
moon,  lifted  up  her  voice  and  sung : 

44  Good  even,  good  fair  moon,  good  even  to  thee  ; 
I  prithee,  dear  moon,  now  show  to  me 
The  form  and  the  features,  the  speech  and  degree, 
Of  the  man  that  true  lover  of  mine  shall  be. 

But  I  need  not  ask  that  of  the  bonny  Lady  Moon;  I  ken 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


209 


that  weel  eneugh  mysell — true-love  though  he  wasna.  But 
naebody  shall  say  that  I  ever  tauld  a  word  about  the  matter. 
But  whiles  I  wish  the  bairn  had  lived.  Weel,  God  guide  us, 
there's  a  heaven  aboon  us  a'  (here  she  sighed  bitterly),  and  a 
bonny  moon,  and  sterns  in  it  forbye"  (and  here  she  laughed 
once  more). 

"Are  we  to  stand  here  all  night?"  said  Sharpitlaw,  very 
impatiently.    "  Drag  her  forward. n 

"Ay,  sir,"  said  Ratcliff,  "if  we  kenn'd  whilk  way  to  drag 
her  that  would  settle  it  at  ance.  Come,  Madge,  hinny,"  ad- 
dressing her,  "  we'll  no  be  in  time  to  see  Nicol  and  his  wife 
unless  ye  show  us  the  road." 

"  In  troth  and  that  I  will,  Eatton, "  said  she,  seizing  him 
by  the  arm,  and  resuming  her  route  with  huge  strides,  con- 
sidering it  was  a  female  who  took  them.  "  And  I'll  tell  ye, 
Ratton,  blythe  will  Mcol  Muschat  be  to  see  ye,  for  he  says  he 
kens  weel  there  isna  sic  a  villain  out  o'  hell  as  ye  are,  and  he 
wad  be  ravished  to  hae  a  crack  wi'  you — like  to  like,  ye  ken — 
it's  a  proverb  never  fails;  and  ye  are  baith  a  pair  o'  the  dee- 
vil's  peats,  I  trow — hard  to  ken  whilk  deserves  the  hettest 
corner o'  his  ingle-side." 

Ratcliffe  was  conscience-struck,  and  could  not  forbear  mak- 
ing an  involuntary  protest  against  this  classification.  "  I  never 
shed  blood,"  he  replied. 

"  But  ye  hae  sauld  it,  Ratton — ye  hae  sauld  blood  mony  a 
time.  Folk  kill  wi'  the  tongue  as  weel  as  wi'  the  hand — wi' 
the  word  as  weel  as  wi'  the  gulley! — - 

It  is  the  bonny  butcher  lad, 

That  wears  the  sleeves  of  blue, 
He  sells  the  flesh  on  Saturday, 

On  Friday  that  he  slew." 

"And  what  is  that  I  am  doing  now?"  thought  Ratcliffe. 
"But  I'll  hae  nae  wyte  of  Robertson's  young  bluid,  if  I  can 
help  it."  Then  speaking  apart  to  Madge,  he  asked  her: 
"Whether  she  did  not  remember  ony  o'  her  auld  sangs?" 

"Mony  a  dainty  ane,"  said  Madge;  "and  blythely  can  I 
sing  them,  for  lightsome  sangs  make  merry  gate."    And  she 
sang : 
14 


210 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


'  When  the  glede's  in  the  blue  cloud, 
The  lavrock  lies  still ; 
When  the  hound's  in  the  green-wood, 
The  hind  keeps  the  hill." 

"  Silence  her  cursed  noise,  if  you  should  throttle  her, "  said 
Sharpitlaw ;  "  I  see  somebody  yonder.  Keep  close,  my  boys, 
and  creep  round  the  shoulder  of  the  height.  George  Poinder, 
stay  you  with  Ratcliffe  and  that  mad  yelling  bitch;  and  you 
other  two,  come  with  me  round  under  the  shadow  of  the 
brae. " 

And  he  crept  forward  with  the  stealthy  pace  of  an  Indian 
savage,  who  leads  his  band  to  surprise  an  unsuspecting  party 
of  some  hostile  tribe.  Ratcliffe  saw  them  glide  off,  avoiding 
the  moonlight,  and  keeping  as  much  in  the  shade  as  possible. 
" Robertson's  done  up,"  said  he  to  himself;  "thae  young  lads 
are  aye  sae  thoughtless.  What  deevil  could  he  hae  to  say  to 
Jeanie  Deans,  or  to  ony  woman  on  earth,  that  he  suld  gang 
awa'  and  get  his  neck  raxed  for  her?  And  this  mad  quean, 
after  cracking  like  a  pen-gun  and  skirling  like  a  pea-hen  for 
the  haill  night,  behoves  just  to  hae  hadden  her  tongue  when 
her  clavers  might  have  done  some  gude!  But  it's  aye  the 
way  wi'  women ;  if  they  ever  haud  their  tongues  ava,  ye  may 
swear  it' s  for  mischief.  I  wish  I  could  set  her  on  again  with- 
out this  blood-sucker  kenning  what  I  am  doing.  But  he's  as 
gleg  as  MacKeachan's  elshin,  that  ran  through  sax  plies  of 
bend-leather  and  half  an  inch  into  the  king's  heel." 

He  then  began  to  hum,  but  in  a  very  low  and  suppressed 
tone,  the  first  stanza  of  a  favourite  ballad  of  Wildfire's,  the 
words  of  which  bore  some  distant  analogy  with  the  situation 
of  Robertson,  trusting  that  the  power  of  association  would  not 
fail  to  bring  the  rest  to  her  mind : 

"  There's  a  bloodhound  ranging  Tinwald  wood, 
There's  harness  glancing  sheen  ; 
There's  a  maiden  sits  on  Tinwald  brae, 
And  she  sings  loud  between." 

Madge  had  no  sooner  received  the  catchword,  than  she  vin- 
dicated Ratcliffe' s  sagacity  by  setting  off  at  score  with  the 
song : 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


211 


"  O  sleep  ye  sound,  Sir  James,  she  said, 
When  ye  suld  rise  and  ride  ? 
There's  twenty  men,  wi'  bow  and  blade, 
Are  seeking  where  ye  hide." 

Through  Ratcliffe  was  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
spot  called  Muschat's  Cairn,  yet  his  eyes,  practised  like  those 
of  a  cat  to  penetrate  darkness,  could  mark  that  Robertson  had 
caught  the  alarm.  George  Poinder,  less  keen  of  sight  or  less 
attentive,  was  not  aware  of  his  flight  any  more  than  Sharpit 
law  and  his  assistants,  whose  view,  though  they  were  consid- 
erably nearer  to  the  cairn,  was  intercepted  by  the  broken 
nature  of  the  ground  under  which  they  were  screening  them- 
selves. At  length,  however,  after  the  inter vlI  of  five  or  six 
minutes,  they  also  perceived  that  Eobertson  had  fled,  and 
rushed  hastily  towards  the  place,  while  Sharpitlaw  called  out 
aloud,  in  the  harshest  tones  of  a  voice  which  resembled  a  saw- 
mill at  work,  "  Chase,  lads — chase — haud  the  brae ;  I  see  him 
on  the  edge  of  the  hill!"  Then  hallooing  back  to  the  rear- 
guard of  his  detachment,  he  issued  his  farther  orders :  "  Rat- 
cliff e,  come  here  and  detain  the  woman ;  George,  run  and  keep 
the  stile  at  the  Duke's  Walk;  Rat  cliff  e,  come  here  directly, 
but  first  knock  out  that  mad  bitch's  brains!" 

"Ye  had  better  rin  for  it,  Madge,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "for  it's 
ill  dealing  wi'  an  angry  man." 

Madge  Wildfire  was  not  so  absolutely  void  of  common  sense 
as  not  to  understand  this  innuendo ;  and  while  Ratcliffe,  in 
seemingly  anxious  haste  of  obedience,  hastened  to  the  spot 
where  Sharpitlaw  waited  to  deliver  up  J eanie  Deans  to  his  cus- 
tody, she  fled  with  all  the  despatch  she  could  exert  in  an  op- 
posite direction.  Thus  the  whole  party  were  separated,  and 
in  rapid  motion  of  flight  or  pursuit,  excepting  Ratcliffe  and 
Jeanie,  whom,  although  making  no  attempt  to  escape,  he  held 
fast  by  the  cloak,  and  who  remained  standing  by  Muschat's 
Cairn. 


212 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

You  have  paid  the  heavens  your  function,  and  the  prisoner  the  very 
debt  of  your  calling. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

Jeanie  Deans — for  here  our  story  unites  itself  with,  that 
part  of  the  narrative  which  broke  off  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth 
chapter — while  she  waited,  in  terror  and  amazement,  the  hasty 
advance  of  three  or  four  men  towards  her,  was  yet  more  star- 
tled at  their  sudden  breaking  asunder,  and  giving  chase  in  dif- 
ferent directions  to  the  late  object  of  her  terror,  who  became 
at  that  moment,  though  she  could  not  well  assign  a  reasonable 
cause,  rather  the  cause  of  her  interest.  One  of  the  party — it 
was  Sharpitlaw — came  straight  up  to  her,  and  saying,  "  Your 
name  is  J eanie  Deans,  and  you  are  my  prisoner, "  immediately 
added,  "  but  if  you  will  tell  me  which  way  he  ran  I  will  let 
you  go." 

"  I  dinna  ken,  sir, "  was  all  the  poor  girl  could  utter ;  and, 
indeed,  it  is  the  phrase  which  rises  most  readily  to  the  lips  of 
any  person  in  her  rank,  as  the  readiest  reply  to  any  embar- 
rassing question. 

"  But, "  said  Sharpitlaw,  "  ye  ken  wha  it  was  ye  were  speak- 
ing wi',  my  leddy,  on  the  hillside,  and  midnight  sae  near ;  ye 
surely  ken  that,  my  bonny  woman?" 

"I  dinna  ken,  sir,"  again  iterated  Jeanie,  who  really  did 
not  comprehend  in  her  terror  the  nature  of  the  questions  which 
were  so  hastily  put  to  her  in  this  moment  of  surprise. 

"  We  will  try  to  mend  your  memory  by  and  by,  hinny, " 
said  Sharpitlaw,  and  shouted,  as  we  have  already  told  the 
reader,  to  Katcliffe  to  come  up  and  take  charge  of  her,  while 
he  himself  directed  the  chase  after  Eobertson,  which  he  still 
hoped  might  be  successful.  As  Eatcliffe  approached,  Sharp- 
itlaw pushed  the  young  woman  towards  him  with  some  rude- 
ness, and  betaking  himself  to  the  more  important  object  of  his 
quest,  began  to  scale  crags  and  scramble  up  steep  banks,  with 
an  agility  of  which  his  profession  and  his  general  gravity  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


213 


demeanour  would  previously  have  argued  him  incapable.  In 
a  few  minutes  there  was  no  one  within  sight,  and  only  a  dis- 
tant halloo  from  one  of  the  pursuers  to  the  other,  faintly  heard 
on  the  side  of  the  hill,  argued  that  there  was  any  one  within 
hearing.  Jeanie  Deans  was  left  in  the  clear  moonlight,  stand- 
ing under  the  guard  of  a  person  of  whom  she  knew  nothing, 
and,  what  was  worse,  concerning  whom,  as  the  reader  is  well 
aware,  she  could  have  learned  nothing  that  would  not  have 
increased  her  terror. 

When  all  in  the  distance  was  silent,  Ratcliffe  for  the  first 
time  addressed  her,  and  it  was  in  that  cold  sarcastic  indiffer- 
ent tone  familiar  to  habitual  depravity,  whose  crimes  are 
instigated  by  custom  rather  than  by  passion.  "  This  is 
a  braw  night  for  ye,  dearie, "  he  said,  attempting  to 
pass  his  arm  across  her  shoulder,  "to  be  on  the  green 
hill  wi'  your  jo."  Jeanie  extricated  herself  from  his 
grasp,  but  did  not  make  any  reply.  "I  think  lads  and 
lasses,"  continued  the  ruffian,  " dinna  meet  at  Muschat's 
Cairn  at  midnight  to  crack  nuts,"  and  he  again  attempted 
to  take  hold  of  her. 

"If  ye  are  an  officer  of  justice,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  again  elud- 
ing his  attempt  to  seize  her,  "  ye  deserve  to  have  your  coat 
stripped  from  your  back." 

"  Very  true,  hinny, "  said  he,  succeeding  forcibly  in  his  at- 
tempt to  get  hold  of  her,  "  but  suppose  I  should  strip  your 
cloak  off  first?" 

"Ye  are  more  a  man,  I  am  sure,  than  to  hurt  me,  sir,"  said 
Jeanie;  "for  God's  sake  have  pity  on  a  half -distracted  creat- 
ure!" 

"Come,  come,"  said  Katcliffe,  "you're  a  good-looking 
wench,  and  should  not  be  cross-grained.  I  was  going  to  be 
an  honest  man,  but  the  devil  has  this  very  day  flung  first  a 
lawyer  and  then  a  woman  in  my  gate.  I'll  tell  you  what, 
Jeanie,  they  are  out  on  the  hillside;  if  you'll  be  guided  by 
me,  I'll  carry  you  to  a  wee  bit  corner  in  the  Pleasance  that  I 
ken  o'  in  an  auld  wife's,  that  a'  the  prokitors  o'  Scotland  wot 
naething  o,'  and  we'll  send  Eobertson  word  to  meet  us  in 
Yorkshire,  for  there  is  a  set  o'  braw  lads  about  the  midland 


214 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


counties,  that  I  hae  dune  business  wi'  before  now,  and  sae 
we'll  leave  Mr.  Sharp itlaw  to  whistle  on  his  thumb." 

It  was  fortunate  for  Jeanie,  in  an  emergency  like  the  pres- 
ent, that  she  possessed  presence  of  mind  and  courage,  so  soon 
as  the  first  hurry  of  surprise  had  enabled  her  to  rally  her  rec- 
ollection. She  saw  the  risk  she  was  in  from  a  rufhan,  who 
not  only  was  such  by  profession,  but  had  that  evening  been 
stupifying,  by  means  of  strong  liquors,  the  internal  aversion 
which  he  felt  at  the  business  on  which  Sharpitlaw  had  resolved 
to  employ  him. 

"Dinna  speak  sae  loud,"  said  she,  in  a  low  voice,  "he's  up 
yonder." 

"Who?    Robertson?"  said  Ratcliffe,  eagerly. 

"Ay,"  replied  Jeanie — "up  yonder";  and  she  pointed  to 
the  ruins  of  the  hermitage  and  chapel. 

"  By  G — d,  then, "  said  Ratcliffe,  "  I'll  make  my  ain  of 
him,  either  one  way  or  other;  wait  for  me  here." 

But  no  sooner  had  he  set  off,  as  fast  as  he  could  run,  to- 
wards the  chapel,  than  Jeanie  started  in  an  opposite  direction, 
over  high  and  low,  on  the  nearest  path  homeward.  Her  juve- 
nile exercise  as  a  herdswoman  had  put  "  life  and  mettle"  in 
her  heels,  and  never  had  she  followed  Dustiefoot,  when  the 
cows  were  in  the  corn,  with  half  so  much  speed  as  she  now 
cleared  the  distance  betwixt  Muschat's  Cairn  and  her  father's 
cottage  at  St.  Leonard's.  To  lift  the  latch,  to  enter,  to  shut, 
bolt,  and  double  bolt  the  door,  to  draw  against  it  a  heavy  arti- 
cle of  furniture,  which  she  could  not  have  moved  in  a  moment 
of  less  energy,  so  as  to  make  yet  farther  provision  against  vio- 
lence, was  almost  the  work  of  a  moment,  yet  done  with  such 
silence  as  equalled  the  celerity. 

Her  next  anxiety  was  upon  her  father's  account,  and  she 
drew  silently  to  the  door  of  his  apartment,  in  order  to  satisfy 
herself  whether  he  had  been  disturbed  by  her  return.  He 
was  awake — probably  had  slept  but  little;  but  the  constant 
presence  of  his  own  sorrows,  the  distance  of  his  apartment 
from  the  outer  door  of  the  house,  and  the  precautions  which 
Jeanie  had  taken  to  conceal  her  departure  and  return,  had 
prevented  him  from  being  sensible  of  either.    He  was  engaged 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


215 


in  his  devotions,  and  Jeanie  conld  distinctly  hear  him  use 
these  words :  "  And  for  the  older  child  Thou  hast  given  me  to 
be  a  comfort  and  stay  to  my  old  age,  may  her  days  be  long  in 
the  land,  according  to  the  promise  Thou  hast  given  to  those 
who  shall  honour  father  and  mother;  may  all  her  purchased 
and  promised  blessings  be  multiplied  upon  her ;  keep  her  in 
the  watches  of  the  night,  and  in  the  uprising  of  the  morning, 
that  all  in  this  land  may  know  that  Thou  hast  not  utterly  hid 
Thy  face  from  those  that  seek  Thee  in  truth  and  in  sincerity." 
He  was  silent,  but  probably  continued  his  petition  in  the 
strong  fervency  of  mental  devotion. 

His  daughter  retired  to  her  apartment,  comforted,  that 
while  she  was  exposed  to  danger,  her  head  had  been  covered 
by  the  prayers  of  the  just  as  by  an  helmet,  and  under  the 
strong  confidence  that,  while  she  walked  worthy  of  the  protec- 
tion of  Heaven,  she  would  experience  its  countenance.  It  was 
in  that  moment  that  a  vague  idea  first  darted  across  her  mind, 
that  something  might  yet  be  achieved  for  her  sister's  safety, 
conscious  as  she  now  was  of  her  innocence  of  the  unnatural 
murder  with  which  she  stood  charged.  It  came,  as  she  de- 
scribed it,  on  her  mind  like  a  sun-blink  on  a  stormy  sea ;  and 
although  it  instantly  vanished,  yet  she  felt  a  degree  of  com- 
posure which  she  had  not  experienced  for  many  days,  and 
could  not  help  being  strongly  persuaded  that,  by  some  means 
or  other,  she  would  be  called  upon  and  directed  to  work  out 
her  sister's  deliverance.  She  went  to  bed,  not  forgetting  her 
usual  devotions,  the  more  fervently  made  on  account  of  her 
late  deliverance,  and  she  slept  soundly  in  spite  of  her  agi- 
tation. 

We  must  return  to  Eatcliffe,  who  had  started,  like  a  grey- 
hound from  the  slips  when  the  sportsman  cries  halloo,  so  soon 
as  Jeanie  had  pointed  to  the  ruins.  Whether  he  went  to  aid 
Robertson's  escape  or  to  assist  his  pursuers  may  be  very 
doubtful ;  perhaps  he  did  not  himself  know,  but  had  resolved 
to  be  guided  by  circumstances.  He  had  no  opportunity,  how- 
ever, of  doing  either;  for  he  had  no  sooner  surmounted  the 
steep  ascent,  and  entered  under  the  broken  arches  of  the 
ruins,  than  a  pistol  was  presented  at  his  head,  and  a  harsh 


216 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


voice  commanded  him,  in  the  king's  name,  to  surrender  him- 
self prisoner. 

"Mr.  Sharp itlaw!"  said  Ratcliffe,  surprised,  "is  this  your 
honour?" 

"  Is  it  only  you,  and  be  d — d  to  you?"  answered  the  fiscal, 
still  more  disappointed;  "  what  made  you  leave  the  woman?" 

"  She  told  me  she  saw  Robertson  go  into  the  ruins,  so  I 
made  what  haste  I  could  to  cleek  the  callant." 

"  It's  all  over  now,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  "  we  shall  see  no  more 
of  him  to-night ;  but  he  shall  hide  himself  in  a  bean-hool,  if 
he  remains  on  Scottish  ground  without  my  finding  him.  Call 
back  the  people,  Ratcliffe." 

Ratcliffe  hallooed  to  the  dispersed  officers,  who  willingly 
obeyed  the  signal ;  for  probably  there  was  no  individual  among 
them  who  would  have  been  much  desirous  of  a  rencontre  hand 
to  hand,  and  at  a  distance  from  his  comrades,  with  such  an 
active  and  desperate  fellow  as  Robertson. 

"And  where  are  the  two  women?"  said  Sharpitlaw. 

"Both  made  their  heels  serve  them,  I  suspect,"  replied 
Ratcliffe,  and  he  hummed  the  end  of  the  old  song : 

"  Then  hey  play  up  the  rin-awa'  bride, 
For  she  has  taen  the  gee." 

"  One  woman, "  said  Sharpitlaw,  for,  like  all  rogues,  he  was 
a  great  calumniator  of  the  fair  sex1 — "  one  woman  is  enough 
to  dark  the  fairest  ploy  that  ever  was  planned ;  and  how  could 
I  be  such  an  ass  as  to  expect  to  carry  through  a  job  that  had 
two  in  it?  But  we  know  how  to  come  by  them  both,  if  they 
are  wanted,  that's  one  good  thing." 

Accordingly,  like  a  defeated  general,  sad  and  sulky,  he  led 
back  his  discomfited  forces  to  the  metropolis,  and  dismissed 
them  for  the  night. 

The  next  morning  early,  he  was  under  the  necessity  of  mak- 
ing his  report  to  the  sitting  magistrate  of  the  day.  The  gen- 
tleman who  occupied  the  chair  of  office  on  this  occasion,  for 
the  bailies  (A?iglice,  aldermen)  take  it  by  rotation,  chanced  to 
be  the  same  by  whom  Butler  was  committed,  a  person  very 


i  See  Note  22. 


THE  HEAET  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


217 


generally  respected  among  his  fellow-citizens.  Something  he 
was  of  a  humorist,  and  rather  deficient  in  general  education ; 
but  acute,  patient,  and  upright,  possessed  of  a  fortune  ac- 
quired by  honest  industry,  which  made  him  perfectly  inde- 
pendent ;  and,  in  short,  very  happily  qualified  to  support  the 
respectability  of  the  office  which  he  held. 

Mr.  Middleburgh  had  just  taken  his  seat,  and  was  debating 
in  an  animated  manner,  with  one  of  his  colleagues,  the  doubt- 
ful chances  of  a  game  at  golf  which  they  had  played  the  day 
before,  when  a  letter  was  delivered  to  him,  addressed :  "  For 
Bailie  Middleburgh — These :  to  be  forwarded  with  speed. n  It 
contained  these  words : 

"  Sir. 

"  I  know  you  to  be  a  sensible  and  a  considerate  magistrate, 
and  one  who,  as  such,  will  be  content  to  worship  God  though 
the  devil  bid  you.  I  therefore  expect  that,  notwithstanding 
the  signature  of  this  letter  acknowledges  my  share  in  an 
action  which,  in  a  proper  time  and  place,  I  would  not  fear 
either  to  avow  or  to  justify,  you  will  not  on  that  account  re- 
ject what  evidence  I  place  before  you.  The  clergyman,  But- 
ler, is  innocent  of  all  but  involuntary  presence  at  an  action 
which  he  wanted  spirit  to  approve  of,  and  from  which  he  en- 
deavoured, with  his  best  set  phrases,  to  dissuade  us.  But  it 
was  not  for  him  that  it  is  my  hint  to  speak.  There  is  a  wo- 
man in  your  jail,  fallen  under  the  edge  of  a  law  so  cruel  that 
it  has  hung  by  the  wall,  like  unscoured  armour,  for  twenty 
years,  and  is  now  brought  down  and  whetted  to  spill  the  blood 
of  the  most  beautiful  and  most  innocent  creature  whom  the 
walls  of  a  prison  ever  girdled  in.  Her  sister  knows  of  her 
innocence,  as  she  communicated  to  her  that  she  was  betrayed 
by  a  villain.    Oh  that  high  Heaven 

Would  put  in  every  honest  hand  a  whip, 

To  scourge  me  such  a  villain  through  the  world  ! 

"I  write  distractedly.  But  this  girl — this  Jeanie  Deans,  is 
a  peevish  Puritan,  superstitious  and  scrupulous  after  the 
manner  of  her  sect ;  and  I  pray  your  honour,  for  so  my  phrase 
must  go,  to  press  upon  her  that  her  sister's  life  depends  upon 


218 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


her  testimony.  But  though  she  should  remain  silent,  do  not 
dare  to  think  that  the  young  woman  is  guilty,  far  less  to  per- 
mit her  execution.  Remember,  the  death  of  Wilson  was  fear- 
fully avenged ;  and  those  yet  live  who  can  compel  you  to  drink 
the  dregs  of  your  poisoned  chalice.  I  say,  remember  Porteous 
— and  say  that  you  had  good  counsel  from 

"One  of  his  Slayers." 

The  magistrate  read  over  this  extraordinary  letter  twice  or 
thrice.  At  first  he  was  tempted  to  throw  it  aside  as  the  pro- 
duction of  a  madman,  so  little  did  "the  scraps  from  play- 
books,"  as  he  termed  the  poetical  quotation,  resemble  the 
correspondence  of  a  rational  being.  On  a  reperusal,  how- 
ever, he  thought  that,  amid  its  incoherence,  he  could  discover 
something  like  a  tone  of  awakened  passion,  though  expressed 
in  a  manner  quaint  and  unusual. 

"  It  is  a  cruelly  severe  statute, "  said  the  magistrate  to  his 
assistant,  "  and  I  wish  the  girl  could  be  taken  from  under  the 
letter  of  it.  A  child  may  have  been  born,  and  it  may  have 
been  conveyed  away  while  the  mother  was  insensible,  or  it 
may  have  perished  for  want  of  that  relief  which  the  poor 
creature  herself — helpless,  terrified,  distracted,  despairing, 
and  exhausted — may  have  been  unable  to  afford  to  it.  And 
yet  it  is  certain,  if  the  woman  is  found  guilty  under  the  stat- 
ute, execution  will  follow.  The  crime  has  been  too  common, 
and  examples  are  necessary." 

"  But  if  this  other  wench, "  said  the  city-clerk,  "  can  speak 
to  her  sister  communicating  her  situation,  it  will  take  the  case 
from  under  the  statute. " 

"  Very  true, "  replied  the  Bailie ;  "  and  I  will  walk  out  one 
of  these  days  to  St.  Leonard's  and  examine  the  girl  myself. 
I  know  something  of  their  father  Deans — an  old  true-blue 
Cameronian,  who  would  see  house  and  family  go  to  wreck  ere 
he  would  disgrace  his  testimony  by  a  sinful  complying  with 
the  defections  of  the  times ;  and  such  he  will  probably  uphold 
the  taking  an  oath  before  a  civil  magistrate.  If  they .  are  to 
go  on  and  flourish  with  their  bull-headed  obstinacy,  the  legis- 
lature must  pass  an  act  to  take  their  affirmations,  as  in  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  219 


case  of  Quakers.  But  surely  neither  a  father  nor  a  sister  will 
scruple  in  a  case  of  this  kind.  As  I  said  before,  I  will  go 
speak  with  them  myself,  when  the  hurry  of  this  Porteous  in- 
vestigation is  somewhat  over ;  their  pride  and  spirit  of  con- 
tradiction will  be  far  less  alarmed  than  if  they  were  called 
into  a  court  of  justice  at  once." 

"And  I  suppose  Butler  is  to  remain  incarcerated?"  said  the 
city -clerk. 

"  For  the  present,  certainly, "  said  the  magistrate.  "  But  I 
hope  soon  to  set  him  at  liberty  upon  bail." 

"  Do  you  rest  upon  the  testimony  of  that  light-headed  let- 
ter?" asked  the  clerk. 

"  Not  very  much, "  answered  the  bailie ;  "  and  yet  there  is 
something  striking  about  it  too ;  it  seems  the  letter  of  a  man 
beside  himself,  either  from  great  agitation  or  some  great  sense 
of  guilt." 

"Yes,"  said  the  town-clerk,  "it  is  very  like  the  letter 
of  a  mad  strolling  play-actor,  who  deserves  to  be  hanged 
with  all  the  rest  of  his  gang,  as  your  honour  justly  ob- 
serves." 

"I  was  not  quite  so  bloodthirsty,"  continued  the  magistrate. 
"But  to  the  point.  Butler's  private  character  is  excellent; 
and  I  am  given  to  understand  by  some  inquiries  I  have  been 
making  this  morning,  that  he  did  actually  arrive  in  town  only 
the  day  before  yesterday,  so  that  it  was  impossible  he  could 
have  been  concerned  in  any  previous  machinations  of  these 
unhappy  rioters,  and  it  is  not  likely  that  he  should  have  joined 
them  on  a  sudden ty." 

"  There's  no  saying  anent  that;  zeal  catches  fire  at  a  slight 
spark  as  fast  as  a  brunstane  match,"  observed  the  secretary. 
"I  hae  kenn'd  a  minister  wad  be  fair  gude-day  and  fair 
gude-e'en  wi'  ilka  man  in  the  parochine,  and  hing  just 
as  quiet  as  a  rocket  on  a  stick,  till  ye  mentioned  the 
word  abjuration  oath,  or  patronage,  or  sic-like,  and  then, 
whiz,  he  was  off,  and  up  in  the  air  an  hundred  miles  beyond 
common  manners,  common  sense,  and  common  comprehen- 
sion." 

"  I  do  not  understand, "  answered  the  burgher  magistrate, 


220 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  that  the  young  man  Butler's  zeal  is  of  so  inflammable  a  char- 
acter. But  I  will  make  further  investigation.  What  other 
business  is  there  before  us?" 

And  they  proceeded  to  minute  investigations  concerning  the 
affair  of  Porteous's  death,  and  other  affairs  through  which 
this  history  has  no  occasion  to  trace  them. 

In  the  course  of  their  business  they  were  interrupted  by  an 
old  woman  of  the  lower  rank,  extremely  haggard  in  look  and 
wretched  in  her  apparel,  who  thrust  herself  into  the  council 
room. 

"What  do  you  want,  gudewife?  Who  are  you?"  said 
Bailie  Middleburgh. 

"What  do  I  want!"  replied  she  in  a  sulky  tone.  "I  want 
my  bairn,  or  I  want  naething  frae  nane  o'  ye,  for  as  grand's 
ye  are."  And  she  went  on  muttering  to  herself,  with  the 
wayward  spitef ulness  of  age :  "  They  maun  hae  lordships  and 
honours,  nae  doubt ;  set  them  up,  the  gutter-bloods !  and  deil 
a  gentleman  amang  them. "  Then  again  addressing  the  sitting 
magistrate :  "  Will  your  honour  gie  me  back  my  puir  crazy 
bairn?  His  honour!  I  hae  kenn'd  the  day  when  less  wad 
ser'd  him,  the  oe  of  a  Campvere  skipper." 

"  Good  woman, "  said  the  magistrate  to  this  shrewish  sup- 
plicant, "  tell  us  what  it  is  you  want,  and  do  not  interrupt  the 
court. " 

"That's  as  muckle  as  till  say,  'Bark,  Bawtie,  and  be  dune 
wi't!'  I  tell  ye,"  raising  her  termagant  voice,  "I  want  my 
bairn!  isna  that  braid  Scots?" 

"  Who  are  you?  who  is  your  bairn?"  demanded  the  magis- 
trate. 

"  Wha  am  I?  Wha  suld  I  be,  but  Meg  Murdockson,  and 
wha  suld  my  bairn  be  but  Magdalen  Murdockson?  Your  guard 
soldiers,  and  your  constables,  and  your  officers  ken  us  weel 
eneugh  when  they  rive  the  bits  o'  duds  aff  our  backs,  and 
take  what  penny  o'  siller  we  hae,  and  harle  us  to  the  correc- 
tion-house in  Leith  Wynd,  and  pettle  us  up  wi'  bread  and 
water,  and  sic-like  sunkets." 

"Who  is  she?"  said  the  magistrate,  looking  round  to  some 
of  his  people. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


221 


"  Other  than  a  gude  ane,  sir, "  said  one  of  the  city-officers, 
shrugging  his  shoulders  and  smiling. 

"Will  ye  say  sae?"  said  the  termagant,  her  eye  gleaming 
with  impotent  fury ;  "  an  I  had  ye  amang  the  Frigate  Whins, 
wadna  I  set  my  ten  talents  in  your  wuzzent  face  for  that  very 
word?"  and  she  suited  the  word  to  the  action,  by  spreading 
out  a  set  of  claws  resembling  those  of  St.  George's  dragon  on 
a  country  sign-post. 

"  What  does  she  want  here?"  said  the  impatient  magistrate. 
"Can  she  not  tell  her  business,  or  go  away?" 

"It's  my  bairn — it's  Magdalen  Murdockson  I'm  wantin'," 
answered  the  beldam,  screaming  at  the  highest  pitch  of  her 
cracked  and  mistuned  voice;  "havena  I  been  tellin'  ye  sae 
this  half -hour?  And  if  ye  are  deaf,  what  needs  ye  sit  cockit 
up  there,  and  keep  folk  scraughin'  t'ye  this  gate?" 

"She  wants  her  daughter,  sir,"  said  the  same  officer  whose 
interference  had  given  the  hag  such  offence  before — "her 
daughter,  who  was  taken  up  last  night — Madge  Wildfire,  as 
they  ca'  her." 

"Madge  Hellfire,  as  they  ca'  her!"  echoed  the  beldam; 
"  and  what  business  has  a  blackguard  like  you  to  ca'  an  honest 
woman's  bairn  out  o'  her  ain  name?" 

"An  honest  woman's  bairn,  Maggie?"  answered  the  peace- 
officer,  smiling  and  shaking  his  head  with  an  ironical  empha- 
sis on  the  adjective,  and  a  calmness  calculated  to  provoke  to 
madness  the  furious  old  shrew. 

"If  I  am  no  honest  now,  I  was  honest  ance,"  she  replied; 
"and  that's  mair  than  you  can  say,  ye  born  and  bred  thief, 
that  never  kenn'd  ither  folks'  gear  frae  your  ain  since  the  day 
ye  was  cleckit.  Honest,  say  ye?  Ye  pykit  your  mother's 
pouch  o'  twv°l  pennies  Scotch  when  ye  were  five  years  auld, 
just  as  she  was  taking  leave  o'  your  father  at  the  fit  o'  the 
gallows." 

"  She  has  you  there,  George, "  said  the  assistants,  and  there 
was  a  general  laugh ;  for  the  wit  was  fitted  for  the  meridian 
of  the  place  where  it  was  uttered.  This  general  applause 
somewhat  gratified  the  passions  of  the  old  hag;  the  "grim 
feature"  smiled,  and  even  laughed,  but  it  was  a  laugh  of  bit- 


222 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ter  scorn.  She  condescended,  however,  as  if  appeased  by  the 
success  of  her  sally,  to  explain  her  business  more  distinctly, 
when  the  magistrate,  commanding  silence,  again  desired  her 
either  to  speak  out  her  errand  or  to  leave  the  place. 

"Her  bairn,"  she  said,  "was  her  bairn,  and  she  came  to 
fetch  her  out  of  ill  haft  and  waur  guiding.  If  she  wasna  sae 
wise  as  ither  folk,  few  ither  folk  had  suffered  as  muckle  as 
she  had  done ;  f orbye  that  she  could  fend  the  waur  for  hersell 
within  the  four  wa's  of  a  jail.  She  could  prove  by  fifty  wit- 
nesses, and  fifty  to*  that,  that  her  daughter  had  never  seen 
Jock  Porteous,  alive  or  dead,  since  he  had  gien  her  a  lounder- 
ing  wi'  his  cane,  the  neger  that  he  was !  for  driving  a  dead 
cat  at  the  provost's  wig  on  the  Elector  of  Hanover's  birthday."' 

Notwithstanding  the  wretched  appearance  and  violent  de- 
meanour of  this  woman,  the  magistrate  felt  the  justice  of  her 
argument,  that  her  child  might  be  as  dear  to  her  as  to  a  more 
fortunate  and  more  amiable  mother.  He  proceeded  to  inves-  ( 
tigate  the  circumstances  which  had  led  to  Madge  Murdockson's 
(or  Wildfire's)  arrest,  and  as  it  was  clearly  shown  that  she 
had  not  been  engaged  in  the  riot,  he  contented  himself  with 
directing  that  an  eye  should  be  kept  upon  her  by  the  police, 
but  that  for  the  present  she  should  be  allowed  to  return  home 
with  her  mother.  During  the  interval  of  fetching  Madge  from 
the  jail,  the  magistrate  endeavoured  to  discover  whether  her 
mother  had  been  privy  to  the  change  of  dress  betwixt  that 
young  woman  and  Robertson.  But  on  this  point  he  could  ob- 
tain no  light.  She  persisted  in  declaring  that  she  had  never 
seen  Robertson  since  his  remarkable  escape  during  service- 
time  ;  and  that,  if  her  daughter  had  changed  clothes  with  him, 
it  must  have  been  during  her  absence  at  a  hamlet  about  two 
miles  out  of  town,  called  Duddingstone,  where  she  could  prove 
that  she  passed  that  eventful  night.  And,  in  fact,  one  of  the 
town-officers,  who  had  been  searching  for  stolen  linen  at  the 
cottage  of  a  washerwoman  in  that  village,  gave  his  evidence, 
that  he  had  seen  Maggie  Murdockson  there,  whose  presence 
had  considerably  increased  his  suspicion  of  the  house  in  which 
she  was  a  visitor,  in  respect  that  he  considered  her  as  a  person 
of  no  good  reputation. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


223 


"  I  tauld  ye  sae, "  said  the  hag ;  "  see  now  what  it  is  to  hae 
a  character,  gude  or  bad!  Now,  maybe,  after  a',  I  could  tell 
ye  something  about  Porteous  that  you  council-chamber  bodies 
never  could  find  out,  for  as  muckle  stir  as  ye  mak. " 

All  eyes  were  turned  towards  her,  all  ears  were  alert. 
"  Speak  out!"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  It  will  be  for  your  ain  gude, "  insinuated  the  town-clerk. 

"  Pinna  keep  the  bailie  waiting,"  urged  the  assistants. 

She  remained  doggedly  silent  for  two  or  three  minutes, 
casting  around  a  malignant  and  sulky  glance,  that  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  anxious  suspense  with  which  they  waited  her  an- 
swer. And  then  she  broke  forth  at  once :  "  A?  that  I  ken 
about  him  is,  that  he  was  neither  soldier  nor  gentleman,  but 
just  a  thief  an'  a  blackguard,  like  maist  o?  yoursells,  dears. 
What  will  ye  gie  me  for  that  news,  now?  He  wad  hae  served 
the  Gude  Town  lang  or  provost  or  bailie  wad  hae  found  that 
out,  my  jo!" 

While  these  matters  were  in  discussion,  Madge  Wildfire  en- 
tered, and  her  first  exclamation  was :  "  Eh !  see  if  there  isna 
our  auld  ne?er-do-weel  deeviPs  buckie  oLa  mither.  Hegh, 
sirs !  but  we  are  a  hopefu'  family,  to  be  twa  o'  us  in  the  guard 
at  ance.  But  there  were  better  days  wi?  us  ance ;  were  there 
na,  mither?" 

Old  Maggie's  eyes  had  glistened  with  something  like  an  ex- 
pression of  pleasure  when  she  saw  her  daughter  set  at  liberty. 
But  either  her  natural  affection,  like  that  of  the  tigress,  could 
not  be  displayed  without  a  strain  of  ferocity,  or  there  was 
something  in  the  ideas  which  Madge's  speech  awakened  that 
again  stirred  her  cross  and  savage  temper.  "  What  signifies 
what  we  were,  ye  street-raking  limmer!"  she  exclaimed,  push- 
ing her  daughter  before  her  to  the  door,  with  no  gentle  degree 
of  violence.  "  Fse  tell  thee  what  thou  is  now :  thou's  a  crazed 
hellicat  Bess  o'  Bedlam,  that  shall  taste  naething  but  bread 
and  water  for  a  fortnight,  to  serve  ye  for  the  plague  ye  hae 
gien  me;  and  ower  gude  for  ye,  ye  idle  tawpie!" 

Madge,  however,  escaped  from  her  mother  at  the  door,  ran 
back  to  the  foot  of  the  table,  dropped  a  very  low  and  fantastic 
courtesy  to  the  judge,  and  said,  with  a  giggling  laugh :  "  Our 


224 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


minnie's  sair  mis-set,  after  her  ordinar,  sir.  Se'll  hae  had 
some  quarrel  wi'  her  auld  gudeman — that's  Satan,  ye  ken, 
sirs."  This  explanatory  note  she  gave  in  a  low  confidential 
tone,  and  the  spectators  of  that  credulous  generation  did  not 
hear  it  without  an  involuntary  shudder.  "  The  gudeman  and 
her  disna  aye  gree  weel,  and  then  I  maun  pay  the  piper ;  but 
my  back's  broad  eneugh  to  bear't  a',  and  if  she  hae  nae  hav- 
ings, that's  nae  reason  why  wiser  folk  shouldna  hae  some." 
Here  another  deep  courtesy,  when  the  ungracious  voice  of  her 
mother  was  heard. 

" Madge,  ye  limmer!    If  I  come  to  fetch  ye!" 

"  Hear  till  her,"  said  Madge.  "  But  I'll  wun  out  a  gliff  the 
night  for  a'  that,  to  dance  in  the  moonlight,  when  her  and  the 
gudeman  will  be  whirrying  through  the  blue  lift  on  a  broom- 
shank,  to  see  Jean  Jap,  that  they  hae  putten  intill  the  Kirk- 
caldy tolbooth ;  ay,  they  will  hae  a  merry  sail  ower  Inchkeith, 
and  ower  a'  the  bits  o'  bonny  waves  that  are  poppling  and 
plashing  against  the  rocks  in  the  gowden  glimmer  o'  the 
moon,  ye  ken.  I'm  coming,  mother — I'm  coming,"  she  con- 
cluded, on  hearing  a  scuffle  at  the  door  betwixt  the  beldam 
and  the  officers,  who  were  endeavouring  to  prevent  her  re- 
entrance.  Madge  then  waved  her  hand  wildly  towards  the 
ceiling,  and  sung,  at  the  topmost  pitch  of  her  voice : 

"  Up  in  the  air, 
On  my  bonny  grey  mare, 
And  I  see,  and  I  see,  and  I  see  her  yet "  ; 

and  with  a  hop,  skip,  and  jump,  sprung  out  of  the  room,  as 
the  witches  of  Macbeth  used,  in  less  refined  days,  to  seem  to 
fly  upwards  from  the  stage. 

Some  weeks  intervened  before  Mr.  Middleburgh,  agreeably 
to  his  benevolent  resolution,  found  an  opportunity  of  taking 
a  walk  towards  St.  Leonard's  in  order  to  discover  whether  it 
might  be  possible  to  obtain  the  evidence  hinted  at  in  the 
anonymous  letter  respecting  Effie  Deans. 

In  fact  the  anxious  perquisitions  made  to  discover  the  mur- 
derers of  Porteous  occupied  the  attention  of  all  concerned 
with  the  administration  of  justice. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


225 


In  the  course  of  these  inquiries,  two  circumstances  happened 
material  to  our  story.  Butler,  after  a  close  investigation  of 
his  conduct,  was  declared  innocent  of  accession  to  the  death 
of  Porteous ;  but,  as  having  been  present  during  the  whole 
transaction,  was  obliged  to  find  bail  not  to  quit  his  usual  resi- 
dence at  Liberton,  that  he  might  appear  as  a  witness  when 
called  upon.  The  other  incident  regarded  the  disappearance 
of  Madge  Wildfire  and  her  mother  from  Edinburgh.  When 
they  were  sought,  with  the  purpose  of  subjecting  them  to 
some  further  interrogatories,  it  was  discovered  by  Mr.  Sharp- 
itlaw  that  they  had  eluded  the  observation  of  the  police,  and 
left  the  city  so  soon  as  dismissed  from  the  council-chamber. 
No  efforts  could  trace  the  place  of  their  retreat. 

In  the  mean  while,  the  excessive  indignation  of  the  council 
of  regency,  at  the  slight  put  upon  their  authority  by  the  mur- 
der of  Porteous,  had  dictated  measures,  in  which  their  own 
extreme  desire  of  detecting  the  actors  in  that  conspiracy  were 
consulted,  in  preference  to  the  temper  of  the  people  and  the 
character  of  their  churchmen.  An  act  of  parliament  was  hast- 
ily passed,  offering  two  hundred  pounds  reward  to  those  who 
should  inform  against  any  person  concerned  in  the  deed,  and 
the  penalty  of  death,  by  a  very  unusual  and  severe  enactment, 
was  denounced  against  those  who  should  harbour  the  guilty. 
But  what  was  chiefly  accounted  exceptionable,  was  a  clause, 
appointing  the  act  to  be  read  in  churches  by  the  officiating 
clergyman,  on  the  first  Sunday  of  every  month,  for  a  certain 
period,  immediately  before  the  sermon.  The  ministers  who 
should  refuse  to  comply  with  this  injunction  were  declared, 
for  the  first  offence,  incapable  of  sitting  or  voting  in  any 
church  judicature,  and  for  the  second,  incapable  of  holding 
any  ecclesiastical  preferment  in  Scotland. 

This  last  order  united  in  a  common  cause  those  who  might 
privately  rejoice  in  Porteous' s  death,  though  they  dared  not 
vindicate  the  manner  of  it,  with  the  more  scrupulous  Presby- 
terians, who  held  that  even  the  pronouncing  the  name  of  the 
"  Lords  Spiritual"  in  a  Scottish  pulpit  was,  quodammodo,  an 
acknowledgment  of  Prelacy,  and  that  the  injunction  of  the 
legislature  was  an  interference  of  the  civil  government  with 
15 


226 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS, 


the  jus  divinum  of  Presbytery,  since  to  the  General  Assembly 
alone,  as  representing  the  invisible  head  of  the  kirk,  belonged 
the  sole  and  exclusive  right  of  regulating  whatever  pertained 
to  public  worship.  Very  many  also,  of  different  political  or 
religious  sentiments,  and  therefore  not  much  moved  by  these 
considerations,  thought  they  saw,  in  so  violent  an  act  of  par- 
liament, a  more  vindictive  spirit  than  became  the  legislature 
of  a  great  country,  and  something  like  an  attempt  to  trample 
upon  the  rights  and  independence  of  Scotland.  The  various 
steps  adopted  for  punishing  the  city  of  Edinburgh,  by  taking 
away  her  charter  and  liberties,  for  what  a  violent  and  over- 
mastering mob  had  done  within  her  walls,  were  resented  by 
many,  who  thought  a  pretext  was  too  hastily  taken  for  de- 
grading the  ancient  metropolis  of  Scotland.  In  short,  there 
was  much  heart-burning,  discontent,  and  disaffection  occa- 
sioned by  these  ill-considered  measures.1 

Amidst  these  heats  and  dissensions,  the  trial  of  Erne  Deans, 
after  she  had  been  many  weeks  imprisoned,  was  at  length 
about  to  be  brought  forward,  and  Mr.  Middleburgh  found  leis- 
ure to  inquire  into  the  evidence  concerning  her.  For  this  pur- 
pose, he  chose  a  fine  day  for  his  walk  towards  her  father's  house. 

The  excursion  into  the  country  was  somewhat  distant,  in 
the  opinion  of  a  burgess  of  those  days,  although  many  of  the 
present  inhabit  suburban  villas  considerably  beyond  the  spot 
to  which  we  allude.  Three-quarters  of  an  hour's  walk,  how- 
ever, even  at  a  pace  of  magisterial  gravity,  conducted  our  be- 
nevolent office-bearer  to  the  Crags  of  St.  Leonard's,  and  the 
humble  mansion  of  David  Deans. 

The  old  man  was  seated  on  the  deas,  or  turf -seat,  at  the  end 
of  his  cottage,  busied  in  mending  his  cart-harness  with  his 
own  hands ;  for  in  those  days  any  sort  of  labour  which  re- 
quired a  little  more  skill  than  usual  fell  to  the  share  of  the 
goodman  himself,  and  that  even  when  he  was  well-to-pass  in 
the  world.  With  stern  and  austere  gravity  he  persevered  in 
his  task,  after  having  just  raised  his  head  to  notice  the  advance 
of  the  stranger.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to  have  dis- 
covered, from  his  countenance  and  manner,  the  internal  feel- 
1  See  The  Magistrates  and  the  Porteous  Mob.   Note  23. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


227 


ings  of  agony  with  which  he  contended.  Mr.  Middleburgh 
waited  an  instant,  expecting  Deans  would  in  some  measure 
acknowledge  his  presence  and  lead  into  conversation ;  but,  as 
he  seemed  determined  to  remain  silent,  he  was  himself  obliged 
to  speak  first. 

"  My  name  is  Middleburgh — Mr.  James  Middleburgh,  one 
of  the  present  magistrates  of  the  city  of  Edinburgh." 

"  It  may  be  sae, "  answered  Deans,  laconically,  and  without 
interrupting  his  labour. 

"  You  must  understand, "  he  continued,  "  that  the  duty  of  a 
magistrate  is  sometimes  an  unpleasant  one." 

"  It  may  be  sae, "  replied  David ;  "  I  hae  naething  to  say  in 
the  contrair" ;  and  he  was  again  doggedly  silent. 

"  You  must  be  aware, "  pursued  the  magistrate,  "  that  per- 
sons in  my  situation  are  often  obliged  to  make  painful  and 
disagreeable  inquiries  of  individuals,  merely  because  it  is  their 
bounden  duty." 

"  It  may  be  sae, "  again  replied  Deans ;  "  I  hae  naething  to 
say  anent  it,  either  the  tae  way  or  the  tother.  But  I  do  ken 
there  was  ance  in  a  day  a  just  and  God-fearing  magistracy  in 
yon  town  o'  Edinburgh,  that  did  not  bear  the  sword  in  vain, 
but  were  a  terror  to  evil-doers,  and  a  praise  to  such  as  kept 
the  path.  In  the  glorious  days  of  auld  worthy  f aithfu'  Pro- 
vost Dick, 1  when  there  was  a  true  and  f aithf u?  General  As- 
sembly of  the  Kirk,  walking  hand  in  hand  with  the  real  noble 
Scottish-hearted  barons,  and  with  the  magistrates  of  this  and 
other  towns,  gentles,  burgesses,  and  commons  of  all  ranks, 
seeing  with  one  eye,  hearing  with  one  ear,  and  upholding  the 
ark  with  their  united  strength.  And  then  folk  might  see  men 
deliver  up  their  silver  to  the  state's  use,  as  if  it  had  been  as 
muckle  sclate  stanes.  My  father  saw  them  toom  the  sacks  of 
dollars  out  o'  Provost  Dick's  window  intill  the  carts  that  car- 
ried them  to  the  army  at  Dunse  Law ;  and  if  ye  winna  believe 
his  testimony,  there  is  the  window  itsell  still  standing  in  the 
Luckenbooths— I  think  it's  a  claith-merchant's  booth  the  day2 

1  See  Sir  William  Dick  of  Braid.    Note  24. 

2  I  think  so  too  ;  but  if  the  reader  be  curious,  he  may  consult  Mr.  Cham- 
bers's Traditions  of  Edinburgh. 


228 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


— at  the  airn  stanchells,  five  doors  abune  Gossford's  Close. 
But  now  we  haena  sic  spirit  amang  us ;  we  think  mair  about 
the  warst  wally-draigle  in  our  ain  byre  than  about  the  bless- 
ing which  the  angel  of  the  covenant  gave  to  the  Patriarch, 
even  at  Peniel  and  Mahanaim,  or  the  binding  obligation  of 
our  national  vows ;  and  we  wad  rather  gie  a  pund  Scots  to  buy 
an  unguent  to  clear  our  auld  rannel-trees  and  our  beds  o'  the 
English  bugs,  as  they  ca'  them,  than  we  wad  gie  a  plack  to 
rid  the  land  of  the  swarm  of  Arminian  caterpillars,  Socinian 
pismires,  and  deistical  Miss  Katies,  that  have  ascended  out  of 
the  bottomless  pit  to  plague  this  perverse,  insidious,  and  luke- 
warm generation." 

It  happened  to  Davie  Deans  on  this  occasion,  as  it  has  done 
to  many  other  habitual  orators,  when  once  he  became  embarked 
on  his  favourite  subject,  the  stream  of  his  own  enthusiasm 
carried  him  forward  in  spite  of  his  mental  distress,  while  his 
well-exercised  memory  supplied  him  amply  with  all  the  types 
and  tropes  of  rhetoric  peculiar  to  his  sect  and  cause. 

Mr.  Middleburgh  contented  himself  with  answering :  "  All 
this  may  be  very  true,  my  friend;  but,  as  you  said  just  now, 
I  have  nothing  to  say  to  it  at  present,  either  one  way  or  other. 
You  have  two  daughters,  I  think,  Mr.  Deans  ?" 

The  old  man  winced,  as  one  whose  smarting  sore  is  sud- 
denly galled;  but  instantly  composed  himself,  resumed  the 
work  which,  in  the  heat  of  his  declamation,  he  had  laid  down, 
and  answered  with  sullen  resolution :  "  Ae  daughter,  sir — only 
arte. " 

"I  understand  you,"  said  Mr.  Middleburgh;  "you  have 
only  one  daughter  here  at  home  with  you;  but  this  unfortu- 
nate girl  who  is  a  prisoner — she  is,  I  think,  your  youngest 
daughter?" 

The  Presbyterian  sternly  raised  his  eyes.  "After  the 
world,  and  according  to  the  flesh,  she  is  my  daughter;  but 
when  she  became  a  child  of  Belial,  and  a  company -keeper, 
and  a  trader  in  guilt  and  iniquity,  she  ceased  to  be  a  bairn 
of  mine." 

"  Alas,  Mr.  Deans, "  said  Middleburgh,  sitting  down  by  him 
and  endeavouring  to  take  his  hand,  which  the  old  man  proudly 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


229 


withdrew,  "  we  are  ourselves  all  sinners ;  and  the  errors  of  our 
offspring,  as  they  ought  not  to  surprise  us,  being  the  portion 
which  they  derive  of  a  common  portion  of  corruption  inherited 
through  us,  so  they  do  not  entitle  us  to  cast  them  off  because 
they  have  lost  themselves." 

"  Sir, "  said  Deans,  impatiently,  "  I  ken  a'  that  as  weel  as — 
I  mean  to  say,"  he  resumed,  checking  the  irritation  he  felt  at 
being  schooled — a  discipline  of  the  mind  which  those  most 
ready  to  bestow  it  on  others  do  themselves  most  reluctantly 
submit  to  receive — "  I  mean  to  say,  that  what  ye  observe  may 
be  just  and  reasonable;  but  I  hae  nae  freedom  to  enter  into 
my  ain  private  affairs  wi?  strangers  And  now,  in  this  great 
national  emergency,  when  there's  the  Porteous  Act  has  come 
doun  frae  London,  that  is  a  deeper  blow  to  this  poor  sinfu' 
kingdom  and  suffering  kirk  than  ony  that  has  been  heard  of 
since  the  foul  and  fatal  Test — at  a  time  like  this  " 

"  But,  goodman, "  interrupted  Mr.  Middleburgh,  "  you  must 
think  of  your  own  household  first,  or  else  you  are  worse  even 
than  the  infidels." 

"  I  tell  ye,  Bailie  Middleburgh, "  retorted  Davie  Deans,  "  if 
ye  be  a  bailie,  as  there  is  little  honour  in  being  ane  in  these 
evil  days — I  tell  ye,  I  heard  the  gracious  Saunders  Peden — I 
wotna  whan  it  was ;  but  it  was  in  killing  time,  when  the  plow- 
ers  were  drawing  alang  their  furrows  on  the  back  of  the  Kirk 
of  Scotland — I  heard  him  tell  his  hearers,  gude  and  waled 
Christians  they  were  too,  that  some  o?  them  wad  greet  mair 
for  a  bit  drowned  calf  or  stirk  than  for  a?  the  defections  and 
oppressions  of  the  day;  and  that  they  were  some  o'  them 
thinking  o?  ane  thing,  some  o?  anither,  and  there  was  Lady 
Hundleslope  thinking  o'  greeting  Jock  at  the  fireside !  And 
the  lady  confessed  in  my  hearing  that  a  drow  of  anxiety  had 
come  ower  her  for  her  son  that  she  had  left  at  hame  weak  of 
a  decay.1    And  what  wad  he  hae  said  of  me,  if  I  had  ceased 

to  think  of  the  gude  cause  for  a  castaway — a  It  kills 

me  to  think  of  what  she  is!" 

"  But  the  life  of  your  child,  goodman — think  of  that ;  if  her 
life  could  be  saved, "  said  Middleburgh. 

1  See  Life  of  Peden,  p.  111. 


230 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Her  life !"  exclaimed  David.  "  I  wadna  gie  ane  o'  my  grey 
hairs  for  her  life  if  her  gude  name  be  gane.  And  yet, "  said 
he,  relenting  and  retracting  as  he  spoke,  "  I  wad  make  the 
niffer,  Mr.  Middlebnrgh — I  wad  gie  a'  these  grey  hairs  that 
she  has  brought  to  shame  and  sorrow — I  wad  gie  the  auld 
head  they  grow  on,  for  her  life,  and  that  she  might  hae  time 
to  amend  and  return,  for  what  hae  the  wicked  beyond  the 
breath  of  their  nostrils?  But  I'll  never  see  her  mair.  No! 
that — that  I  am  determined  in — I'll  never  see  her  mair!" 
His  lips  continued  to  move  for  a  minute  after  his  voice 
ceased  to  be  heard,  as  if  he  were  repeating  the  same  vow 
internally. 

"  Well,  sir, "  said  Mr.  Middleburgh,  "  I  speak  to  you  as  a  man 
of  sense;  if  you  would  save  your  daughter's  life,  you  must  use 
human  means." 

"  I  understand  what  you  mean ;  but  Mr.  Novit,  who  is  the 
procurator  and  doer  of  an  honourable  person,  the  Laird  of 
Dumbiedikes,  is  to  do  what  carnal  wisdom  can  do  for  her  in 
the  circumstances.  My  sell  am  not  clear  to  trinquet  and  traffic 
wi'  courts  o'  justice,  as  they  are  now  constituted;  I  have  a 
tenderness  and  scruple  in  my  mind  anent  them." 

"  That  is  to  say, "  said  Middleburgh,  "  that  you  are  a  Cam- 
eronian,  and  do  not  acknowledge  the  authority  of  our  courts 
of  judicature,  or  present  government?" 

"  Sir,  under  your  favour, "  replied  David,  who  was  too 
proud  of  his  own  polemical  knowledge  to  call  himself  the  fol- 
lower of  any  one,  "ye  take  me  up  before  I  fall  down.  I 
canna  see  why  I  suld  be  termed  a  Cameronian,  especially  now 
that  ye  hae  given  the  name  of  that  famous  and  savoury  suf- 
ferer, not  only  until  a  regimental  band  of  souldiers,  whereof 
I  am  told  many  can  now  curse,  swear,  and  use  profane  lan- 
guage as  fast  as  ever  Richard  Cameron  could  preach  or  pray, 
but  also  because  ye  have,  in  as  far  as  it  is  in  your  power,  ren- 
dered that  martyr's  name  vain  and  contemptible,  by  pipes, 
drums,  and  fifes,  playing  the  vain  carnal  spring,  called  the 
Cameronian  Eant,  which  too  many  professors  of  religion  dance 
to — a  practice  maist  unbecoming  a  professor  to  dance  to  any 
tune  whatsoever,  more  especially  promiscuously,  that  is,  with 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


231 


the  female  sex. 1  A  brutish  fashion  it  is,  whilk  is  the  begin- 
ning of  defection  with  many,  as  I  may  hae  as  muckle  cause  as 
maist  folk  to  testify." 

"Well,  but,  Mr.  Deans,"  replied  Mr.  Middleburgh,  "I  only 
meant  to  say  that  you  were  a  Cameronian,  or  MacMillanite, 
one  of  the  society  people,  in  short,  who  think  it  inconsistent 
to  take  oaths  under  a  government  where  the  Covenant  is  not 
ratified. " 

"  Sir, 99  replied  the  controversialist,  who  forgot  even  his 
present  distress  in  such  discussions  as  these,  "you  cannot 
fickle  me  sae  easily  as  you  do  opine.  I  am  not  a  MacMillan- 
ite, or  a  Russelite,  or  a  Hamiltonian,  or  a  Harleyite,  or  a 
Howdenite ; 2  I  will  be  led  by  the  nose  by  none ;  I  take  my 
name  as  a  Christian  from  no  vessel  of  clay.  I  have  my  own 
principles  and  practice  to  answer  for,  and  am  an  humble 
pleader  for  the  gude  auld  cause  in  a  legal  way. " 

"  That  is  to  say,  Mr.  Deans, 99  said  Middleburgh,  "  that  you 
are  a  Deanite,  and  have  opinions  peculiar  to  yourself. 99 

"  It  may  please  you  to  say  sae, "  said  David  Deans ;  "  but 
I  have  maintained  my  testimony  before  as  great  folk,  and  in 
sharper  times ;  and  though  I  will  neither  exalt  myself  nor  pull 
down  others,  I  wish  every  man  and  woman  in  this  land  had 
kept  the  true  testimony,  and  the  middle  and  straight  path,  as 
it  were,  on  the  ridge  of  a  hill,  where  wind  and  water  shears, 
avoiding  right-hand  snares  and  extremes  and  left-hand  way- 
slidings,  as  weel  as  Johnny  Dodds  of  Farthing's  Acre  and  ae 
man  mair  that  shall  be  nameless." 

"  I  suppose, "  replied  the  magistrate,  "  that  is  as  much  as  to 
say,  that  Johnny  Dodds  of  Farthing's  Acre  and  David  Deans 
of  St.  Leonard's  constitute  the  only  members  of  the  true,  real, 
unsophisticated  Kirk  of  Scotland?" 

"  God  forbid  that  I  suld  make  sic  a  vainglorious  speech, 
when  there  are  sae  mony  professing  Christians!"  answered 
David ;  "  but  this  I  maun  say,  that  all  men  act  according  to 
their  gifts  and  their  grace,  sae  that  it  is  nae  marvel  that  " 

"  This  is  all  very  fine, "  interrupted  Mr.  Middleburgh ;  "  but 

1  See  Note  to  Patrick  Walker. 

2  All  various  species  of  the  great  genus  Cameronian, 


232 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


I  have  no  time  to  spend  in  hearing  it.  The  matter  in  hand  is 
this :  I  have  directed  a  citation  to  be  lodged  in  your  daughter's 
hands.  If  she  appears  on  the  day  of  trial  and  gives  evidence, 
there  is  reason  to  hope  she  may  save  her  sister's  life;  if,  from 
any  constrained  scruples  about  the  legality  of  her  performing 
the  office  of  an  affectionate  sister  and  a  good  subject,  by  ap- 
pearing in  a  court  held  under  the  authority  of  the  law  and 
government,  you  become  the  means  of  deterring  her  from  the 
discharge  of  this  duty,  I  must  say,  though  the  truth  may 
sound  harsh  in  your  ears,  that  you,  who  gave  life  to  this 
unhappy  girl,  will  become  the  means  of  her  losing  it  by  a 
premature  and  violent  death." 

So  saying,  Mr.  Middleburgh  turned  to  leave  him. 

"  Bide  a  wee — bide  a  wee,  Mr.  Middleburgh, "  said  Deans, 
in  great  perplexity  and  distress  of  mind;  but  the  bailie,  who 
was  probably  sensible  that  protracted  discussion  might  dimin- 
ish the  effect  of  his  best  and  most  forcible  argument,  took  a 
hasty  leave,  and  declined  entering  farther  into  the  controversy. 

Deans  sunk  down  upon  his  seat,  stunned  with  a  variety  of 
conflicting  emotions.  It  had  been  a  great  source  of  contro- 
versy among  those  holding  his  opinions  in  religious  matters, 
~  how  far  the  government  which  succeeded  the  Eevolution  could 
"be,""*without  sin,  acknowledged  by  true  Presbyterians,  seeing 
thaFTt  did  not  recognise  the  great  national  testimony  of  the 
Solemn.  League  and  Covenant.  And  latterly,  those  agreeing 
in  this  general  doctrine,  and  assuming  the  sounding  title  of 
the  anti-Popish,  anti-Prelatic,  anti-Erastian,  anti- Sectarian, 
true  Presbyterian  remnant,  were  divided  into  many  petty 
sects  among  themselves,  even  as  to  the  extent  of  submission 
to  the  existing  laws  and  rulers  which  constituted  such  an  ac- 
knowledgment as  amounted  to  sin. 

At  a  very  stormy  and  tumultuous  meeting,  held  in  1682,  to 
discuss  these  important  and  delicate  points,  the  testimonies  of 
the  faithful  few  were  found  utterly  inconsistent  with  each 
other.1  The  place  where  this  conference  took  place  was  re- 
markably well  adapted  for  such  an  assembly.  It  was  a  wild 
and  very  sequestered  dell  in  Tweeddale,  surrounded  by  high 
i  See  Meeting  at  Talla  Linns.   Note  25, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


233 


hills,  and  far  remote  from  human  habitation.  A  small  river, 
or  rather  a  mountain  torrent,  called  the  Talla,  breaks  down 
the  glen  with  great  fury,  dashing  successively  over  a  number 
of  small  cascades,  which  has  procured  the  spot  the  name  of 
Talla  Linns.  Here  the  leaders  among  the  scattered  adherents 
to  the  Covenant,  men  who,  in  their  banishment  from  human 
society,  and  in  the  recollection  of  the  severities  to  which  they 
had  been  exposed,  had  become  at  once  sullen  in  their  tempers 
and  fantastic  in  their  religious  opinions,  met  with  arms  in 
their  hands,  and  by  the  side  of  the  torrent  discussed,  with  a 
turbulence  which  the  noise  of  the  stream  could  not  drown, 
points  of  controversy  as  empty  and  unsubstantial  as  its  foam. 

It  was  the  fixed  judgment  of  most  of  the  meeting,  that  all 
payment  of  cess  or  tribute  to  the  existing  government  was  ut- 
terly unlawful,  and  a  sacrificing  to  idols.  About  other  impo- 
sitions and  degrees  of  submission  there  were  various  opinions ; 
and  perhaps  it  is  the  best  illustration  of  the  spirit  of  those 
military  fathers  of  the  church  to  say,  that  while  all  allowed 
it  was  impious  to  pay  the  cess  employed  for  maintaining  the 
standing  army  and  militia,  there  was  a  fierce  controversy  on 
the  lawfulness  of  paying  the  duties  levied  at  ports  and  bridges, 
for  maintaining  roads  and  other  necessary  purposes ;  that  there 
were  some  who,  repugnant  to  these  imposts  for  turnpikes  and 
pontages,  were  nevertheless  free  in  conscience  to  make  pay- 
ment of  the  usual  freight  at  public  ferries,  and  that  a  person 
of  exceeding  and  punctilious  zeal,  James  Russel,  one  of  the 
slayers  of  the  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrews,  had  given  his  testi- 
mony with  great  warmth  even  against  this  last  faint  shade  of 
subjection  to  constituted  authority.  This  ardent  and  enlight- 
ened person  and  his  followers  had  also  great  scruples  about 
the  lawfulness  of  bestowing  the  ordinary  names  upon  the  days 
of  the  week  and  the  months  of  the  year,  which  savoured  in 
their  nostrils  so  strongly  of  paganism,  that  at  length  they  ar- 
rived at  the  conclusion  that  they  who  owned  such  names  as 
Monday,  Tuesday,  January,  February,  and  so  forth,  "  served 
themselves  heirs  to  the  same,  if  not  greater,  punishment  than 
had  been  denounced  against  the  idolaters  of  old." 

David  Deans  had  been  present  on  this  memorable  occasion, 


234 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


although  too  young  to  be  a  speaker  among  the  polemical  com- 
batants. His  brain,  however,  had  been  thoroughly  heated  by 
the  noise,  clamour,  and  metaphysical  ingenuity  of  the  discus- 
sion, and  it  was  a  controversy  to  which  his  mind  had  often 
returned;  and  though  he  carefully  disguised  his  vacillation 
from  others,  and  perhaps  from  himself,  he  had  never  been 
able  to  come  to  any  precise  line  of  decision  on  the  subject. 
In  fact,  his  natural  sense  had  acted  as  a  counterpoise  to  his 
controversial  zeal.  He  was  by  no  means  pleased  with  the 
quiet  and  indifferent  manner  in  which  King  William's  govern- 
ment slurred  over  the  errors  of  the  times,  when,  far  from  re- 
storing the  Presbyterian  Kirk  to  its  former  supremacy,  they 
passed  an  act  of  oblivion  even  to  those  who  had  been  its  per- 
secutors, and  bestowed  on  many  of  them  titles,  favours,  and 
employments.  When,  in  the  first  General  Assembly  which 
succeeded  the  Revolution,  an  overture  was  made  for  the  re- 
vival of  the  League  and  Covenant,  it  was  with  horror  that 
Douce  David  heard  the  proposal  eluded  by  the  men  of  carnal 
wit  and  policy,  as  he  called  them,  as  being  inapplicable  to  the 
present  times,  and  not  falling  under  the  modern  model  of  the 
church.  The  reign  of  Queen  Anne  had  increased  his  convic- 
tion that  the  Revolution  government  was  not  one  of  the  true 
Presbyterian  complexion.  But  then,  more  sensible  than  the 
bigots  of  his  sect,  he  did  not  confound  the  moderation  and 
tolerance  of  these  two  reigns  with  the  active  tyranny  and  op- 
pression exercised  in  those  of  Charles  II.  and  James  II.  The 
Presbyterian  form  of  religion,  though  deprived  of  the  weight 
formerly  attached  to  its  sentences  of  excommunication,  and 
compelled  to  tolerate  the  co-existence  of  Episcopacy,  and  of 
sects  of  various  descriptions,  was  still  the  National  Church; 
and  though  the  glory  of  the  second  temple  was  far  inferior  to 
that  which  had  flourished  from  1639  till  the  battle  of  Dunbar, 
still  it  was  a  structure  that,  wanting  the  strength  and  the  ter- 
rors, retained  at  least  the  form  and  symmetry,  of  the  original 
model.  Then  came  the  insurrection  in  1715,  and  David  Deans's 
horror  for  the  revival  of  the  popish  and  prelatical  faction  rec- 
onciled him  greatly  to  the  government  of  King  George,  al- 
though he  grieved  that  that  monarch  might  be  suspected  of  a 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


235 


leaning  unto  Erastianism.  In  short,  moved  by  so  many  differ- 
ent considerations,  he  had  shifted  his  ground  at  different  times 
concerjoin^Jbhe^degree  of  freedom  winch  he  ielt  in  adopting 
any  act  of  immediate  acknowledgment  ^"submission  to  the 
present  government,  which,  however  mildTand"  paternal,  was 
still  un  covenanted ;  and  now  he  felt  himself 'called  upon  by 
the  most  powerful  motive  conceivable  to  authorise  his  daugh- 
ter's giving  testimony  in  a  court  of  justice,  which  all  who  have 
been  since  called  Cameronians  accounted  a  step  of  lamentable 
and  direct  defection.  The  voice  of  nature,  however,  exclaimed 
loud  in  his^ bosom  against  the  dictates  of  fanaticism;  and  his 
imagination,  fertile  in  the  solution  of  polemical  difficulties, 
devised  an  expedient  for  extricating  himself  from  the  fearful 
dilemma,  in  which  he  saw,  on  the  one  side,  a  falling  off  from 
principle,  and,  on  the  other,  a  scene  from  which  a  father's 
thoughts  could  not  but  turn  in  shuddering  horror. 

"  I  have  been  constant  and  unchanged  in  my  testimony, "  said 
David  Deans ;  "  but  then  who  has  said  it  of  me,  that  I  have 
judged  my  neighbour  over  closely,  because  he  hath  had  more 
freedom  in  his  walk  than  I  have  found  in  mine?  I  never  was 
a  separatist,  nor  for  quarrelling  with  tender  souls  about  mint, 
cummin,  or  other  of  the  lesser  tithes.  My  daughter  Jean  may 
have  a  light  in  this  subject  that  is  hid  frae  my  auld  een;  it 
is  laid  on  her  conscience,  and  not  on  mine.  If  she  hath  free- 
dom to  gang  before  this  judicatory,  and  hold  up  her  hand 
for  this  poor  castaway,  purely  I  will  riQt  say  she  steppeth  over 
her  bounds ;  and  if  not  "  He  paused  in  his  mental  argu- 
ment, while  a  pang  of  unutterable  anguish  convulsed  his  feat- 
ures, yet,  shaking  it  off,  he  firmly  resumed  the  strain  of  his 
reasoning :  "  And  if  not,  God  forbid  that  she  should  go  into 
defection  at  bidding  of  mine !  I  wunna  fret  the  tender  con- 
science of  one  bairn — no,  not  to  save  the  life  of  the  other. w 

A  Eoman  would  have  devoted  his  daughter  to  death  from 
different  feelings  and  motives,  but  not  upon  a  more  heroic 
principle  of  duty. 


236 


"WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

To  man,  in  this  his  trial  state. 

The  privilege  is  given, 
When  tost  hy  tides  of  human  fate, 

To  anchor  fast  on  heaven. 

Watts' s  Hymns. 

It  was  with  a  firm  step  that  Deans  sought  his  daughter's 
apartment,  determined  to  leave  her  to  the  light  of  her  own 
conscience  in  the  dubious  point  of  casuistry  in  which  he  sup- 
posed her  to  be  placed. 

The  little  room  had  been  the  sleeping-apartment  of  both 
sisters,  and  there  still  stood  there  a  small  occasional  bed  which 
had  been  made  for  Erne's  accommodation,  when,  complaining 
of  illness,  she  had  declined  to  share,  as  in  happier  times,  her 
sister's  pillow.  The  eyes  of  Deans  rested  involuntarily,  on 
entering  the  room,  upon  this  little  couch,  with  its  dark  green 
coarse  curtains,  and  the  ideas  connected  with  it  rose  so  thick 
upon  his  soul  as  almost  to  incapacitate  him  from  opening  his 
errand  to  his  daughter.  Her  occupation  broke  the  ice.  He 
found  her  gazing  on  a  slip  of  paper,  which  contained  a  citation 
to  her  to  appear  as  a  witness  upon  her  sister's  trial  in  behalf 
of  the  accused.  For  the  worthy  magistrate,  determined  to 
omit  no  chance  for  doing  Erne  justice  and  to  leave  her  sister 
no  apology  for  not  giving  the  evidence  which  she  was  sup- 
posed to  possess,  had  caused  the  ordinary  citation,  or  subpoena, 
of  the  Scottish  criminal  court,  to  be  served  upon  her  by  an 
officer  during  his  conference  with  David. 

This  precaution  was  so  far  favourable  to  Deans,  that  it 
saved  him  the  pain  of  entering  upon  a  formal  explanation  with 
his  daughter ;  he  only  said,  with  a  hollow  and  tremulous  voice : 
"  I  perceive  ye  are  aware  of  the  matter. " 

"  0  father,  we  are  cruelly  sted  between  God's  laws  and 
man's  laws.    What  shall  we  do?    What  can  we  do?" 

Jeanie,  it  must  be  observed,  had  no  hesitation  whatever 
about  the  mere  act  of  appearing  in  a  court  of  justice.  She 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


237 


might  have  heard  the  point  discussed  by  her  father  more  than 
once ;  but  we  have  already  noticed,  that  she  was  accustomed 
to  listen  with  reverence  to  much  which  she  was  incapable  of 
understanding,  and  that  subtle  arguments  of  casuistry  found 
her  a  patient  but  unedified  hearer.  Upon  receiving  the  cita- 
tion, therefore,  her  thoughts  did  not  turn  upon  the  chimerical 
scruples  which  alarmed  her  father's  mind,  but  to  the  language 
which  had  been  held  to  her  by  the  stranger  at  Muschat's 
Cairn.  In  a  word,  she  never  doubted  but  she  was  to  be 
dragged  forward  into  the  court  of  justice,  in  order  to  place 
her  in  the  cruel  position  of  either  sacrificing  her  sister  by  tell- 
ing the  truth,  or  committing  perjury  in  order  to  save  her  life. 
And  so  strongly  did  her  thoughts  run  in  this  channel,  that 
she  applied  her  father's  words,  "  Ye  are  aware  of  the  matter," 
to  his  acquaintance  with  the  advice  that  had  been  so  fearfully 
enforced  upon  her.  She  looked  up  with  anxious  surprise,  not 
unmingled  with  a  cast  of  horror,  which  his  next  words,  as  she 
interpreted  and  applied  them,  were  not  qualified  to  remove. 

"Daughter,"  said  David,  "it  has  ever  been  my  mind, 
that  in  things  of  ane  doubtful  and  controversial  nature  ilk 
Christian's  conscience  suld  be  his  ain  guide.  Wherefore  de- 
scend into  yourself,  try  your  ain  mind  with  sufficiency  of  soul 
exercise,  and  as  you  sail  finally  find  yourself  clear  to  do  in 
this  matter,  even  so  be  it." 

"  But,  father, "  said  Jeanie,  whose  mind  revolted  at  the  con- 
struction which  she  naturally  put  upon  his  language,  "can 
this — this  be  a  doubtful  or  controversial  matter?  Mind,  fa- 
ther, the  ninth  command :  6  Thou  shalt  not  bear  false  witness 
against  thy  neighbour. ?  " 

David  Deans  paused;  for,  still  applying  her  speech  to  his 
preconceived  difficulties,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  she,  a  woman 
and  a  sister,  was  scarce  entitled  to  be  scrupulous  upon  this  oc- 
casion, where  he,  a  man,  exercised  in  the  testimonials  of  that 
testifying  period,  had  given  indirect  countenance  to  her  follow- 
ing what  must  have  been  the  natural  dictates  of  her  own  feel- 
ings. But  he  kept  firm  his  purpose,  until  his  eyes  involuntarily 
rested  upon  the  little  settle-bed,  and  recalled  the  form  of  the 
child  of  his  old  age,  as  she  sate  upon  it,  pale,  emaciated,  and 


238 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


broken-hearted.  His  mind,  as  the  picture  arose  before  him, 
involuntarily  conceived,  and  his  tongue  involuntarily  uttered 
; — but  in  a  tone  how  different  from  his  usual  dogmatical  preci- 
sion ! — arguments  for  the  course  of  conduct  likely  to  ensure  his 
child's  safety. 

"  Daughter, "  he  said,  "  I  did  not  say  that  your  path  was 
free  from  stumbling;  and,  questionless,  this  act  may  be  in 
the  opinion  of  some  a  transgression,  since  he  who  beareth 
witness  unlawfully,  and  against  his  conscience,  doth  in 
some  sort  bear  false  witness  against  his  neighbour.  Yet  in 
matters  of  compliance,  the  guilt  lieth  not  in  the  compliance 
sae  muckle  as  in  the  mind  and  conscience  of  him  that  doth 
comply;  and,  therefore,  although  my  testimony  hath  not  been 
spared  upon  public  defections,  I  haena  felt  freedom  to  separ- 
ate mysell  from  the  communion  of  many  who  have  been 
clear  to  hear  those  ministers  who  have  taken  the  fatal 
indulgence,  because  they  might  get  good  of  them,  though 
I  could  not." 

When  David  had  proceeded  thus  far,  his  conscience  re- 
proved him  that  he  might  be  indirectly  undermining  the  pur- 
ity of  his  daughter's  faith,  and  smoothing  the  way  for  her 
falling  off  from  strictness  of  principle.  He,  therefore,  sud- 
denly stopped,  and  changed  his  tone :  "  Jeanie,  I  perceive  that 
our  vile  affections — so  I  call  them  in  respect  of  doing  the  will 
of  our  Father — cling  too  heavily  to  me  in  this  hour  of  trying 
sorrow,  to  permit  me  to  keep  sight  of  my  ain  duty,  or  to  airt 
you  to  yours.  I  will  speak  nae  mair  anent  this  over-trying 
matter.    Jeanie,  if  ye  can,  wi'  God  and  gude  conscience,  speak 

in  favour  of  this  puir  unhappy  (here  his  voice  faltered). 

She  is  your  sister  in  the  flesh :  worthless  and  castaway  as  she 
is,  she  is  the  daughter  of  a  saint  in  heaven,  that  was  a  mother 
to  you,  Jeanie,  in  place  of  your  ain ;  but  if  ye  arena  free  in 
conscience  to  speak  for  her  in  the  court  of  judicature,  follow 
your  conscience,  Jeanie,  and  let  God's  will  be  done."  After 
this  adjuration  he  left  the  apartment,  and  his  daughter  re- 
mained in  a  state  of  great  distress  and  perplexity. 

It  would  have  been  no  small  addition  to  the  sorrows  of 
David  Deans,  even  in  this  extremity  of  suffering,  had  he 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


239 


known  that  his  daughter  was  applying  the  casuistical  argu- 
ments which  he  had  been  using,  not  iu  the  sense  of  a  permis- 
sion to  follow  her  own  opinion  on  a  dubious  and  disputed 
point  of  controversy,  but  rather  as  an  encouragement  to  trans- 
gress one  of  those  divine  commandments  which  Christians  of 
all  sects  and  denominations  unite  in  holding  most  sacred. 

"Can  this  be?"  said  Jeanie,  as  the  door  closed  on  her  fa- 
ther— "  can  these  be  his  words  that  I  have  heard,  or  has  the 
Enemy  taken  his  voice  and  features  to  give  weight  unto  the 
counsel  which  causeth  to  perish?  A  sister's  life,  and  a  father 
pointing  out  how  to  save  it!  0  God  deliver  me!  this  is  a 
fearfu'  temptation." 

Eoaming  from  thought  to  thought,  she  at  one  time  imagined 
her  father  understood  the  ninth  commandment  literally,  as  pro- 
hibiting false  witness  against  our  neighbour,  without  extend- 
ing the  denunciation  against  falsehood  uttered  in  favour  of 
the  criminal.  But  her  clear  and  unsophisticated  power  of  dis- 
criminating between  good  and  evil  instantly  rejected  an  inter- 
pretation so  limited  and  so  unworthy  of  the  Author  of  the 
law.  She  remained  in  a  state  of  the  most  agitating  terror  and 
uncertainty — afraid  to  communicate  her  thoughts  freely  to  her 
father,  lest  she  should  draw  forth  an  opinion  with  which  she 
could  not  comply;  wrung  with  distress  on  her  sister's  account, 
rendered  the  more  acute  by  reflecting  that  the  means  of  sav- 
ing her  were  in  her  power,  but  were  such  as  her  conscience 
prohibited  her  from  using ;  tossed,  in  short,  like  a  vessel  in 
an  open  roadstead  during  a  storm,  and,  like  that  vessel,  rest- 
ing on  one  only  sure  cable  and  anchor — faith  in  Providence,  - 
and  a  resolution  to  discharge  her  duty. 

Butler's  affection  and  strong  sense  of  religion  would  have 
been  her  principal  support  in  these  distressing  circumstances, 
but  he  was  still  under  restraint,  which  did  not  permit  him  to 
come  to  St.  Leonard's  Crags;  and  her  distresses  were  of  a  na- 
ture which,  with  her  indifferent  habits  of  scholarship,  she  found 
it  impossible  to  express  in  writing.  She  was  therefore  com- 
pelled to  trust  for  guidance  to  her  own  unassisted  sense  of 
what  was  right  or  wrong. 

It  was  not  the  least  of  Jeanie's  distresses  that,  although 


240 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


she  hoped  and  believed  her  sister  to  be  innocent,  she  had  not 
the  means  of  receiving  that  assurance  from  her  own  mouth. 

The  double-dealing  of  Ratcliffe  in  the  matter  of  Robertson 
had  not  prevented  his  being  rewarded,  as  double-dealers  fre- 
quently have  been,  with  favour  and  preferment.  Sharpitlaw, 
who  found  in  him  something  of  a  kindred  genius,  had  been 
intercessor  in  his  behalf  with  the  magistrates,  and  the  circum- 
stance of  his  having  voluntarily  remained  in  the  prison,  when 
the  doors  were  forced  by  the  mob,  would  have  made  it  a  hard 
measure  to  take  the  life  which  he  had  such  easy  means  of  sav- 
ing. He  received  a  full  pardon ;  and  soon  afterwards,  James 
Ratcliffe,  the  greatest  thief  and  housebreaker  in  Scotland, 
was,  upon  the  faith,  perhaps,  of  an  ancient  proverb,  selected 
as  a  person  to  be  entrusted  with  the  custody  of  other  delin- 
quents. 

When  Ratcliffe  was  thus  placed  in  a  confidential  situation, 
he  was  repeatedly  applied  to  by  the  sapient  Saddletree  and 
others  who  took  some  interest  in  the  Deans  family,  to  procure 
an  interview  between  the  sisters;  but  the  magistrates,  who 
were  extremely  anxious  for  the  apprehension  of  Robertson, 
had  given  strict  orders  to  the  contrary,  hoping  that,  by  keep- 
ing them  separate,  they  might,  from  the  one  or  the  other, 
extract  some  information  respecting  that  fugitive.  On  this 
subject  Jeanie  had  nothing  to  tell  them.  She  informed  Mr. 
Middleburgh  that  she  knew  nothing  of  Robertson  except  hav- 
ing met  him  that  night  by  appointment  to  give  her  some  ad- 
vice respecting  her  sister's  concern,  the  purport  of  which,  she 
said,  was  betwixt  God  and  her  conscience.  Of  his  motions, 
purposes,  or  plans,  past,  present,  or  future,  she  knew  nothing, 
and  so  had  nothing  to  communicate. 

Erne  was  equally  silent,  though  from  a  different  cause.  It 
was  in  vain  that  they  offered  a  commutation  and  alleviation 
of  her  punishment,  and  even  a  free  pardon,  if  she  would  con- 
fess what  she  knew  of  her  lover.  She  answered  only  with 
tears ;  unless,  when  at  times  driven  into  pettish  sulkiness  by 
the  persecution  of  the  interrogators,  she  made  them  abrupt 
and  disrespectful  answers. 

At  length,  after  her  trial  had  been  delayed  for  many  weeks, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


241 


in  hopes  she  might  be  induced  to  speak  out  on  a  subject  infi- 
nitely more  interesting  to  the  magistracy  than  her  own  guilt 
or  innocence,  their  patience  was  worn  out,  and  even  Mr.  Mid- 
dleburgh  finding  no  ear  lent  to  further  intercession  in  her 
behalf,  the  day  was  fixed  for  the  trial  to  proceed. 

It  was  now,  and  not  sooner,  that  Sharpitlaw,  recollecting 
his  promise  to  Effie  Deans,  or  rather  being  dinned  into  com- 
pliance by  the  unceasing  remonstrances  of  Mrs.  Saddletree, 
who  was  his  next-door  neighbour,  and  who  declared  "  it  was 
heathen  cruelty  to  keep  the  twa  broken-hearted  creatures  sep- 
arate," issued  the  important  mandate  permitting  them  to  see 
each  other. 

On  the  evening  which  preceded  the  eventful  day  of  trial, 
Jeanie  was  permitted  to  see  her  sister — an  awful  interview, 
and  occurring  at  a  most  distressing  crisis.  This,  however, 
formed  a  part  of  the  bitter  cup  which  she  was  doomed  to 
drink,  to  atone  for  crimes  and  follies  to  which  she  had  no  ac- 
cession; and  at  twelve  o'clock  noon,  being  the  time  appointed 
for  admission  to  the  jail,  she  went  to  meet,  for  the  first  time 
for  several  months,  her  guilty,  erring,  and  most  miserable  sis- 
ter, in  that  abode  of  guilt,  error,  and  utter  misery. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Sweet  sister,  let  me  live ! 
What  sin  you  do  to  save  a  brother's  life, 
Nature  dispenses  with  the  deed  so  far, 
That  it  becomes  a  virtue. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

Jeanie  Deans  was  admitted  into  the  jail  by  Eatcliffe. 
This  fellow,  as  void  of  shame  as  of  honesty,  as  he  opened  the 
now  trebly  secured  door,  asked  her,  with  a  leer  which  made 
her  shudder,  "whether  she  remembered  him?" 

A  half -pronounced  and  timid  "  No"  was  her  answer. 

"What!  not  remember  moonlight,  and  Muschat's  Cairn, 
and  Eob  and  Eat?"  said  he,  with  the  same  sneer.    "  Your 
memory  needs  redding  up,  my  jo." 
16 


242 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


If  Jeanie' s  distresses  had  admitted  of  aggravation,  it  must 
have  been  to  find  her  sister  under  the  charge  of  such  a  profli- 
gate as  this  man.  He  was  not,  indeed,  without  something  of 
good  to  balance  so  much  that  was  evil  in  his  character  and 
habits.  In  his  misdemeanours  he  had  never  been  bloodthirsty 
or  cruel ;  and  in  his  present  occupation  he  had  shown  himself, 
in  a  certain  degree,  accessible  to  touches  of  humanity.  But 
these  good  qualities  were  unknown  to  Jeanie,  who,  remember- 
ing the  scene  at  Muschat's  Cairn,  could  scarce  find  voice  to 
acquaint  him  that  she  had  an  order  from  Bailie  Middleburgh, 
permitting  her  to  see  her  sister. 

"  I  ken  that  fu'  weel,  my  bonny  doo ;  mair  by  token,  I  have 
a  special  charge  to  stay  in  the  ward  with  you  a'  the  time  ye 
are  thegither." 

"Must  that  be  sae?"  asked  Jeanie,  with  an  imploring  voice. 

"  Hout,  ay,  ninny, "  replied  the  turnkey ;  "  and  what  the 
waur  will  you  and  your  tittie  be  of  Jim  Ratcliffe  hearing  what 
ye  hae  to  say  to  ilk  other?  Deil  a  word  ye'll  say  that  will 
gar  him  ken  your  kittle  sex  better  than  he  kens  them  already ; 
and  another  thing  is,  that,  if  ye  dinna  speak  o'  breaking  the 
tolbooth,  deil  a  word  will  I  tell  ower,  either  to  do  ye  good 
or  ill." 

Thus  saying,  Batcliffe  marshalled  her  the  way  to  the  apart- 
ment where  Erne  was  confined. 

Shame,  fear,  and  grief  had  contended  for  mastery  in  the 
poor  prisoner's  bosom  during  the  whole  morning,  while  she 
had  looked  forward  to  this  meeting ;  but  when  the  door  opened, 
all  gave  way  to  a  confused  and  strange  feeling  that  had  a  tinge 
of  joy  in  it,  as,  throwing  herself  on  her  sister's  neck,  she  ejacu- 
lated, "  My  dear  Jeanie!  my  dear  Jeanie!  it's  lang  since  I  hae 
seen  ye."  Jeanie  returned  the  embrace  with  an  earnestness 
that  partook  almost  of  rapture,  but  it  was  only  a  flitting  emo- 
tion, like  a  sunbeam  unexpectedly  penetrating  betwixt  the 
clouds  of  a  tempest,  and  obscured  almost  as  soon  as  visible. 
The  sisters  walked  together  to  the  side  of  the  pallet  bed,  and 
sate  down  side  by  side,  took  hold  of  each  other's  hands,  and 
looked  each  other  in  the  face,  but  without  speaking  a  word. 
In  this  posture  they  remained  for  a  minute,  while  the  gleam 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


243 


of  joy  gradually  faded  from  their  features,  and  gave  way  to 
the  most  intense  expression,  first  of  melancholy,  and  then  of 
agony,  till,  throwing  themselves  again  into  each  other's  arms, 
they,  to  use  the  language  of  Scripture,  lifted  up  their  voices 
and  wept  bitterly. 

Even  the  hard-hearted  turnkey,  who  had  spent  his  life  in 
scenes  calculated  to  stifle  both  conscience  and  feeling,  could 
not  witness  this  scene  without  a  touch  of  human  sympathy. 
It  was  shown  in  a  trifling  action,  but  which  had  more  delicacy 
in  it  than  seemed  to  belong  to  Ratcliffe's  character  and  sta- 
tion. The  unglazed  window  of  the  miserable  chamber  was 
open,  and  the  beams  of  a  bright  sun  fell  right  upon  the  bed 
where  the  sufferers  were  seated.  With  a  gentleness  that  had 
something  of  reverence  in  it,  Ratcliffe  partly  closed  the  shut- 
ter, and  seemed  thus  to  throw  a  veil  over  a  scene  so  sorrowful. 

"  Ye  are  ill,  Erne, "  were  the  first  words  Jeanie  could  utter 
— aye  are  very  ill." 

"Oh,  what  wad  I  gie  to  be  ten  times  waur,  Jeanie!"  was 
the  reply — "  what  wad  I  gie  to  be  cauld  dead  afore  the  ten 
o'clock  bell  the  morn!  And  our  father — but  I  am  his  bairn 
nae  langer  now !  Oh,  I  hae  nae  friend  left  in  the  warld !  Oh 
that  I  were  lying  dead  at  my  mother's  side  in  Newbattle 
kirkyard!" 

"  Hout,  lassie, "  said  Ratcliffe,  willing  to  show  the  interest 
which  he  absolutely  felt,  "  dinna  be  sae  dooms  down-hearted 
as  a'  that;  there's  mony  a  tod  hunted  that's  no  killed.  Ad- 
vocate Langtale  has  brought  folk  through  waur  snappers  than 
a'  this,  and  there's  no  a  cleverer  agent  than  Mchil  ISTovit  e'er 
drew  a  bill  of  suspension.  Hanged  or  unhanged,  they  are 
weel  aff  has  sic  an  agent  and  counsel;  ane's  sure  o'  fair  play. 
Ye  are  a  bonny  lass,  too,  an  ye  wad  busk  up  your  cockernonie 
a  bit;  and  a  bonny  lass  will  find  favour  wi?  judge  and  jury, 
when  they  would  strap  up  a  grewsome  carle  like  me  for  the 
fifteenth  part  of  a  flea's  hide  and  tallow,  d — n  them." 

To  this  homely  strain  of  consolation  the  mourners  returned 
no  answer;  indeed,  they  were  so  much  lost  in  their  own 
sorrows  as  to  have  become  insensible  of  Ratcliffe's  presence. 
"Oh,  Erne,"  said  her  elder  sister,  "how  could  you  conceal 


244  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

your  situation  from  me?  Oh,  woman,  had  I  deserved  this  at 
your  hand?  Had  ye  spoke  but  ae  word — sorry  we  might  hae 
been,  and  ashamed  we  might  hae  been,  but  this  awfu'  dispen- 
sation had  never  come  ower  us." 

"  And  what  gude  wad  that  hae  dune?"  answered  the  pris- 
oner. "Na,  na,  Jeanie,  a'  was  ower  when  ance  I  forgot  what 
I  promised  when  I  f aulded  down  the  leaf  of  my  Bible.  See, " 
she  said,  producing  the  sacred  volume,  "the  book  opens  aye 
at  the  place  o'  itsell.  Oh  see,  Jeanie,  what  a  fearfu'  scripture!" 

Jeanie  took  her  sister's  Bible  and  found  that  the  fatal  mark 
was  made  at  this  impressive  text  in  the  book  of  Job :  "  He 
hath  stripped  me  of  my  glory,  and  taken  the  crown  from  my 
head.  He  hath  destroyed  me  on  every  side,  and  I  am  gone. 
And  mine  hope  hath  he  removed  like  a  tree. " 

"Isna  that  ower  true  a  doctrine?"  said  the  prisoner:  "  isna 
my  crown,  my  honour  removed?  And  what  am  1  but  a  poor 
wasted,  wan-thriven  tree,  dug  up  by  the  roots  and  flung  out 
to  waste  in  the  highway,  that  man  and  beast  may  tread  it 
under  foot?  I  thought  o'  the  bonny  bit  thorn  that  our  father 
rooted  out  o'  the  yard  last  May,  when  it  had  a'  the  flush  o? 
blossoms  on  it ;  and  then  it  lay  in  the  court  till  the  beasts  had 
trod  them  a'  to  pieces  wi'  their  feet.  I  little  thought,  when 
I  was  wae  for  the  bit  silly  green  bush  and  its  flowers,  that  I 
was  to  gang  the  same  gate  mysell." 

"  Oh,  if  ye  had  spoken  a  word, "  again  sobbed  Jeanie — "  if 
I  were  free  to  swear  that  ye  had  said  but  ae  word  of  how  it 
stude  wi'  ye,  they  couldna  hae  touched  your  life  this  day." 

"  Could  they  na?"  said  Effie,  with  something  like  awakened 
interest,  for  life  is  dear  even  to  those  who  feel  it  as  a  burden. 
"  Wha  tauld  ye  that,  Jeanie?" 

"It  was  ane  that  kenn'd  what  he  was  saying  weel  eneugh," 
replied  Jeanie,  who  had  a  natural  reluctance  at  mentioning 
even  the  name  of  her  sister's  seducer. 

"Wha  was  it?  I  conjure  ye  to  tell  me,"  said  Effie,  seating 
herself  upright.  "  Wha  could  tak  interest  in  sic  a  cast-bye  as 
I  am  now?    Was  it — was  it  him  ?" 

"Hout,"  said  Eatcliffe,  "what  signifies  keeping  the  poor 
lassie  in  a  swither?    Fse  uphaud  it's  been  Eobertson  that 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


245 


learned  ye  that  doctrine  when  ye  saw  him  at  Muschat's 
Cairn. " 

"  Was  it  him?"  said  Effiie,  catching  eagerly  at  his  words — 
"was  it  him,  Jeanie,  indeed?  Oh,  I  see  it  was  him,  poor 
lad;  and  I  was  thinking  his  heart  was  as  hard  as  the  nether 
millstane;  and  him  in  sic  danger  on  his  ain  part — poor 
George!" 

Somewhat  indignant  at  this  burst  of  tender  feeling  towards 
the  anthor  of  her  misery,  Jeanie  could  not  help  exclaiming : 
"Oh,  Effie,  how  can  ye  speak  that  gate  of  sic  a  man  as 
that?" 

"  We  maun  f orgie  our  enemies,  ye  ken, "  said  poor  Effie, 
with  a  timid  look  and  a  subdued  voice;  for  her  conscience 
told  her  what  a  different  character  the  feelings  with  which 
she  still  regarded  her  seducer  bore,  compared  with  the  Chris- 
tian charity  under  which  she  attempted  to  veil  it. 

"  And  ye  hae  suffered  a'  this  for  him,  and  ye  can  think  of 
loving  him  still?"  said  her  sister,  in  a  voice  betwixt  pity  and 
blame. 

"  Love  him!"  answered  Effie.  "  If  I  hadna  loved  as  woman 
seldom  loves,  I  hadna  been  within  these  wa' s  this  day ;  and 
trow  ye  that  love  sic  as  mine  is  lightly  forgotten?  Ha,  na, 
ye  may  hew  down  the  tree,  but  ye  canna  change  its  bend. 
And  oh,  Jeanie,  if  ye  wad  do  good  to  me  at  this  moment,  tell 
me  every  word  that  he  said,  and  whether  he  was  sorry  for 
poor  Effie  or  no!" 

"  What  needs  I  tell  ye  ony  thing  about  it, "  said  Jeanie. 
"  Ye  may  be  sure  he  had  ower  muckle  to  do  to  save  himsell, 
to  speak  lang  or  muckle  about  ony  body  beside." 

" That's  no  true,  Jeanie,  though  a  saunt  had  said  it,"  re- 
plied Effie,  with  a  sparkle  of  her  former  lively  and  irritable 
temper.  "  But  ye  dinna  ken,  though  I  do,  how  far  he  pat 
his  life  in  venture  to  save  mine."  And  looking  at  Ratcliffe, 
she  checked  herself  and  was  silent. 

"  I  fancy, "  said  Eatcliff e,  with  one  of  his  familiar  sneers, 
"  the  lassie  thinks  that  naebody  has  een  but  hersell.  Didna 
I  see  when  Gentle  Geordie  was  seeking  to  get  other  folk  out 
of  the  tolbooth  forbye  Jock  Porteous?   But  ye  are  of  my  mind, 


246 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ninny :  better  sit  and  rue  than  flit  and  rue.  Ye  needna  look 
in  my  face  sae  amazed.    I  ken  mair  things  than  that,  maybe." 

"  0  my  God!  my  God!"  said  Effie,  springing  up  and  throw- 
ing herself  down  on  her  knees  before  him.  "  D'ye  ken  where 
they  hae  putten  my  bairn?  O  my  bairn!  my  bairn!  the  poor 
sackless  innocent  new-born  wee  ane — bone  of  my  bone,  and 
flesh  of  my  flesh!  O  man,  if  ye  wad  e'er  deserve  a  portion 
in  heaven,  or  a  broken-hearted  creature's  blessing  upon 
earth,  tell  me  where  they  hae  put  my  bairn — the  sign  of  my 
shame,  and  the  partner  of  my  suffering!  tell  me  wha  has  taen't 
away,  or  what  they  hae  dune  wi't!" 

"  Hout  tout, "  said  the  turnkey,  endeavouring  to  extricate 
himself  from  the  firm  grasp  with  which  she  held  him,  "that's 
taking  me  at  my  word  wi'  a  witness.  Bairn,  quo'  she?  How 
the  deil  suld  I  ken  ony  thing  of  your  bairn,  huzzy  ?  Ye  maun 
ask  that  of  auld  Meg  Murdockson,  if  ye  dinna  ken  ower  muckle 
about  it  yoursell." 

As  his  answer  destroyed  the  wild  and  vague  hope  which  had 
suddenly  gleamed  upon  her,  the  unhappy  prisoner  let  go  her 
hold  of  his  coat,  and  fell  with  her  face  on  the  pavement  of  the 
apartment  in  a  strong  convulsion  fit. 

Jeanie  Deans  possessed,  with  her  excellently  clear  under- 
standing, the  concomitant  advantage  of  promptitude  of  spirit, 
even  in  the  extremity  of  distress. 

She  did  not  suffer  herself  to  be  overcome  by  her  own  feel- 
ings of  exquisite  sorrow,  but  instantly  applied  herself  to  her 
sister's  relief,  with  the  readiest  remedies  which  circumstances 
afforded;  and  which,  to  do  Ratcliffe  justice,  he  showed  him- 
self anxious  to  suggest,  and  alert  in  procuring.  He  had  even 
the  delicacy  to  withdraw  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room, 
so  as  to  render  his  official  attendance  upon  them  as  little  in- 
trusive as  possible,  when  Effie  was  composed  enough  again  to 
resume  her  conference  with  her  sister. 

The  prisoner  once  more,  in  the  most  earnest  and  broken 
tones,  conjured  Jeanie  to  tell  her  the  particulars  of  the  con- 
ference with  Robertson,  and  Jeanie  felt  it  was  impossible  to 
refuse  her  this  gratification. 

"  Do  ye  mind, "  said  she,  "  Effie,  when  ye  were  in  the  fever 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


247 


before  we  left  Woodend,  and  how  angry  your  mother,  that's 
now  in  a  better  place,  was  wi'  rne  for  gieing  ye  milk  and  water 
to  drink,  because  ye  grat  for  it?  Ye  were  a  bairn  then,  and 
ye  are  a  woman  now,  and  should  ken  better  than  ask  what 
canna  but  hurt  you.  But  come  weal  or  woe,  I  canna  refuse 
ye  ony  thing  that  ye  ask  me  wi'  the  tear  in  your  ee. " 

Again  Effie  threw  herself  into  her  arms,  and  kissed  her 
cheek  and  forehead,  murmuring:  "  Oh  if  ye  kenn'd  how  lang 
it  is  since  I  heard  his  name  mentioned!  if  ye  but  kenn'd  how 
muckle  good  it  does  me  but  to  ken  ony  thing  o'  him  that's 
like  goodness  or  kindness,  ye  wadna  wonder  that  I  wish  to 
hear  o'  him!" 

Jeanie  sighed,  and  commenced  her  narrative  of  all  that  had 
passed  betwixt  Eobertson  and  her,  making  it  as  brief  as  pos- 
silbe.  Effie  listened  in  breathless  anxiety,  holding  her  sister's 
hand  in  hers,  and  keeping  her  eye  fixed  upon  her  face,  as  if 
devouring  every  word  she  uttered.  The  interjections  of  "  Poor 
fellow!" — "Poor  George!"  which  escaped  in  whispers,  and  be- 
twixt sighs,  were  the  only  sounds  with  which  she  interrupted 
the  story.    When  it  was  finished  she  made  a  long  pause. 

"And  this  was  his  advice?"  were  the  first  words  she  ut- 
tered. 

"  Just  sic  as  I  hae  tell'd  ye,"  replied  her  sister. 

"  And  he  wanted  you  to  say  something  to  yon  folks  that 
wad  save  my  young  life?" 

"He  wanted,"  answered  Jeanie,  "that  I  suld  be  man- 
sworn.  " 

"  And  you  tauld  him, "  said  Effie,  "  that  ye  wadna  hear  o' 
coming  between  me  and  the  death  that  I  am  to  die,  and  me  no 
aughteen  year  auld  yet?" 

"I  told  him,"  replied  Jeanie,  who  now  trembled  at  the 
turn  which  her  sister's  reflections  seemed  about  to  take,  "that 
I  daured  na  swear  to  an  untruth. " 

"And  what  d'ye  ca'  an  untruth?"  said  Effie,  again  show- 
ing a  touch  of  her  former  spirit.  "  Ye  are  muckle  to  blame, 
lass,  if  ye  think  a  mother  would,  or  could,  murder  her  ain 
bairn.  Murder!  I  wad  hae  laid  down  my  life  just  to  see  a 
blink  o'  its  ee!" 


248 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  I  do  believe/'  said  Jeanie,  "that  ye  are  as  innocent  of  sic 
a  purpose  as  the  new-born  babe  itsell." 

"I  am  glad  ye  do  me  that  justice,"  said  Erne,  haughtily; 
"it's  whiles  the  faut  of  very  good  folk  like  you,  Jeanie,  that 
they  think  a'  the  rest  of  the  warld  are  as  bad  as  the  warst 
temptations  can  make  them." 

"  I  dinna  deserve  this  f rae  ye,  Efhe, 99  said  her  sister,  sob- 
bing, and  feeling  at  once  the  injustice  of  the  reproach  and 
compassion  for  the  state  of  mind  which  dictated  it. 

"  Maybe  no,  sister,"  said  Effie.  "  But  ye  are  angry  because 
I  love  Robertson.  How  can  I  help  loving  him  that  loves  me 
better  than  body  and  soul  baith?  Here  he  put  his  life  in  a 
niff er,  to  break  the  prison  to  let  me  out ;  and  sure  am  I,  had 

it  stood  wi'  him,  as  it  stands  wi'  you  99    Here  she  paused 

and  was  silent. 

"Oh,  if  it  stude  wi'  me  to  save  ye  wi'  risk  of  my  life!" 
said  Jeanie. 

"Ay,  lass,"  said  her  sister,  "that's  lightly  said,  but  no  sae 
lightly  credited,  frae  ane  that  winna  ware  a  word  for  me; 
and  if  it  be  a  wrang  word,  ye'll  hae  time  eneugh  to  repent  o't." 

"But  that  word  is  a  grievous  sin,  and  it's  a  deeper  offence 
when  it's  a  sin  wilfully  and  presumptuously  committed." 

"  Weel,  weel,  Jeanie, "  said  Effie,  "  I  mind  a'  about  the  sins 
o'  presumption  in  the  questions;  we'll  speak  nae  mair  about 
this  matter,  and  ye  may  save  your  breath  to  say  your  carritch ; 
and  for  me,  I'll  soon  hae  nae  breath  to  waste  on  ony  body." 

"I  must  needs  say,"  interposed  Ratcliffe,  "that  it's  d — d 
hard,  when  three  words  of  your  mouth  would  give  the  girl  the 
chance  to  nick  Moll  Blood,  that  you  make  such  scrupling  about 
rapping  to  them.  D — n  me,  if  they  would  take  me,  if  I 
would  not  rap  to  all  Whatd'yecallum's — Hyssop's  Fables — 
for  her  life;  I  am  us'd  to't,  b — t  me,  for  less  matters.  Why, 
I  have  smacked  calfskin  fifty  times  in  England  for  a  keg  of 
brandy." 

"Never  speak  mair  o't,"  said  the  prisoner.  "It's  just  as 
weel  as  it  is;  and  gude  day,  sister,  ye  keep  Mr.  Ratcliffe 
waiting  on.  Ye'll  come  back  and  see  me,  I  reckon,  be- 
fore "  here  she  stopped,  and  became  deadly  pale. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


249 


" And  are  we  to  part  in  this  way/'  said  Jeanie,  "and  you 
in  sic  deadly  peril?  Oh,  Effie,  look  but  up  and  say  what  ye 
wad  hae  me  do,  and  I  could  find  in  my  heart  amaist  to  say 
that  I  wad  do't." 

"  No,  Jeanie, "  replied  her  sister,  after  an  effort,  "  I  am  bet- 
ter minded  now.  At  my  best,  I  was  never  half  sae  gude  as 
ye  were,  and  what  for  suld  you  begin  to  mak  yoursell  waur  to 
save  me,  now  that  I  am  no  worth  saving?  God  knows,  that 
in  my  sober  mind  I  wadna  wuss  ony  living  creature  to  do  a 
wrang  thing  to  save  my  life.  I  might  have  fled  frae  this  tol- 
booth  on  that  awfu'  night  wi'  ane  wad  hae  carried  me  through 
the  warld,  and  friended  me,  and  fended  for  me.  But  I  said 
to  them,  let  life  gang  when  gude  fame  is  gane  before  it.  But 
this  lang  imprisonment  has  broken  my  spirit,  and  I  am  whiles 
sair  left  to  mysell,  and  then  I  wad  gie  the  Indian  mines  of 
gold  and  diamonds  just  for  life  and  breath;  for  I  think, 
Jeanie,  I  have  such  roving  fits  as  I  used  to  hae  in  the  fever; 
but  instead  of  the  fiery  een,  and  wolves,  and  Widow  Butler's 
bullsegg,  that  I  used  to  see  spelling  up  on  my  bed,  I  am 
thinking  now  about  a  high  black  gibbet,  and  me  standing  up, 
and  such  seas  of  faces  all  looking  up  at  poor  Effie  Deans,  and 
asking  if  it  be  her  that  George  Kobertson  used  to  call  the  Lily 
of  St.  Leonard's.  And  then  they  stretch  out  their  faces,  and 
make  mouths,  and  girn  at  me,  and  whichever  way  I  look,  I 
see  a  face  laughing  like  Meg  Murdockson,  when  she  tauld  me 
I  had  seen  the  last  of  my  wean.  God  preserve  us,  J'eanie, 
that  carline  has  a  fearsome  face!"  She  clapped  her  hands  be- 
fore her  eyes  as  she  uttered  this  exclamation,  as  if  to  secure 
herself  against  seeing  the  fearful  object  she  had  alluded  to. 

Jeanie  Deans  remained  with  her  sister  for  two  hours,  dur- 
ing which  she  endeavoured,  if  possible,  to  extract  something 
from  her  that  might  be  serviceable  in  her  exculpation.  But 
she  had  nothing  to  say  beyond  what  she  had  declared  on  her 
first  examination,  with  the  purport  of  which  the  reader  will 
be  made  acquainted  in  proper  time  and  place.  "  They  wadna 
believe  her, "  she  said,  "  and  she  had  naething  mair  to  tell 
them." 

At  length  Eatcliffe,  though  reluctantly,  informed  the  sis- 


250 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ters  that  there  was  a  necessity  that  they  should  part.  "  Mr. 
Novit, "  he  said,  "  was  to  see  the  prisoner,  and  maybe  Mr. 
Langtale  too.  Langtale  likes  to  look  at  a  bonny  lass,  whether 
in  prison  or  out  o'  prison." 

Reluctantly,  therefore,  and  slowly,  after  many  a  tear  and 
many  an  embrace,  Jeanie  retired  from  the  apartment,  and 
heard  its  jarring  bolts  turned  upon  the  dear  being  from  whom 
she  was  separated.  Somewhat  familiarised  now  even  with 
her  rude  conductor,  she  offered  him  a  small  present  in  money, 
with  a  request  he  would  do  what  he  could  for  her  sister's  ac- 
commodation. To  her  surprise,  Eatcliffe  declined  the  fee.  "  I 
wasna  bloody  when  I  was  on  the  pad,"  he  said,  "and  I  winna 
be  greedy — that  is,  beyond  what's  right  and  reasonable — now 
that  I  am  in  the  lock.  Keep  the  siller ;  and  for  civility,  your 
sister  sail  hae  sic  as  I  can  bestow.  But  I  hope  you'll  think 
better  on  it,  and  rap  an  oath  for  her ;  deil  a  hair  ill  there  is  in 
it,  if  ye  are  rapping  again  the  crown.  I  kenn'd  a  worthy  min- 
ister, as  gude  a  man,  bating  the  deed  they  deposed  him  for,  as 
ever  ye  heard  claver  in  a  pu'pit,  that  rapped  to  a  hogshead  of 
pigtail  tobacco,  just  for  as  muckle  as  filled  his  spleuchan.  But 
maybe  ye  are  keeping  your  ain  counsel;  weel,  weel,  there's 
nae  harm  in  that.  As  for  your  sister,  I'se  see  that  she  gets 
her  meat  clean  and  warm,  and  I'll  try  to  gar  her  lie  down 
and  take  a  sleep  after  dinner,  for  deil  a  ee  she'll  close  the 
night.  I  hae  gude  experience  of  these  matters.  The  first 
night  is  aye  the  warst  o't.  I  hae  never  heard  o'  ane  that 
sleepit  the  night  afore  trial,  but  of  mony  a  ane  that  sleepit  as 
sound  as  a  tap  the  night  before  their  necks  were  straughted. 
And  it's  nae  wonder:  the  warst  may  be  tholed  when  it's 
kenn'd.    Better  a  finger  aff  as  aye  wagging." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


251 


CHAPTEE  XXI. 

Yet  though  thou  mayst  be  dragg'd  in  scorn 

To  yonder  ignominious  tree, 
Thou  shalt  not  want  one  faithful  friend 

To  share  the  cruel  fates'  decree. 

Jemmy  Dawson. 

After  spending  the  greater  part  of  the  morning  in  his  de- 
votions, for  his  benevolent  neighbours  had  kindly  insisted  upon 
discharging  his  task  of  ordinary  labour,  David  Deans  entered 
the  apartment  when  the  breakfast  meal  was  prepared.  His 
eyes  were  involuntarily  cast  down,  for  he  was  afraid  to  look 
at  Jeanie,  uncertain  as  he  was  whether  she  might  feel  herself 
at  liberty,  with  a  good  conscience,  to  attend  the  Court  of  Jus- 
ticiary that  day,  to  give  the  evidence  which  he  understood 
that  she  possessed  in  order  to  her  sister's  exculpation.  At 
length,  after  a  minute  of  apprehensive  hesitation,  he  looked 
at  her  dress  to  discover  whether  it  seemed  to  be  in  her  con- 
templation to  go  abroad  that  morning.  Her  apparel  was  neat 
and  plain,  but  such  as  conveyed  no  exact  intimation  of  her  in- 
tentions to  go  abroad.  She  had  exchanged  her  usual  garb  for 
morning  labour  for  one  something  inferior  to  that  with  which, 
as  her  best,  she  was  wont  to  dress  herself  for  church,  or  any 
more  rare  occasion  of  going  into  society.  Her  sense  taught 
her,  that  it  was  respectful  to  be  decent  in  her  apparel  on  such 
an  occasion,  while  her  feelings  induced  her  to  lay  aside  the  use 
of  the  very  few  and  simple  personal  ornaments  which,  on  other 
occasions,  she  permitted  herself  to  wear.  So  that  there  oc- 
curred nothing  in  her  external  appearance  which  could  mark 
out  to  her  father,  with  anything  like  certainty,  her  intentions 
on  this  occasion. 

The  preparations  for  their  humble  meal  were  that  morning 
made  in  vain.  The  father  and  daughter  sat,  each  assuming 
the  appearance  of  eating  when  the  other's  eyes  were  turned 
to  them,  and  desisting  from  the  effort  with  disgust  when  the 
affectionate  imposture  seemed  no  longer  necessary. 


252 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


At  length  these  moments  of  constraint  were  removed.  The 
sound  of  St.  Giles's  heavy  toll  announced  the  hour  previous  to 
the  commencement  of  the  trial;  Jeanie  arose,  and,  with  a  de- 
gree of  composure  for  which  she  herself  could  not  account,  as- 
sumed her  plaid,  and  made  her  other  preparations  for  a  distant 
walking.  It  was  a  strange  contrast  between  the  firmness  of 
her  demeanour  and  the  vacillation  and  cruel  uncertainty  of 
purpose  indicated  in  all  her  father's  motions;  and  one  unac- 
quainted with  both  could  scarcely  have  supposed  that  the  for- 
mer was,  in  her  ordinary  habits  of  life,  a  docile,  quiet,  gentle, 
and  even  timid  country  maiden,  while  her  father,  with  a  mind 
naturally  proud  and  strong,  and  supported  by  religious  opin- 
ions of  a  stern,  stoical,  and  unyielding  character,  had  in  his 
time  undergone  and  withstood  the  most  severe  hardships  and 
the  most  imminent  peril,  without  depression  of  spirit  or  subju- 
gation of  his  constancy.  The  secret  of  this  difference  was, 
that  Jeanie' s  mind  had  already  anticipated  the  line  of  conduct 
which  she  must  adopt,  with  all  its  natural  and  necessary  con- 
sequences; while  her  father,  ignorant  of  every  other  circum- 
stance, tormented  himself  with  imagining  what  the  one  sister 
might  say  or  swear,  or  what  effect  her  testimony  might  have 
upon  the  awful  event  of  the  trial. 

He  watched  his  daughter  with  a  faltering  and  indecisive 
look,  until  she  looked  back  upon  him  with  a  look  of  unutter- 
able anguish,  as  she  was  about  to  leave  the  apartment. 

"My  dear  lassie,"  said  he,  "I  will  "  His  action,  hast- 
ily and  confusedly  searching  for  his  worsted  mittens  and  staff, 
showed  his  purpose  of  accompanying  her,  though  his  tongue 
failed  distinctly  to  announce  it. 

"Father,"  said  Jeanie,  replying  rather  to  his  action  than 
his  words,  "  ye  had  better  not. " 

"  In  the  strength  of  my  God, "  answered  Deans,  assuming 
firmness,  "I  will  go  forth." 

And,  taking  his  daughter's  arm  under  his,  he  began  to  walk 
from  the  door  with  a  step  so  hasty  that  she  was  almost  unable 
to  keep  up  with  him.  A  trifling  circumstance,  but  which 
marked  the  perturbed  state  of  his  mind,  checked  his  course. 
"Your  bonnet,  father?"  said  Jeanie,  who  observed  he  had 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


253 


come  out  with  his  grey  hairs  uncovered.  He  turned  back  with 
a  slight  blush  on  his  cheek,  being  ashamed  to  have  been  de- 
tected in  an  omission  which  indicated  so  much  mental  confu- 
sion, assumed  his  large  blue  Scottish  bonnet,  and  with  a  step 
slower,  but  more  composed,  as  if  the  circumstance  had  obliged 
him  to  summon  up  his  resolution  and  collect  his  scattered 
ideas,  again  placed  his  daughter's  arm  under  his,  and  resumed 
the  way  to  Edinburgh. 

The  courts  of  justice  were  then,  and  are  still,  held  in  what 
is  called  the  Parliament  Close,  or,  according  to  modern  phrase, 
the  Parliament  Square,  and  occupied  the  buildings  intended 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  Scottish  Estates.  This  edifice, 
though  in  an  imperfect  and  corrupted  style  of  architecture, 
had  then  a  grave,  decent,  and,  as  it  were,  a  judicial  aspect, 
which  was  at  least  entitled  to  respect  from  its  antiquity ;  for 
which  venerable  front,  I  observed,  on  my  last  occasional  visit 
to  the  metropolis,  that  modern  taste  had  substituted,  at  great 
apparent  expense,  a  pile  so  utterly  inconsistent  with  every 
monument  of  antiquity  around,  and  in  itself  so  clumsy  at  the 
same  time  and  fantastic,  that  it  may  be  likened  to  the  decora- 
tions of  Tom  Errand,  the  porter,  in  the  Trip  to  the  Jubilee, 
when  he  appears  bedizened  with  the  tawdry  finery  of  Beau 
Clincher.     Sed  trans  eat  cum  cceteris  erroribus. 

The  small  quadrangle,  or  close,  if  we  may  presume  still  to 
give  it  that  appropriate  though  antiquated  title,  which  at 
Litchfield,  Salisbury,  and  elsewhere  is  properly  applied  to 
designate  the  inclosure  adjacent  to  a  cathedral,  already  evinced 
tokens  of  the  fatal  scene  which  was  that  day  to  be  acted.  The 
soldiers  of  the  City  Guard  were  on  their  posts,  now  enduring, 
and  now  rudely  repelling  with  the  butts  of  their  muskets,  the 
motley  crew  who  thrust  each  other  forward,  to  catch  a  glance 
at  the  unfortunate  object  of  trial,  as  she  should  pass  from  the 
adjacent  prison  to  the  court  in  which  her  fate  was  to  be  deter- 
mined. All  must  have  occasionally  observed,  with  disgust, 
the  apathy  with  which  the  vulgar  gaze  on  scenes  of  this  na- 
ture, and  how  seldom,  unless  when  their  sympathies  are  called 
forth  by  some  striking  and  extraordinary  circumstance,  the 
crowd  evince  any  interest  deeper  than  that  of  callous,  unthink- 


254 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ing  bustle  and  brutal  curiosity.  They  laugh,  jest,  quarrel, 
and  push  each  other  to  and  fro,  with  the  same  unfeeling  in- 
difference as  if  they  were  assembled  for  some  holiday  sport, 
or  to  see  an  idle  procession.  Occasionally,  however,  this  de- 
meanour, so  natural  to  the  degraded  populace  of  a  large  town, 
is  exchanged  for  a  temporary  touch  of  human  affections ;  and 
so  it  chanced  on  the  present  occasion. 

When  Deans  and  his  daughter  presented  themselves  in  the 
close,  and  endeavoured  to  make  their  way  forward  to  the  door 
of  the  court-house,  they  became  involved  in  the  mob,  and  sub- 
ject, of  course,  to  their  insolence.  As  Deans  repelled  with 
some  force  the  rude  pushes  which  he  received  on  all  sides,  his 
figure  and  antiquated  dress  caught  the  attention  of  the  rab- 
ble, who  often  show  an  intuitive  sharpness  in  ascribing  the 
proper  character  from  external  appearance. 

"  Ye' re  welcome,  Whigs, 
Frae  Bothwell  Briggs," 

sung  one  fellow,  for  the  mob  of  Edinburgh  were  at  that  time 
Jacobitically  disposed,  probably  because  that  was  the  line  of 
sentiment  most  diametrically  opposite  to  existing  authority. 

"  Mess  David  Williamson, 
Chosen  of  twenty, 
Ran  up  the  pu'pit  stair, 
And  sang  Killiecrankie," 

chanted  a  siren,  whose  profession  might  be  guessed  by  her 
appearance.  A  tattered  cadie  or  errand  porter,  whom  David 
Deans  had  jostled  in  his  attempt  to  extricate  himself  from  the 
vicinity  of  these  scorners,  exclaimed  in  a  strong  north-country 
tone :  "  Ta  deil  ding  out  her  Cameronian  een !  What  gies  her 
titles  to  dunch  gentlemans  about  ?" 

"  Make  room  for  the  ruling  elder, "  said  yet  another ;  "  he 
comes  to  see  a  precious  sister  glorify  God  in  the  Grassmarket !" 

"Whisht!  shame's  in  ye,  sirs,"  said  the  voice  of  a  man  very 
loudly,  which,  as  quickly  sinking,  said  in  a  low,  but  distinct 
tone:  "  It's  her  father  and  sister." 

All  fell  back  to  make  way  for  the  sufferers ;  and  all,  even 
the  very  rudest  and  most  profligate,  were  struck  with  shame 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


255 


and  silence.  In  the  space  thus  abandoned  to  them  by  the 
mob,  Deans  stood,  holding  his  daughter  by  the  hand,  and  said 
to  her,  with  a  countenance  strongly  and  sternly  expressive  of 
his  internal  emotions,  "  Ye  hear  with  your  ears,  and  ye  see 
with  your  eyes,  where  and  to  whom  the  backslidings  and  de- 
fections of  professors  are  ascribed  by  the  scoffers.  Not  to 
themselves  alone,  but  to  the  kirk  of  which  they  are  members, 
and  to  its  blessed  and  invisible  Head.  Then,  weel  may  we 
take  wi?  patience  our  share  and  portion  of  this  outspreading 
reproach." 

The  man  who  had  spoken,  no  other  than  our  old  friend 
Dumbiedikes,  whose  mouth,  like  that  of  the  prophet's  ass, 
had  been  opened  by  the  emergency  of  the  case,  now  joined 
them,  and,  with  his  usual  taciturnity,  escorted  them  into  the 
court-house.  £lo  opposition  was  offered  to  their  entrance, 
either  by  th^  guards  or  doorkeepers ;  and  it  is  even  said  that 
one  of  the  latter  refused  a  shilling  of  civility-money,  tendered 
him  by  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  who  was  of  opinion  that 
"siller  wad  mak  a'  easy."  But  this  last  incident  wants  con- 
firmation. 

Admitted  within  the  precincts  of  the  court-house,  they 
found  the  usual  number  of  busy  office-bearers  and  idle  loi- 
terers, who  attend  on  these  scenes  by  choice  or  from  duty. 
Burghers  gaped  and  stared ;  young  lawyers  sauntered,  sneered, 
and  laughed,  as  in  the  pit  of  the  theatre ;  while  others  apart 
sat  on  a  bench  retired  and  reasoned  highly,  inter  apices  juris, 
on  the  doctrines  of  constructive  crime  and  the  true  import  of 
the  statute.  The  bench  was  prepared  for  the  arrival  of  the 
judges.  The  jurors  were  in  attendance.  The  crown  counsel, 
employed  in  looking  over  their  briefs  and  notes  of  evidence, 
looked  grave  and  whispered  with  each  other.  They  occupied 
one  side  of  a  large  table  placed  beneath  the  bench ;  on  the  other 
sat  the  advocates,  whom  the  humanity  of  the  Scottish  law,  in 
this  particular  more  liberal  than  that  of  the  sister  country,  not 
only  permits,  but  enjoins,  to  appear  and  assist  with  their  advice 
and  skill  all  persons  under  trial.  Mr.  Nichil  Novit  was  seen 
actively  instructing  the  counsel  for  the  panel — so  the  prisoner 
is  called  in  Scottish  law-phraseology — busy,  bustling,  and  im- 


256  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

portant.  When  they  entered  the  court-room,  Deans  asked  the 
Laird,  in  a  tremulous  whisper:  "Where  will  she  sit?" 

Dumbiedikes  whispered  Novit,  who  pointed  to  a  vacant  space 
at  the  bar,  fronting  the  judges,  and  was  about  to  conduct 
Deans  towards  it. 

"No!"  he  said;  "I  cannot  sit  by  her;  I  cannot  own  her — 
not  as  yet,  at  least.  I  will  keep  out  of  her  sight,  and  turn 
mine  own  eyes  elsewhere ;  better  for  us  baith. " 

Saddletree,  whose  repeated  interference  with  the  counsel 
had  procured  him  one  or  two  rebuffs,  and  a  special  request 
that  he  would  concern  himself  with  his  own  matters,  now  saw 
with  pleasure  an  opportunity  of  playing  the  person  of  impor- 
tance. He  bustled  up  to  the  poor  old  man,  and  proceeded  to 
exhibit  his  consequence,  by  securing,  through  his  interest  with 
the  bar-keepers  and  macers,  a  seat  for  Deans  in  a  situation 
where  he  was  hidden  from  the  general  eye  by  the  projecting 
corner  of  the  bench. 

"It's  gude  to  have  a  friend  at  court,"  he  said,  continuing 
his  heartless  harangues  to  the  passive  auditor,  who  neither 
heard  nor  replied  to  them ;  "  few  folk  but  mysell  could  hae 
sorted  ye  out  a  seat  like  this.  The  Lords  will  be  here  incon- 
tinent, and  proceed  instanter  to  trial.  They  wunna  fence  the 
court  as  they  do  at  the  circuit.  The  High  Court  of  Justiciary 
is  aye  fenced.  But,  Lord's  sake,  what's  this  o't?  Jeanie, 
ye  are  a  cited  witness.  Macer,  this  lass  is  a  witness;  she 
maun  be  inclosed;  she  maun  on  nae  account  be  at  large.  Mr. 
Novit,  suldna  Jeanie  Deans  be  inclosed?" 

rTovit  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  offered  to  conduct 
Jeanie  to  the  apartment  where,  according  to  the  scrupulous 
practice  of  the  Scottish  court,  the  witnesses  remain  in  readi- 
ness to  be  called  into  court  to  give  evidence ;  and  separated, 
at  the  same  time,  from  all  who  might  influence  their  testi- 
mony, or  give  them  information  concerning  that  which  was 
passing  upon  the  trial.* 

"Is  this  necessary?"  said  Jeanie,  still  reluctant  to  quit  her 
father's  hand. 

"  A  matter  of  absolute  needcessity, "  said  Saddletree ;  "  wha 
ever  heard  of  witnesses  no  being  inclosed?" 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


257 


"  It  is  really  a  matter  of  necessity, "  said  the  younger  coun- 
sellor retained  for  her  sister ;  and  Jeanie  reluctantly  followed 
the  macer  of  the  court  to  the  place  appointed. 

"This,  Mr.  Deans,"  said  Saddletree,  "  is  ca'd  sequestering 
a  witness;  but  it's  clean  different,  whilk  maybe  ye  wadna 
fund  out  o'  yoursell,  frae  sequestering  ane's  estate  or  effects, 
as  in  cases  of  bankruptcy.  I  hae  aften  been  sequestered  as 
a  witness,  for  the  sheriff  is  in  the  use  whiles  to  cry  me  in  to 
witness  the  declarations  at  precognitions,  and  so  is  Mr.  Sharp- 
itlaw;  but  I  was  ne'er  like  to  be  sequestered  o?  land  and 
gudes  but  ance,  and  that  was  lang  syne,  afore  I  was  married. 
But  whisht,  whisht!  here's  the  Court  coming." 

As  he  spoke,  the  five  Lords  of  Justiciary,  in  their  long 
robes  of  scarlet,  faced  with  white,  and  preceded  by  their  mace- 
bearer,  entered  with  the  usual  formalities,  and  took  their 
places  upon  the  bench  of  judgment. 

The  audience  rose  to  receive  them;  and  the  bustle  occa- 
sioned by  their  entrance  was  hardly  composed,  when  a  great 
noise  and  confusion  of  persons  struggling,  and  forcibly  en- 
deavouring to  enter  at  the  doors  of  the  court-room  and  of  the 
galleries,  announced  that,  the  prisoner  was  about  to  be  placed 
at  the  bar.  This  tumult  takes  place  when  the  doors,  at  first 
only  opened  to  those  either  having  right  to  be  present  or  to 
the  better  and  more  qualified  ranks,  are  at  length  laid  open 
to  all  whose  curiosity  induces  them  to  be  present  on  the  occa- 
sion. With  inflamed  countenances  and  dishevelled  dresses, 
struggling  with  and  sometimes  tumbling  over  each  other,  in 
rushed  the  rude  multitude,  while  a  few  soldiers,  forming,  as 
it  were,  the  centre  of  the  tide,  could  scarce,  with  all  their 
efforts,  clear  a  passage  for  the  prisoner  to  the  place  which  she 
was  to  occupy.  By  the  authority  of  the  Court  and  the  exer- 
tions of  its  officers,  the  tumult  among  the  spectators  was  at 
length  appeased,  and  the  unhappy  girl  brought  forward,  and 
placed  betwixt  two  sentinels  with  drawn  bayonets,  as  a  pris- 
oner at  the  bar,  where  she  was  to  abide  her  deliverance  for 
good  or  evil,  according  to  the  issue  of  her  trial. 
17 


258 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

We  have  strict  statutes,  and  most  biting  laws — 
The  needful  bits  and  curbs  for  headstrong  steeds — 
Which,  for  these  fourteen  years,  we  have  let  sleep, 
Like  to  an  o'ergrown  lion  in  a  cave 
That  goes  not  out  to  prey. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

"  Euphemi a  Deans,  "  said  the  presiding  Judge,  in  an  ac- 
cent in  which  pity  was  blended  with  dignity,  "  stand  up  and 
listen  to  the  criminal  indictment  now  to  be  preferred  against 
you. " 

The  unhappy  girl,  who  had  been  stupified  by  the  confusion 
through  which  the  guards  had  forced  a  passage,  cast  a  bewil- 
dered look  on  the  multitude  of  faces  around  her,  which  seemed 
to  tapestry,  as  it  were,  the  walls,  in  one  broad  slope  from  the 
ceiling  to  the  floor,  with  human  countenances,  and  instinctively 
obeyed  a  command  which  rung  in  her  ears  like  the  trumpet  of 
the  judgment-day. 

"Put  back  your  hair,  Effie,"  said  one  of  the  macers.  For 
her  beautiful  and  abundant  tresses  of  long  fair  hair,  which, 
according  to  the  costume  of  the  country,  unmarried  women 
were  not  allowed  to  cover  with  any  sort  of  cap,  and  which, 
alas !  Effie  dared  no  longer  confine  with  the  snood  or  ribband 
which  implied  purity  of  maiden-fame,  now  hung  unbound  and 
dishevelled  over  her  face,  and  almost  concealed  her  features. 
On  receiving  this  hint  from  the  attendant,  the  unfortunate 
yong  woman,  with  a  hasty,  trembling,  and  apparently  me- 
chanical compliance,  shaded  back  from  her  face  her  luxuriant 
locks,  and  showed  to  the  whole  court,  excepting  one  individ- 
ual, a  countenance  which,  though  pale  and  emaciated,  was  so 
lovely  amid  its  agony  that  it  called  forth  an  universal  mur- 
mur of  compassion  and  sympathy.  Apparently  the  expressive 
sound  of  human  feeling  recalled  the  poor  girl  from  the  stupor 
of  fear  which  predominated  at  first  over  every  other  sensa- 
tion, and  awakened  her  to  the  no  less  painful  sense  of  shame 
and  exposure  attached  to  her  present  situation.    Her  eye. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


259 


which  had  at  first  glanced  wildly  around,  was  turned  on  the 
ground;  her  cheek,  at  first  so  deadly  pale,  began  gradually  to 
be  overspread  with  a  faint  blush,  which  increased  so  fast  that, 
when  in  agony  of  shame  she  strove  to  conceal  her  face,  her 
temples,  her  brow,  her  neck,  and  all  that  her  slender  fingers 
and  small  palms  could  not  cover,  became  of  the  deepest  crimson. 

All  marked  and  were  moved  by  these  changes,  excepting 
one.  It  was  old  Deans,  who,  motionless  in  his  seat,  and  con- 
cealed, as  we  have  said,  by  the  corner  of  the  bench,  from  see- 
ing or  being  seen,  did  nevertheless  keep  his  eyes  firmly  fixed 
on  the  ground,  as  if  determined  that,  by  no  possibility  what- 
ever, would  he  be  an  ocular  witness  of  the  shame  of  his  house. 

"Ichabod!"  he  said  to  himself — "Ichabod!  my  glory  is 
departed!" 

While  these  reflections  were  passing  through  his  mind,  the 
indictment,  which  set  forth  in  technical  form  the  crime  of 
which  the  panel  stood  accused,  was  read  as  usual,  and  the 
prisoner  was  asked  if  she  was  Guilty  or  Not  Guilty. 

"Not  guilty  of  my  poor  bairn's  death,"  said  Effie  Deans,  in 
an  accent  corresponding  in  plaintive  softness  of  tone  to  the 
beauty  of  her  features,  and  which  was  not  heard  by  the  audi- 
ence without  emotion. 

The  presiding  Judge  next  directed  the  counsel  to  plead  to 
the  relevancy ;  that  is,  to  state  on  either  part  the  arguments 
in  point  of  law,  and  evidence  in  point  of  fact,  against  and  in 
favour  of  the  criminal,  after  which  it  is  the  form  of  the  Court 
to  pronounce  a  preliminary  judgment,  sending  the  cause  to  the 
cognizance  of  the  jury  or  assize. 

The  counsel  for  the  crown  briefly  stated  the  frequency  of 
the  crime  of  infanticide,  which  had  given  rise  to  the  special 
statute  under  which  the  panel  stood  indicted.  He  mentioned 
the  various  instances,  many  of  them  marked  with  circum- 
stances of  atrocity,  which  had  at  length  induced  the  King's 
Advocate,  though  with  great  reluctance,  to  make  the  experi- 
ment, whether,  by  strictly  enforcing  the  Act  of  Parliament 
which  had  been  made  to  prevent  such  enormities,  their  occur- 
rence might  be  prevented.  "He  expected,"  he  said,  "to  be 
able  to  establish  by  witnesses,  as  well  as  by  the  declaration 


260 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  the  panel  herself,  that  she  was  in  the  state  described  by 
the  statute.  According  to  his  information,  the  panel  had 
communicated  her  pregnancy  to  no  one,  nor  did  she  allege  in 
her  own  declaration  that  she  had  done  so.  This  secrecy  was 
the  first  requisite  in  support  of  the  indictment.  The  same 
declarations  admitted  that  she  had  borne  a  male  child,  in  cir- 
cumstances which  gave  but  too  much  reason  to  believe  it  had 
died  by  the  hands,  or  at  least  with  the  knowledge  or  consent, 
of  the  unhappy  mother.  It  was  not,  however,  necessary  for 
him  to  bring  positive  proof  that  the  panel  was  accessory  to  the 
murder,  nay,  nor  even  to  prove  that  the  child  was  murdered 
at  all.  It  was  sufficient  to  support  the  indictment,  that  it 
could  not  be  found.  According  to  the  stern  but  necessary  se- 
verity of  this  statute,  she  who  should  conceal  her  pregnancy, 
who  should  omit  to  call  that  assistance  which  is  most  neces- 
sary on  such  occasions,  was  held  already  to  have  meditated  the 
death  of  her  offspring,  as  an  event  most  likely  to  be  the  con- 
sequence of  her  culpable  and  cruel  concealment.  And  if,  un- 
der such  circumstances,  she  could  not  alternatively  show  by 
proof  that  the  infant  had  died  a  natural  death,  or  produce  it 
still  in  life,  she  must,  under  the  construction  of  the  law,  be 
held  to  have  murdered  it,  and  suffer  death  accordingly." 

The  counsel  for  the  prisoner,  Mr.  Fairbrother,  a  man  of 
considerable  fame  in  his  profession,  did  not  pretend  directly 
to  combat  the  arguments  of  the  King's  Advocate.  He  began 
by  lamenting  that  his  senior  at  the  bar,  Mr.  Langtale,  had 
been  suddenly  called  to  the  county  of  which  he  was  sheriff, 
and  that  he  had  been  applied  to,  on  short  warning,  to  give 
the  panel  his  assistance  in  this  interesting  case.  He  had  had 
little  time,  he  said,  to  make  up  for  his  inferiority  to  his  learned 
brother  by  long  and  minute  research;  and  he  was  afraid  he 
might  give  a  specimen  of  his  incapacity  by  being  compelled 
to  admit  the  accuracy  of  the  indictment  under  the  statute.  "  It 
was  enough  for  their  Lordships, "  he  observed,  "  to  know,  that 
such  was  the  law,  and  he  admitted  the  Advocate  had  a  right  to 
call  for  the  usual  interlocutor  of  relevancy."  But  he  stated, 
"  that  when  he  came  to  establish  his  case  by  proof,  he  trusted 
to  make  out  circumstances  which  would  satisfactorily  elide  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


261 


charge  in  the  libel.  His  client's  story  was  a  short  but  most 
melancholy  one.  She  was  bred  up  in  the  strictest  tenets  of  re- 
ligion and  virtue,  the  daughter  of  a  worthy  and  conscientious 
person,  who,  in  evil  times,  had  established  a  character  for 
courage  and  religion,  by  becoming  a  sufferer  for  conscience' 
sake." 

David  Deans  gave  a  convulsive  start  at  hearing  himself  thus 
mentioned,  and  then  resumed  the  situation  in  which,  with  his 
face  stooped  against  his  hands,  and  both  resting  against  the 
corner  of  the  elevated  bench  on  which  the  Judges  sate,  he  had 
hitherto  listened  to  the  procedure  in  the  trial.  The  Whig 
lawyers  seemed  to  be  interested ;  the  Tories  put  up  their  lip. 

"  Whatever  may  be  our  difference  of  opinion, "  resumed  the 
lawyer,  whose,  business  it  was  to  carry  his  whole  audience 
with  him  if  possible,  "  concerning  the  peculiar  tenets  of  these 
people  (here  Deans  groaned  deeply),  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
them  the  praise  of  sound,  and  even  rigid,  morals,  or  the  merit 
of  training  up  their  children  in  the  fear  of  God ;  and  yet  it 
was  the  daughter  of  such  a  person  whom  a  jury  would  shortly 
be  called  upon,  in  the  absence  of  evidence,  and  upon  mere  pre- 
sumptions, to  convict  of  a  crime  more  properly  belonging  to 
an  heathen  or  a  savage  than  to  a  Christian  and  civilised  coun- 
try. It  was  true,"  he  admitted,  "that  the  excellent  nurture 
and  early  instruction  which  the  poor  girl  had  received  had 
not  been  sufficient  to  preserve  her  from  guilt  and  error.  She 
had  fallen  a  sacrifice  to  an  inconsiderate  affection  for  a  young 
man  of  prepossessing  manners,  as  he  had  been  informed,  but 
of  a  very  dangerous  and  desperate  character.  She  was  se- 
duced under  promise  of  marriage — a  promise  which  the  fellow 
might  have  perhaps  done  her  justice  by  keeping,  had  he  not 
at  that  time  been  called  upon  by  the  law  to  atone  for  a  crime, 
violent  and  desperate  in  itself,  but  which  became  the  preface 
to  another  eventful  history,  every  step  of  which  was  marked 
by  blood  and  guilt,  and  the  final  termination  of  which  had  not 
even  yet  arrived.  He  believed  that  no  one  would  hear  him 
without  surprise,  when  he  stated  that  the  father  of  this  infant 
now  amissing,  and  said  by  the  learned  Advocate  to  have  been 
murdered,  was  no  other  than  the  notorious  George  Eobertson, 


262 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  accomplice  of  Wilson,  the  hero  of  the  memorable  escape 
from  the  Tolbooth  Church,  and,  as  no  one  knew  better  than 
his  learned  friend  the  Advocate,  the  principal  actor  in  the 
Porteous  conspiracy." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  a  counsel  in  such  a  case  as  the 
present, "  said  the  presiding  Judge ;  "  but  I  must  remind  the 
learned  gentleman  that  he  is  travelling  out  of  the  case  be- 
fore us. " 

The  counsel  bowed,  and  resumed.  "He  only  judged  it  nec- 
essary," he  said,  "to  mention  the  name  and  situation  of  Rob- 
ertson, because  the  circumstance  in  which  that  character  was 
placed  went  a  great  way  in  accounting  for  the  silence  on 
which  his  Majesty's  counsel  had  laid  so  much  weight,  as  af- 
fording proof  that  this  client  proposed  to  allow  no  fair  play 
for  its  life  to  the  helpless  being  whom  she  was  about  to  bring 
into  the  world.  She  had  not  announced  to  her  friends  that 
she  had  been  seduced  from  the  path  of  honour,  and  why  had 
she  not  done  so?  Because  she  expected  daily  to  be  restored 
to  character,  by  her  seducer  doing  her  that  justice  which  she 
knew  to  be  in  his  power,  and  believed  to  be  in  his  inclination. 
Was  it  natural,  was  it  reasonable,  was  it  fair,  to  expect  that 
she  should,  in  the  interim,  become  felo  de  se  of  her  own  char- 
acter, and  proclaim  her  frailty  to  the  world,  when  she  had 
every  reason  to  expect  that,  by  concealing  it  for  a  season,  it 
might  be  veiled  for  ever?  Was  it  not,  on  the  contrary,  par- 
donable that,  in  such  an  emergency,  a  young  woman,  in  such 
a  situation,  should  be  found  far  from  disposed  to  make  a  con- 
fidante of  every  prying  gossip  who,  with  sharp  eyes  and  eager 
ears,  pressed  upon  her  for  an  explanation  of  suspicious  cir- 
cumstances, which  females  in  the  lower — he  might  say  which 
females  of  all  ranks  are  so  alert  in  noticing,  that  they  some- 
times discover  them  where  they  do  not  exist?  Was  it  strange, 
or  was  it  criminal,  that  she  should  have  repelled  their  inquisi- 
tive impertinence  with  petulant  denials?  The  sense  and  feel- 
ing of  all  who  heard  him  would  answer  directly  in  the  nega- 
tive. But  although  his  client  had  thus  remained  silent  towards 
those  to  whom  she  was  not  called  upon  to  communicate  her 
situation — to  whom,"  said  the  learned  gentleman,  "  I  will  add, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


263 


it  would  have  been  unadvised  and  improper  in  her  to  have 
done  so ;  yet  T  trust  I  shall  remove  this  case  most  triumphantly 
from  under  the  statute,  and  obtain  the  unfortunate  young  wo- 
man an  honourable  dismission  from  your  Lordship's  bar,  by 
showing  that  she  did,  in  due  time  and  place,  and  to  a  person 
most  fit  for  such  confidence,  mention  the  calamitous  circum- 
stances in  which  she  found  herself.  This  occurred  after  Bob- 
ertson's  conviction,  and  when  he  was  lying  in  prison  in  expec- 
tation of  the  fate  which  his  comrade  Wilson  afterwards  suffer- 
ed, and  from  which  he  himself  so  strangely  escaped.  It  was 
then,  when  all  hopes  of  having  her  honour  repaired  by  wedlock 
vanished  from  her  eyes — when  an  union  with  one  in  Robertson's 
situation,  if  still  practicable,  might  perhaps  have  been  re- 
garded rather  as  an  addition  to  her  disgrace — it  was  then,  that 
I  trust  to  be  able  to  prove  that  the  prisoner  communicated  and 
consulted  with  her  sister,  a  young  woman  several  years  older 
than  herself,  the  daughter  of  her  father,  if  I  mistake  not,  by 
a  former  marriage,  upon  the  perils  and  distress  of  her  unhappy 
situation. " 

"  If,  indeed,  you  are  able  to  instruct  that  point,  Mr.  Fair- 
brother,  99  said  the  presiding  J udge  

"  If  I  am  indeed  able  to  instruct  that  point,  my  lord, "  re- 
sumed Mr.  Fairbrother,  "  I  trust  not  only  to  serve  my  client, 
but  relieve  your  Lordships  from  that  which  I  know  you  feel 
the  most  painful  duty  of  your  high  office ;  and  to  give  all  who 
now  hear  me  the  exquisite  pleasure  of  beholding  a  creature  so 
young,  so  ingenuous,  and  so  beautiful  as  she  that  is  now  at 
the  bar  of  your  Lordship's  Court,  dismissed  from  thence  in 
safety  and  in  honour." 

This  address  seemed  to  affect  many  of  the  audience,  and 
was  followed  by  a  slight  murmur  of  applause.  Deans,  as  he 
heard  his  daughter's  beauty  and  innocent  appearance  appealed 
to,  was  involuntarily  about  to  turn  his  eyes  towards  her;  but, 
recollecting  himself,  he  bent  them  again  on  the  ground  with 
stubborn  resolution. 

"  Will  not  my  learned  brother  on  the  other  side  of  the  bar," 
continued  the  advocate,  after  a  short  pause,  "  share  in  this 
general  joy,  since  I  know,  while  he  discharges  his  duty  in 


264 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


bringing  an  accused  person  here,  no  one  rejoices  more  in  their 
being  freely  and  honourably  sent  hence?  My  learned  brother 
shakes  his  head  doubtfully,  and  lay  his  hand  on  the  panel's 
declaration.  I  undersand  him  perfectly :  he  would  insinuate 
that  the  facts  now  stated  to  your  Lordships  are  inconsistent 
with  the  confession  of  Euphemia  Deans  herself.  I  need  not 
remind  your  Lordships,  that  her  present  defense  is  no  whit 
to  be  narrowed  within  the  bounds  of  her  former  confession ; 
and  that  it  is  not  by  any  account  which  she  may  formerly 
have  given  of  herself,  but  by  what  is  now  to  be  proved  for  or 
against  her,  that  she  must  ultimately  stand  or  fall.  I  am  not 
under  the  necessity  of  accounting  for  her  choosing  to  drop  out 
of  her  declaration  the  circumstances  of  her  confession  to  her 
sister.  She  might  not  be  aware  of  its  importance ;  she  might 
be  afraid  of  implicating  her  sister ;  she  might  even  have  for- 
gotten the  circumstance  entirely,  in  the  terror  and  distress  of 
mind  incidental  to  the  arrest  of  so  young  a  creature  on  a  charge 
so  heinous.  Any  of  these  reasons  are  sufficient  to  account  for 
her  having  suppressed  the  truth  in  this  instance,  at  whatever 
risk  to  herself;  and  I  incline  most  to  her  erroneous  fear  of 
criminating  her  sister,  because  I  observe  she  has  had  a  similar 
tenderness  towards  her  lover,  however  undeserved  on  his  part, 
and  has  never  once  mentioned  Robertson's  name  from  begin- 
ning to  end  of  her  declaration. 

"  But,  my  lords, "  continued  Eairbrother,  "  I  am  aware  the 
King's  Advocate  will  expect  me  to  show  that  the  proof  I  offer 
is  inconsistent  with  other  circumstances  of  the  case  which  I 
do  not  and  cannot  deny.  He  will  demand  of  me  how  Effie 
Deans' s  confession  to  her  sister,  previous  to  her  delivery,  is 
reconcilable  with  the  mystery  of  the  birth — with  the  disap- 
pearance, perhaps  the  murder* — for  I  will  not  deny  a  possibil- 
ity which  I  cannot  disprove — of  the  infant.  My  lords,  the  ex- 
planation of  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  placability,  perchance  I 
may  say  in  the  facility  and  pliability,  of  the  female  sex.  The 
dulcis  Amaryllidis  irce,  as  your  Lordships  well  know,  are  easily 
appeased ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  conceive  a  woman  so  atrociously 
offended  by  the  man  whom  she  has  loved,  but  what  she  will 
retain  a  fund  of  forgiveness  upon  which  his  penitence,  whether 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


265 


real  or  affected,  may  draw  largely,  with  a  certainty  that  his 
bills  will  be  answered.  We  can  prove,  by  a  letter  produced 
in  evidence,  that  this  villain  Eobertson,  from  the  bottom  of 
the  dungeon  whence  he  already  probably  meditated  the  escape 
which  he  afterwards  accomplished  by  the  assistance  of  his 
comrade,  contrived  to  exercise  authority  over  the  mind,  and 
to  direct  the  motions,  of  this  unhappy  girl.  It  was  in  com- 
pliance with  his  injunctions,  expressed  in  that  letter,  that  the 
panel  was  prevailed  upon  to  alter  the  line  of  conduct  which  her 
own  better  thoughts  had  suggested ;  and,  instead  of  resorting, 
when  her  time  of  travail  approached,  to  the  protection  of  her 
own  family,  was  induced  to  confide  herself  to  the  charge  of 
some  vile  agent  of  this  nefarious  seducer,  and  by  her  conducted 
to  one  of  those  solitary  and  secret  purlieus  of  villainy,  which, 
to  the  shame  of  our  police,  still  are  suffered  to  exist  in  the 
suburbs  of  this  city,  where,  with  the  assistance,  and  under  the 
charge,  of  a  person  of  her  own  sex,  she  bore  a  male  child,  under 
circumstances  which  added  treble  bitterness  to  the  woe  de- 
nounced against  our  original  mother.  What  purpose  Robert- 
son had  in  all  this,  it  is  hard  to  tell  or  even  to  guess.  He 
may  have  meant  to  marry  the  girl,  for  her  father  is  a  man  of 
substance.  But  for  the  termination  of  the  story,  and  the  con- 
duct of  the  woman  whom  he  had  placed  about  the  person  of 
Euphemia  Deans,  it  is  still  more  difficult  to  account.  The 
unfortunate  young  woman  was  visited  by  the  fever  incidental 
to  her  situation.  In  this  fever  she  appears  to  have  been  de- 
ceived by  the  person  that  waited  on  her,  and,  on  recovering 
her  senses,  she  found  that  she  was  childless  in  that  abode  of 
misery.  Her  infant  had  been  carried  off,  perhaps  for  the 
worst  purposes,  by  the  wretch  that  waited  on  her.  It  may 
have  been  murdered  for  what  I  can  tell." 

He  was  here  interrupted  by  a  piercing  shriek,  uttered  by 
the  unfortunate  prisoner.  She  was  wTith  difficulty  brought 
to  compose  herself.  Her  counsel  availed  himself  of  the  tragi- 
cal interruption  to  close  his  pleading  with  effect. 

"  My  lords, "  said  he,  "  in  that  piteous  cry  you  heard  the 
eloquence  of  maternal  affection,  far  surpassing  the  force  of 
my  poor  words :  Rachel  weeping  for  her  children !  Nature 


266 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


herself  bears  testimony  in  favour  of  the  tenderness  and  acute- 
ness  of  the  prisoner's  parental  feelings.  I  will  not  dishonour 
her  plea  by  adding  a  word  more." 

"  Heard  ye  ever  the  like  o'  that,  Laird?"  said  Saddletree 
to  Dumbiedikes,  when  the  counsel  had  ended  his  speech. 
"There's  a  chield  can  spin  a  muckle  pirn  out  of  a  wee  tait 
of  tow!  Deil  haet  he  kens  mair  about  it  than  what's  in  the 
declaration,  and  a  surmise  that  Jeanie  Deans  suld  hae  been 
able  to  say  something  about  her  sister's  situation,  whilk  sur- 
mise, Mr.  Crossmyloof  says,  rests  on  sma'  authority.  And 
he's  cleckit  this  great  muckle  bird  out  o'  this  wee  egg!  He 
could  wile  the  very  flounders  out  of  the  Firth.  What  garr'd 
my  father  no  send  me  to  Utrecht?  But  whisht!  the  Court  is 
gaun  to  announce  the  interlocutor  of  relevancy." 

And  accordingly  the  Judges,  after  a  few  words,  recorded 
their  judgment,  which  bore,  that  the  indictment,  if  proved,  was 
relevant  to  infer  the  pains  of  law ;  and  that  the  defence,  tha.t 
the  panel  had  communicated  her  situation  to  her  sister,  was  a 
relevant  defence;  and,  finally,  appointed  the  said  indictment 
and  defence  to  be  submitted  to  the  judgment  of  an  assize. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Most  righteous  judge  !  a  sentence.   Come,  prepare. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

It  is  by  no  means  my  intention  to  describe  minutely  the 
forms  of  a  Scottish  criminal  trial,  nor  am  I  sure  that  I  could 
draw  up  an  account  so  intelligible  and  accurate  as  to  abide  the 
criticism  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  long  robe.  It  is  enough  to 
say  that  the  jury  was  impanelled,  and  the  case  proceeded. 
The  prisoner  was  again  required  to  plead  to  the  charge,  and 
she  again  replied,  "Not  Guilty,"  in  the  same  heart-thrilling 
tone  as  before. 

The  crown  counsel  then  called  two  or  three  female  wit- 
nesses, by  whose  testimony  it  was  established  that  Enie's  sit- 
uation had  been  remarked  by  them,  that  they  had  taxed  her 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


267 


with  the  fact,  and  that  her  answers  had  amounted  to  an  angry 
and  petulant  denial  of  what  they  charged  her  with.  But,  as 
very  frequently  happens,  the  declaration  of  the  panel  or  ac- 
cused party  herself  was  the  evidence  which  bore  hardest  upon 
her  case. 

In  the  event  of  these  Tales  ever  finding  their  way  across 
the  Border,  it  may  be  proper  to  apprise  the  southern  reader 
that  it  is  the  practice  in  Scotland,  on  apprehending  a  sus- 
pected person,  to  subject  him  to  a  judicial  examination  before 
a  magistrate.  He  is  not  compelled  to  answer  any  of  the  ques- 
tions asked  of  him,  but  may  remain  silent  if  he  sees  it  his 
interest  to  do  so.  But  whatever  answers  he  chooses  to  give 
are  formally  written  down,  and  being  subscribed  by  himself 
and  the  magistrate,  are  produced  against  the  accused  in  case 
of  his  being  brought  to  trial.  It  is  true,  that  these  declara- 
tions are  not  produced  as  being  in  themselves  evidence  prop- 
erly so  called,  but  only  as  adminicles  of  testimony,  tending  to 
corroborate  what  is  considered  as  legal  and  proper  evidence. 
Notwithstanding  this  nice  distinction,  however,  introduced  by 
lawyers  to  reconcile  this  procedure  to  their  own  general  rule, 
that  a  man  cannot  be  required  to  bear  witness  against  himself, 
it  nevertheless  usually  happens  that  these  declarations  become 
the  means  of  condemning  the  accused,  as  it  were,  out  of  their 
own  mouths.  The  prisoner,  upon  these  previous  examina- 
tions, has  indeed  the  privilege  of  remaining  silent  if  he  pleases ; 
but  every  man  necessarily  feels  that  a  refusal  to  answer  natu- 
ral and  pertinent  interrogatories,  put  by  judicial  authority, 
is  in  itself  a  strong  proof  of  guilt,  and  will  certainly  lead  to 
his  being  committed  to  prison ;  and  few  can  renounce  the  hope 
of  obtaining  liberty  by  giving  some  specious  account  of  them- 
selves, and  showing  apparent  frankness  in  explaining  their 
motives  and  accounting  for  fheir  conduct.  It,  therefore,  sel- 
dom happens  that  the  prisoner  refuses  to  give  a  judicial  de- 
claration, in  which,  nevertheless,  either  by  letting  out  too 
much  of  the  truth,  or  by  endeavouring  to  substitute  a  fictitious 
story,  he  almost  always  exposes  himself  to  suspicion  and  to 
contradictions,  which  weigh  heavily  in  the  minds  of  the  jury. 

The  declaration  of  Efne  Deans  was  uttered  on  other  princi- 


268 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


pies,  and  the  following  is  a  sketch  of  its  contents,  given  in 
the  judicial  form  in  which  they  may  still  be  found  in  the 

Books  of  Adjournal. 

The  declarant  admitted  a  criminal  intrigue  witli  an  individ- 
ual whose  name  she  desired  to  conceal.  "  Being  interrogated, 
what  her  reason  was  for  secrecy  on  this  point?  She  declared, 
that  she  had  no  right  to  blame  that  person's  conduct  more 
than  she  did  her  own,  and  that  she  was  willing  to  confess  her 
own  faults,  but  not  to  say  anything  which  might  criminate 
the  absent.  Interrogated,  if  she  confessed  her  situation  to 
any  one,  or  made  any  preparation  for  her  confinement?  De- 
clares, she  did  not.  And  being  interrogated,  why  she  forbore 
to  take  steps  which  her  situation  so  peremptorily  required? 
Declares,  she  was  ashamed  to  tell  her  friends,  and  she  trusted 
the  person  she  has  mentioned  would  provide  for  her  and  the 
infant.  Interrogated,  if  he  did  so?  Declares,  that  he  did 
not  do  so  personally ;  but  that  it  was  not  his  fault,  for  that 
the  declarant  is  convinced  he  would  have  laid  down  his  life 
sooner  than  the  bairn  or  she  had  come  to  harm.  Interro- 
gated, what  prevented  him  from  keeping  his  promise?  De- 
clares, that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  do  so,  he  being  under 
trouble  at  the  time,  and  declines  farther  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion. Interrogated,  where  she  was  from  the  period  she  left 
her  master,  Mr.  Saddletree's  family,  until  her  appearance  at 
her  father's,  at  St.  Leonard's,  the  day  before  she  was  appre- 
hended? Declares,  she  does  not  remember.  And,  on  the  in- 
terrogatory being  repeated,  declares,  she  does  not  mind  muckle 
about  it,  for  she  was  very  ill.  On  the  question  being  again 
repeated,  she  declares,  she  will  tell  the  truth,  if  it  should  be 
the  undoing  of  her,  so  long  as  she  is  not  asked  to  tell  on  other 
folk ;  and  admits,  that  she  passed  that  interval  of  time  in  the 
lodging  of  a  woman,  an  acquaintance  of  that  person  who  had 
wished  her  to  that  place  to  be  delivered/  and  that  she  was 
there  delivered  accordingly  of  a  male  child.  Interrogated, 
what  was  the  name  of  that  person?  Declares  and  refuses  to 
answer  this  question.  Interrogated,  where  she  lives?  De- 
clares, she  has  no  certainty,  for  that  she  was  taken  to  the  lodg- 
ing aforesaid  under  cloud  of  night.    Interrogated,  if  the  lodging 


THE  HEAKT  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


269 


was  in  the  city  or  suburbs?  Declares  and  refuses  to  answer 
that  question.  Interrogated,  whether,  when  she  left  the  house 
of  Mr.  Saddletree,  she  went  up  or  down  the  street?  Declares 
and  refuses  to  answer  the  question.  Interrogated,  whether  she 
had  ever  seen  the  woman  before  she  was  wished  to  her,  as  she 
termed  it,  by  the  person  whose  name  she  refuses  to  answer? 
Declares  and  replies,  not  to  her  knowledge.  Interrogated, 
whether  this  woman  was  introduced  to  her  by  the  said  person 
verbally,  or  by  word  of  mouth?  Declares,  she  has  no  freedom 
to  answer  this  question.  Interrogated,  if  the  child  was  alive 
when  it  was  born?  Declares,  that — God  help  her  and  it! — it 
certainly  was  alive.  Interrogated,  if  it  died  a  natural  death 
after  birth?  Declares,  not  to  her  knowledge.  Interrogated, 
where  it  now  is?  Declares,  she  would  give  her  right  hand  to 
ken,  but  that  she  never  hopes  to  see  mair  than  the  banes  of 
it.  And  being  interrogated,  why  she  supposes  it  is  now  dead? 
the  declarant  wept  bitterly,  and  made  no  answer.  Interro- 
gated, if  the  woman  in  whose  lodging  she  was  seemed  to  be  a 
fit  person  to  be  with  her  in  that  situation?  Declares,  she 
might  be  fit  enough  for  skill,  but  that  she  was  an  hard-hearted 
bad  woman.  Interrogated,  if  there  was  any  other  person  in 
the  lodging  excepting  themselves  two?  Declares,  that  she 
thinks  there  was  another  woman;  but  her  head  was  so  carried 
with  pain  of  body  and  trouble  of  mind  that  she  minded  her 
very  little.  Interrogated,  when  the  child  was  taken  away 
from  her?  Declares,  that  she  fell  in  a  fever,  and  was  light- 
headed, and  when  she  came  to  her  own  mind  the  woman  told 
her  the  bairn  was  dead ;  and  that  the  declarant  answered,  if  it 
was  dead  it  had  had  foul  play.  That,  thereupon,  the  woman 
was  very  sair  on  her,  and  gave  her  much  ill  language ;  and 
that  the  deponent  was  frightened,  and  crawled  out  of  the 
house  when  her  back  was  turned,  and  went  home  to  St.  Leon- 
ard's Crags,  as  well  as  a  woman  in  her  condition  dought.  In- 
terrogated, why  she  did  not  tell  her  story  to  her  sister  and 
father,  and  get  force  to  search  the  house  for  her  child,  dead 
or  alive?  Declares,  it  was  her  purpose  to  do  so,  but  she  had 
not  time.  Interrogated,  why  she  now  conceals  the  name  of 
the  woman,  and  the  place  of  her  abode?    The  declarant  re- 


270 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


mained  silent  for  a  time,  and  then  said,  that  to  do  so  could 
not  repair  the  skaith  that  was  done,  but  might  be  the  occasion 
of  more.  Interrogated,  whether  she  had  herself,  at  any  time, 
had  any  purpose  of  putting  away  the  child  by  violence?  De- 
clares, never;  so  might  God  be  merciful  to  her;  and  then 
again  declares,  never,  when  she  was  in  her  perfect  senses; 
but  what  bad  thought  the  Enemy  might  put  into  her  brain 
when  she  was  out  of  herself,  she  cannot  answer.  And  again 
solemnly  interrogated,  declares,  that  she  would  have  been 
drawn  with  wild  horses  rather  than  have  touched  the  bairn 
with  an  unmotherly  hand.  Interrogated,  declares,  that  among 
the  ill  language  the  woman  gave  her,  she  did  say  sure  enough 
that  the  declarant  had  hurt  the  bairn  when  she  in  the  brain- 
fever  ;  but  that  the  declarant  does  not  believe  that  she  said 
this  from  any  other  cause  than  to  frighten  her,  and  make  her 
be  silent.  Interrogated,  what  else  the  woman  said  to  her? 
Declares,  that  when  the  declarant  cried  loud  for  her  bairn, 
and  was  like  to  raise  the  neighbours,  the  woman  threatened 
her,  that  they  that  could  stop  the  wean's  skirling  would  stop 
hers,  if  she  did  not  keep  a'  the  lounder.  And  that  this  threat, 
with  the  manner  of  the  woman,  made  the  declarant  conclude 
that  the  bairn's  life  was  gone,  and  her  own  in  danger,  for  that 
the  woman  was  a  desperate  bad  woman,  as  the  declarant 
judged,  from  the  language  she  used.  Interrogated,  declares, 
that  the  fever  and  delirium  were  brought  on  her  by  hearing 
bad  news,  suddenly  told  to  her,  but  refuses  to  say  what  the 
said  news  related  to.  Interrogated,  why  she  does  not  now 
communicate  these  particulars,  which  might,  perhaps,  enable 
the  magistrate  to  ascertain  whether  the  child  is  living  or  dead, 
and  requested  to  observe,  that  her  refusing  to  do  so  exposes 
her  own  life,  and  leaves  the  child  in  bad  hands,  as  also,  that 
her  present  refusal  to  answer  on  such  points  is  inconsistent 
with  her  alleged  intention  to  make  a  clean  breast  to  her  sister? 
Declares,  that  she  kens  the  bairn  is  now  dead,  or,  if  living, 
there  is  one  that  will  look  after  it;  that  for  her  own  living  or 
dying,  she  is  in  God's  hands,  who  knows  her  innocence  of 
harming  her  bairn  with  her  will  or  knowledge ;  and  that  she 
has  altered  her  resolution  of  speaking  out,  which  she  enter- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


271 


tained  when  she  left  the  woman's  lodging,  on  account  of  a 
matter  which  she  has  since  learned.  And  declares,  in  gen- 
eral, that  she  is  wearied,  and  will  answer  no  more  questions 
at  this  time." 

Upon  a  subsequent  examination,  Euphemia  Deans  adhered 
to  the  declaration  she  had  formerly  made,  with  this  addition, 
that  a  paper  found  in  her  trunk  being  shown  to  her,  she  ad- 
mitted that  it  contained  the  credentials  in  consequence  of 
which  she  resigned  herself  to  the  conduct  of  the  woman  at 
which  lodgings  she  was  delivered  of  the  child.  Its  tenor  ran 
thus: 

"  Dearest  Effie: 

"  I  have  gotten  the  means  to  send  to  you  by  a  woman  who 
is  well  qualified  to  assist  you  in  your  approaching  streight; 
she  is  not  what  I  could  wish  her,  but  I  cannot  do  better  for 
you  in  my  present  condition.  I  am  obliged  to  trust  to  her  in 
this  present  calamity,  for  myself  and  you  too.  I  hope  for  the 
best,  though  I  am  now  in  a  sore  pinch;  yet  thought  is  free.  I 
think  Handie  Dandie  and  I  may  queer  the  stifler  for  all  that 
is  come  and  gone.  You  will  be  angry  for  me  writing  this  to 
my  little  Cameronian  Lily ;  but  if  I  can  but  live  to  be  a  com- 
fort to  you,  and  a  father  to  your  baby,  you  will  have  plenty  of 
time  to  scold.  Once  more,  let  none  know  your  counsel.  My 
life  depends  on  this  hag,  d — n  her ;  she  is  both  deep  and  dan- 
gerous, but  she  has  more  wiles  and  wit  than  ever  were  in  a 
beldam's  head,  and  has  cause  to  be  true  to  me.  Farewell,  my 
Lily.  Do  not  droop  on  my  account;  in  a  week,  I  will  be 
yours,  or  no  more  my  own. " 

Then  followed  a  postscript.  "If  they  must  truss  me,  I 
will  repent  of  nothing  so  much,  even  at  the  last  hard  pinch,, 
as  of  the  injury  I  have  done  my  Lily." 

Effie  refused  to  say  from  whom  she  had  received  this  letter,, 
but  enough  of  the  story  was  now  known  to  ascertain  that  it 
came  from  Robertson ;  and  from  the  date  it  appeared  to  have 
been  written  about  the  time  when  Andrew  Wilson,  called  for 


272 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


a  nickname  Handie  Dan  die,  and  he  was  meditating  their  first 
abortive  attempt  to  escape,  which  miscarried  in  the  manner 
mentioned  in  the  beginning  of  this  history. 

The  evidence  of  the  crown  being  concluded,  the  counsel  for 
the  prisoner  began  to  lead  a  proof  in  her  defence.  The  first 
witnesses  were  examined  upon  the  girl's  character.  All  gave 
her  an  excellent  one,  but  none  with  more  feeling  than  worthy 
Mrs.  Saddletree,  who,  with  the  tears  on  her  cheeks,  declared, 
that  she  could  not  have  had  a  higher  opinion  of  Effie  Deans, 
nor  a  more  sincere  regard  for  her,  if  she  had  been  her  own 
daughter.  All  present  gave  the  honest  woman  credit  for  her 
goodness  of  heart,  excepting  her  husband,  who  whispered  to 
Dumbiedikes,  "  That  Nichil  Novit  of  yours  is  but  a  raw  hand 
at  leading  evidence,  I'm  thinking.  What  signifies  his  bring- 
ing a  woman  here  to  snotter  and  snivel,  and  bather  their  Lord- 
ships? He  should  hae  ceeted  me,  sir,  and  I  should  hae  gien 
them  sic  a  screed  o?  testimony,  they  shouldna  hae  touched  a 
hair  o?  her  head." 

"  Hadna  ye  better  get  up  and  try't  yet?"  said  the  Laird. 
"I'll  mak  a  sign  to  Novit." 

"  Na,  na, "  said  Saddletree,  "  thank  ye  for  naething,  neigh- 
bour :  that  would  be  ultroneous  evidence,  and  I  ken  what  be- 
langs  to  that ;  but  Nichil  Kovit  suld  hae  had  me  ceeted  debito 
tempore."  And  wiping  his  mouth  with  his  silk  handkerchief 
with  great  importance,  he  resumed  the  port  and  manner  of  an 
edified  and  intelligent  auditor. 

Mr.  Fairbrother  now  premised,  in  a  few  words,  "that  he 
meant  to  bring  forward  his  most  important  witness,  upon 
whose  evidence  the  cause  must  in  a  great  measure  depend. 
What  his  client  was,  they  had  learned  from  the  preceding 
witnesses ;  and  so  far  as  general  character,  given  in  the  most 
forcible  terms,  and  even  with  tears,  could  interest  every  one 
in  her  fate,  she  had  already  gained  that  advantage.  It  was 
necessary,  he  admitted,  that  he  should  produce  more  positive 
testimony  of  her  innocence  than  what  arose  out  of  general 
character,  and  this  he  undertook  to  do  by  the  mouth  of  the 
person  to  whom  she  had  communicated  her  situation — by  the 
mouth  of  her  natural  counsellor  and  guardian — her  sister. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


273 


Macer,  call  into  court  Jean  or  Jeanie  Deans,  "daughter  of 
David  Deans,  cow-feeder,  at  St.  Leonard's  Crags." 

When  he  uttered  these  words,  the  poor  prisoner  instantly 
started  up  and  stretched  herself  half-way  over  the  bar,  to- 
wards the  side  at  which  her  sister  was  to  enter.  And  when, 
slowly  following  the  officer,  the  witness  advanced  to  the  foot 
of  the  table,  Effie,  with  the  whole  expression  of  her  counte- 
nance altered  from  that  of  confused  shame  and  dismay  to  an 
eager,  imploring,  and  almost  ecstatic  earnestness  of  entreaty, 
with  outstretched  hands,  hair  streaming  back,  eyes  raised 
eagerly  to  her  sister's  face,  and  glistening  through  tears,  ex- 
claimed, in  a  tone  which  went  through  the  heart  of  all  who 
heard  her — "0  Jeanie — Jeanie,  save  me — save  me!" 

With  a  different  feeling,  yet  equally  appropriated  to  his 
proud  and  self-dependent  character,  old  Deans  drew  himself 
back  still  farther  under  the  cover  of  the  bench ;  so  that  when 
Jeanie,  as  she  entered  the  court,  cast  a  timid  glance  towards 
the  place  at  which  she  had  left  him  seated,  his  venerable  fig- 
ure was  no  longer  visible.  He  sat  down  on  the  other  side  of 
Dumbiedikes,  wrung  his  hand  hard,  and  whispered,  "  Ah, 
Laird,  this  is  warst  of  a' — if  I  can  but  win  ower  this  part !  I 
feel  my  head  unco  dizzy ;  but  my  Master  is  strong  in  His  ser- 
vant's weakness."  After  a  moment's  mental  prayer,  he  again 
started  up,  as  if  impatient  of  continuing  in  any  one  posture, 
and  gradually  edged  himself  forward  towards  the  place  he 
had  just  quitted. 

Jeanie  in  the  mean  time  had  advanced  to  the  bottom  of  the 
table,  when,  unable  to  resist  the  impulse  of  affection,  she 
suddenly  extended  her  hand  to  her  sister.  Effie  was  just 
within  the  distance  that  she  could  seize  it  with  both  hers, 
press  it  to  her  mouth,  cover  it  with  kisses,  and  bathe  it  in 
tears,  with  the  fond  devotion  that  a  Catholic  would  pay  to  a 
guardian  saint  descended  for  his  safety,  while  Jeanie,  hiding 
her  own  face  with  her  other  hand,  wept  bitterly.  The  sight 
would  have  moved  a  heart  of  stone,  much  more  of  flesh  and 
blood.  Many  of  the  spectators  shed  tears,  and  it  was  some 
time  before  the  presiding  Judge  himself  could  so  far  subdue 
his  emotion  as  to  request  the  witness  to  compose  herself,  and 
18 


274 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  prisoner  to  forbear  those  marks  of  eager  affection,  which, 
however  natural,  could  not  be  permitted  at  that  time  and  in 
that  presence. 

The  solemn  oath — "  the  truth  to  tell,  and  no  truth  to  con- 
ceal, as  far  as  she  knew  or  should  be  asked, "  was  then  admin- 
istered by  the  Judge  "  in  the  name  of  God,  and  as  the  witness 
should  answer  to  God  at  the  great  day  of  judgment" ;  an 
awful  adjuration,  which  seldom  fails  to  make  impression  even 
on  the  most  hardened  characters,  and  to  strike  with  fear  even 
the  most  upright.  Jeanie,  educated  in  deep  and  devout  rever- 
ence for  the  name  and  attributes  of  the  Deity,  was,  by  the 
solemnity  of  a  direct  appeal  to  His  person  and  justice,  awed, 
but  at  the  same  time  elevated  above  all  considerations  save 
those  which  she  could,  with  a  clear  conscience,  call  Him  to 
witness.  She  repeated  the  form  in  a  low  and  reverent,  but 
distinct,  tone  of  voice,  after  the  Judge,  to  whom,  and  not  to 
any  inferior  officer  of  the  court,  the  task  is  assigned  in  Scot- 
land of  directing  the  witness  in  that  solemn  appeal  which  is 
the  sanction  of  his  testimony. 

"When  the  Judge  had  finished  the  established  form,  he 
added,  in  a  feeling,  but  yet  a  monitory,  tone,  an  advice  which 
the  circumstances  appeared  to  him  to  call  for. 

"  Young  woman, "  these  were  his  words,  "  you  come  before 
this  Court  in  circumstances  which  it  would  be  worse  than 
cruel  not  to  pity  and  to  sympathise  with.  Yet  it  is  my  duty 
to  tell  you,  that  the  truth,  whatever  its  consequences  may  be 
— the  truth  is  what  you  owe  to  your  country,  and  to  that  God 
whose  word  is  truth,  and  whose  name  you  have  now  invoked. 
Use  your  own  time  in  answering  the  questions  that  gentleman 
(pointing  to  the  counsel)  shall  put  to  you.  But  remember,  that 
what  you  may  be  tempted  to  say  beyond  what  is  the  actual  truth, 
you  must  answer  both  here  and  hereafter. " 

The  usual  questions  were  then  put  to  her :  Whether  any 
one  had  instructed  her  what  evidence  she  had  to  deliver? 
Whether  any  one  had  given  or  promised  her  any  good  deed, 
hire,  or  reward  for  her  testimony?  Whether  she  had  any 
malice  or  ill-will  at  his  Majesty's  advocate,  being  the  party 
against  whom  she  was  cited  as  a  witness?    To  which  ques- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


275 


tions  she  successively  answered  by  a  quiet  negative.  But  their 
tenor  gave  great  scandal  and  offence  to  her  father,  who  was  not 
aware  that  they  are  put  to  every  witness  as  a  matter  of  form. 

"JSTa,  na,"  he  exclaimed,  loud  enough  to  be  heard,  "my 
bairn  is  no  like  the  widow  of  Tekoah :  nae  man  has  putten 
words  into  her  mouth." 

One  of  the  Judges,  better  acquainted,  perhaps,  with  the 
Books  of  Adjournal  than  with  the  Book  of  Samuel,  was  dis- 
posed to  make  some  instant  inquiry  after  this  widow  of  Te- 
koah, who,  as  he  construed  the  matter,  had  been  tampering 
with  the  evidence.  But  the  presiding  Judge,  better  versed  in 
Scripture  history,  whispered  to  his  learned  brother  the  neces- 
sary explanation;  and  the  pause  occasioned  by  this  mistake 
had  the  good  effect  of  giving  Jeanie  Deans  time  to  collect  her 
spirits  for  the  painful  task  she  had  to  perform. 

Fairbrother,  whose  practice  and  intelligence  were  conside- 
rable, saw  the  necessity  of  letting  the  witness  compose  her- 
self. In  his  heart  he  suspected  that  she  came  to  bear  false 
witness  in  her  sister's  cause. 

"  But  that  is  her  own  affair, "  thought  Fairbrother ;  "  and  it 
is  my  business  to  see  that  she  has  plenty  of  time  to  regain 
composure,  and  to  deliver  her  evidence,  be  it  true  or  be  it 
false,  valeat  quantum." 

Accordingly,  he  commenced  his  interrogatories  with  un- 
interesting questions,  which  admitted  of  instant  reply. 

"You  are,  I  think,  the  sister  of  the  prisoner?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Not  the  full  sister,  however?" 
"No,  sir;  we  are  by  different  mothers." 
"  True ;  and  you  are,  I  think,  several  years  older  than  your 
sister?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  etc. 

After  the  advocate  had  conceived  that,  by  these  preliminary 
and  unimportant  questions,  he  had  familiarised  the  witness 
with  the  situation  in  which  she  stood,  he  asked,  "  whether 
she  had  not  remarked  her  sister's  state  of  health  to  be  altered, 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  term  when  she  had  lived  with 
Saddletree?" 


276 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Jeanie  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"And  she  told  you  the  cause  of  it,,  my  dear,  I  suppose?" 
said  Fairbrother,  in  an  easy,  and,  as  one  may  say,  an  induc- 
tive sort  of  tone. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  my  brother, "  said  the  Crown  Coun- 
sel, rising,  "but  I  am  in  your  Lordships'  judgment,  whether 
this  be  not  a  leading  question?" 

"If  this  point  is  to  be  debated,"  said  the  presiding  Judge, 
"  the  witness  must  be  removed. " 

For  the  Scottish  lawyers  regard  with  a  sacred  and  scrupulous 
horror  every  question  so  shaped  by  the  counsel  examining  as 
to  convey  to  a  witness  the  least  intimation  of  the  nature  of 
the  answer  which  is  desired  from  him.  These  scruples,  though 
founded  on  an  excellent  principle,  are  sometimes  carried  to  an 
absurd  pitch  of  nicety,  especially  as  it  is  generally  easy  for  a 
lawyer  who  has  his  wits  about  him  to  elude  the  objection. 
Fairbrother  did  so  in  the  present  case. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  waste  the  time  of  the  Court,  my  lord ; 
since  the  King's  Counsel  thinks  it  worth  while  to  object  to  the 
form  of  my  question,  I  will  shape  it  otherwise.  Pray,  young 
woman,  did  you  ask  your  sister  any  question  when  you  ob- 
served her  looking  unwell?    Take  courage — speak  out." 

"I  asked  her,"  replied  Jeanie,  "what  ailed  her." 

"  Very  well — take  your  own  time — and  what  was  the  answer 
she  made?"  continued  Mr.  Fairbrother. 

Jeanie  was  silent,  and  looked  deadly  pale.  It  was  not  that 
she  at  any  one  instant  entertained  an  idea  of  the  possibility  of 
prevarication :  it  was  the  natural  hesitation  to  extinguish  the 
last  spark  of  hope  that  remained  for  her  sister. 

"  Take  courage,  young  woman,"  said  Fairbrother.  "  I  asked 
what  your  sister  said  ailed  her  when  you  inquired?" 

"  Nothing, "  answered  Jeanie,  with  a  faint  voice,  which  was 
yet  heard  distinctly  in  the  most  distant  corner  of  the  court- 
room,— such  an  awful  and  profound  silence  had  been  preserved 
during  the  anxious  interval  which  had  interposed  betwixt  the 
lawyer's  question  and  the  answer  of  the  witness. 

Fairbrother's  countenance  fell;  but  with  that  ready  presence 
of  mind  which  is  as  useful  in  civil  as  in  military  emergencies, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


he  immediately  rallied.  "  Nothing !  True ;  you  mean  noth- 
ing at  first;  but  when  you  asked  her  again,  did  she  not  tell 
you  what  ailed  her?" 

The  question  was  put  in  a  tone  meant  to  make  her  compre- 
hend the  importance  of  her  answer,  had  she  not  been  already 
aware  of  it.  The  ice  was  broken,  however,  and  with  less 
pause  than  at  first,  she  now  replied:  " Alack!  alack!  she 
never  breathed  word  to  me  about  it." 

A  deep  groan  passed  through  the  Court.  It  was  echoed  by 
one  deeper  and  more  agonised  from  the  unfortuate  father. 
The  hope,  to  which  unconsciously,  and  in  spite  of  himself,  he 
had  still  secretly  clung,  had  now  dissolved,  and  the  venerable 
old  man  fell  forward  senseless  on  the  floor  *of  the  court-house, 
with  his  head  at  the  foot  of  his  terrified  daughter.  The  un- 
fortunate prisoner,  with  impotent  passion,  strove  with  the 
guards  betwixt  whom  she  was  placed.  "  Let  me  gang  to  my 
father!  I  will  gang  to  him — I  will  gang  to  him;  he  is  dead — 
he  is  killed;  I  hae  killed  him!"  she  repeated  in  frenzied  tones 
of  grief,  which  those  who  heard  them  did  not  speedily  forget. 

Even  in  this  moment  of  agony  arid  general  confusion,  Jeanie 
did  not  lose  that  superiority  which  a  deep  and  firm  mind  as- 
sures to  its  possessor  under  the  most  trying  circumstances. 

"He  is  my  father — he  is  our  father,"  she  mildly  repeated 
to  those  who  endeavoured  to  separate  them,  as  she  stooped, 
shaded  aside  his  grey  hairs,  and  began  assiduously  to  chafe 
his  temples. 

The  Judge,  after  repeatedly  wiping  his  eyes,  gave  directions 
that  they  should  be  conducted  into  a  neighbouring  apartment, 
and  carefully  attended.  The  prisoner,  as  her  father  was  borne 
from  the  court,  and  her  sister  slowly  followed,  pursued  them 
with  her  eyes  so  earnestly  fixed,  as  if  they  would  have  started 
from  their  sockets.  But  when  they  were  no  longer  visible, 
she  seemed  to  find,  in  her  despairing  and  deserted  state,  a 
courage  which  Hue  had  not  yet  exhibited. 

"  The  bitterness  of  it  is  now  past, "  she  said,  and  then  boldly 
addressed  the  Court.  "  My  lords,  if  it  is  your  pleasure  to  gang 
on  wi?  this  matter,  the  weariest  day  will  hae  its  end  at  last. " 

The  Judge,  who,  much  to  his  honour,  had  shared  deeply  in 


278 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  general  sympathy,  was  surprised  at  being  recalled  to  his 
duty  by  the  prisoner.  He  collected  himself,  and  requested  to 
know  if  the  panel's  counsel  had  more  evidence  to  produce. 
Fair  brother  replied,  with  an  air  of  dejection,  that  his  proof 
was  concluded. 

The  King's  Counsel  addressed  the  jury  for  the  crown.  He 
said,  in  few  words,  that  no  one  could  be  more  concerned  than 
he  was  for  the  distressing  scene  which  they  had  just  wit- 
nessed. But  it  was  the  necessary  consequence  of  great  crimes 
to  bring  distress  and  ruin  upon  all  connected  with  the  perpe- 
trators. He  briefly  reviewed  the  proof,  in  which  he  showed 
that  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case  concurred  with  those  re- 
quired by  the  act  under  which  the  unfortunate  prisoner  was 
tried:  that  the  counsel  for  the  panel  had  totally  failed  in 
proving  that  Euphemia  Deans  had  communicated  her  situation 
to  her  sister ;  that,  respecting  her  previous  good  character,  he 
was  sorry  to  observe,  that  it  was  females  who  possessed  the 
world's  good  report,  and  to  whom  it  was  justly  valuable,  who 
were  most  strongly  tempted,  by  shame  and  fear  of  the  world's 
censure,  to  the  crime  of  infanticide ;  that  the  child  was  mur- 
dered, he  professed  to  entertain  no  doubt.  The  vacillating 
and  inconsistent  declaration  of  the  prisoner  herself,  marked  as 
it  was  by  numerous  refusals  to  speak  the  truth  on  subjects 
when,  according  to  her  own  story,  it  would  have  been  natural, 
as  well  as  advantageous,  to  have  been  candid — even  this  im- 
perfect declaration  left  no  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  the  fate  of 
the  unhappy  infant.  Neither  could  he  doubt  that  the  panel 
was  a  partner  in  this  guilt.  Who  else  had  an  interest  in  a 
deed  so  inhuman?  Surely  neither  Robertson,  nor  Robertson's 
agent,  in  whose  house  she  was  delivered,  had  the  least  temp- 
tation to  commit  such  a  crime,  unless  upon  her  account,  with 
her  connivance,  and  for  the  sake  of  saving  her  reputation. 
But  it  was  not  required  of  him  by  the  law  that  he  should 
bring  precise  proof  of  the  murder,  or  of  the  ^isoner's  acces- 
sion to  it.  It  was  the  very  purpose  of  the  statute  to  substi- 
tute a  certain  chain  of  presumptive  evidence  in  place  of  a  pro- 
bation, which,  in  such  cases,  it  was  peculiarly  difficult  to 
obtain.    The  jury  might  peruse  the  statute  itself,  and  they 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


279 


had  also  the  libel  and  interlocutor  of  relevancy  to  direct  thern 
in  point  of  law.  He  put  it  to  the  conscience  of  the  jury,  that 
under  both  he  was  entitled  to  a  verdict  of  Guilty. 

The  charge  of  Fairbrother  was  much  cramped  by  his  having 
failed  in  the  proof  which  he  expected  to  lead.  But  he  fought 
his  losing  cause  with  courage  and  constancy.  He  ventured  to 
arraign  the  severity  of  the  statute  under  which  the  young 
woman  was  tried.  "  In  all  other  cases, "  he  said,  "  the  first 
thing  required  of  the  criminal  prosecutor  was,  to  prove  un- 
equivocally that  the  crime  libelled  had  actually  been  com- 
mitted, which  lawyers  called  proving  the  corpus  delicti.  But 
this  statute,  made  doubtless  with  the  best  intentions,  and  un- 
der the  impulse  of  a  just  horror  for  the  unnatural  crime  of 
infanticide,  run  the  risk  of  itself  occasioning  the  worst  of  mur- 
ders, the  death  of  an  innocent  person,  to  atone  for  a  supposed 
crime  which  may  never  have  been  committed  by  any  one.  He 
was  so  far  from  acknowledging  the  alleged  probability  of  the 
child's  violent  death,  that  he  could  not  even  allow  that  there 
was  evidence  of  its  having  ever  lived." 

The  King's  Counsel  pointed  to  the  woman's  declaration;  to 
which  the  counsel  replied :  "  A  production  concocted  in  a  mo- 
ment of  terror  and  agony,  and  which  approached  to  insanity, 
he  said,  "  his  learned  brother  well  knew  was  no  sound  evidence 
against  the  party  whom  emitted  it.  It  was  true,  that  a  judi- 
cial confession,  in  presence  of  the  justices  themselves,  was  the 
strongest  of  all  proof,  in  so  much  that  it  is  said  in  law,  that 
'in  confitentem  nullce  sunt  partes  judicis.'  But  this  was  true 
of  judicial  confession  only,  by  which  law  meant  that  which  is 
made  in  presence  of  the  justices  and  the  sworn  inquest.  Of 
extrajudicial  confession,  all  authorities  held  with  the  illus- 
trious Farinaceus  and  Matheus,  'confessio  extrajudicialis  in  se 
nulla  est ;  et  quod  nullum  est,  non  potest  adminiculari.'  It 
was  totally  inept,  and  void  of  all  strength  and  effect  from  the 
beginning ;  incapable,  therefore,  of  being  bolstered  up  or  sup- 
ported, or,  according  to  the  law-phrase,  adminiculated,  by  other 
presumptive  circumstances.  In  the  present  case,  therefore, 
letting  the  extrajudicial  confession  go,  as  it  ought  to  go,  for 
nothing,"  he  contended,  "the  prosecutor  had  sot  made  out  the 


280 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


second  quality  of  the  statute,  that  a  live  child  had  been  born*, 
and  that,  at  least,  ought  to  be  established  before  presumptions 
were  received  that  it  had  been  murdered.  If  any  of  the  as- 
size/'he  said,  "should  be  of  opinion  that  this  was  dealing 
rather  narrowly  with  the  statute,  they  ought  to  consider  that 
it  was  in  its  nature  highly  penal,  and  therefore  entitled  to  no 
favourable  construction. " 

He  concluded  a  learned  speech  with  an  eloquent  peroration 
on  the  scene  they  had  just  witnessed,  during  which  Saddletree 
fell  fast  asleep. 

It  was  now  the  presiding  Judge's  turn  to  address  the  jury. 
He  did  so  briefly  and  distinctly. 

"It  was  for  the  jury,"  he  said,  "to  consider  whether  the 
prosecutor  had  made  out  his  plea.  For  himself,  he  sincerely 
grieved  to  say  that  a  shadow  of  doubt  remained  not  upon  his 
mind  concerning  the  verdict  which  the  inquest  had  to  bring 
in.  He  would  not  follow  the  prisoner's  counsel  through  the 
impeachment  which  he  had  brought  against  the  statute  of 
King  William  and  Queen  Mary.  He  and  the  jury  were  sworn 
to  judge  according  to  the  laws  as  they  stood,  not  to  criticise, 
or  to  evade,  or  even  to  justify  them.  In  no  civil  case  would 
a  counsel  have  been  permitted  to  plead  his  client's  case  in  the 
teeth  of  the  law ;  but  in  the  hard  situation  in  which  counsel 
were  often  placed  in  the  Criminal  Court,  as  well  as  out  of  fa- 
vour to  all  presumptious  of  innocence,  he  had  not  inclined  to 
interrupt  the  learned  gentleman,  or  narrow  his  plea.  The 
present  law,  as  it  now  stood,  had  been  instituted  by  the  wis- 
dom of  their  fathers,  to  check  the  alarming  progress  of  a  dread- 
ful crime;  when  it  was  found  too  severe  for  its  purpose,  it 
would  doubtless  be  altered  by  the  wisdom  of  the  legislature; 
at  present  it  was  the  law  of  the  land,  the  rule  of  the  court, 
and,  according  to  the  oath  which  they  had  taken,  it  must  be 
that  of  the  jury.  This  unhappy  girl's  situation  could  not  be 
doubted :  that  she  had  borne  a  child,  and  that  the  child  had 
disappeared,  were  certain  facts.  The  learned  counsel  had 
failed  to  show  that  she  had  communicated  her  situation.  All 
the  requisites  of  the  case  required  by  the  statute  were  there- 
fore before  the  jury.    The  learned  gentleman  had,  indeed,  de- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


281 


sired  them  to  throw  out  of  consideration  the  panel's  own  con- 
fession, which  was  the  plea  usually  urged,  in  penury  of  all 
others,  by  counsel  in  his  situation,  who  usually  felt  that  the 
declarations  of  their  clients  bore  hard  on  them.  But  that  the 
Scottish  law  designed  that  a  certain  weight  should  be  laid  on 
these  declarations,  which,  he  admitted,  were  quodammodo  ex- 
trajudicial, was  evident  from  the  universal  practice  by  which 
they  were  always  produced  and  read,  as  part  of  the  prosecutor's 
probation.  In  the  present  case,  no  person  who  had  heard  the 
witnesses  describe  the  appearance  of  the  young  woman  before 
she  left  Saddletree's  house,  and  contrasted  it  with  that  of  her 
state  and  condition  at  her  return  to  her  father's,  could  have 
any  doubt  that  the  fact  of  delivery  had  taken  place,  as  set 
forth  in  her  own  declaration,  which  was,  therefore,  not  a  soli- 
tary piece  of  testimony,  but  adminiculated  and  supported  by 
the  strongest  circumstantial  proof. 

"He  did  not,"  he  said,  "state  the  impression  upon  his  own 
mind  with  the  purpose  of  biassing  theirs.  He  had  felt  no  less 
than  they  had  done  from  the  scene  of  domestic  misery  which 
had  been  exhibited  before  them ;  and  if  they,  having  God  and 
a  good  conscience,  the  sanctity  of  their  oath,  and  the  regard 
due  to  the  law  of  the  country,  before  their  eyes,  could  come 
to  a  conclusion  favourable  to  this  unhappy  prisoner,  he  should 
rejoice  as  much  as  any  one  in  Court ;  for  never  had  he  found  his 
duty  more  distressing  than  in  discharging  it  that  day,  and  glad 
he  would  be  to  be  relieved  from  the  still  more  painful  task 
which  would  otherwise  remain  for  him." 

The  jury,  having  heard  the  Judge's  address,  bowed  and 
retired,  preceded  by  a  macer  of  Court,  to  the  apartment  des- 
tined for  their  deliberation. 


282 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Law,  take  thy  victim.    May  she  find  the  mercy 

In  yon  mild  heaven,  which  this  hard  world  denies  her ! 

It  was  an  hour  ere  the  jurors  returned,  and  as  they  traversed 
the  crowd  with  slow  steps,  as  men  about  to  discharge  themselves 
of  a  heavy  and  painful  responsibility,  the  audience  was  hushed 
into  profound,  earnest,  and  awful  silence. 

"  Have  you  agreed  on  your  chancellor,  gentlemen?"  was  the 
first  question  of  the  Judge. 

The  foreman,  called  in  Scotland  the  chancellor  of  the  jury, 
usually  the  man  of  best  rank  and  estimation  among  the  assiz- 
ers, stepped  forward,  and,  with  a  low  reverence,  delivered  to 
the  Court  a  sealed  paper,  containing  the  verdict,  which,  until 
of  late  years  that  verbal  returns  are  in  some  instances  per- 
mitted, was  always  couched  in  writing.  The  jury  remained 
standing  while  the  Judge  broke  the  seals,  and,  having  perused 
the  paper,  handed  it,  with  an  air  of  mournful  gravity,  down 
to  the  Clerk  of  Court,  who  proceeded  to  engross  in  the  record 
the  yet  unknown  verdict,  of  which,  however,  all  omened  the 
tragical  contents.  A  form  still  remained,  trifling  and  unim- 
portant in  itself,  but  to  which  imagination  adds  a  sort  of  sol- 
emnity, from  the  awful  occasion  upon  which  it  is  used.  A 
lighted  candle  was  placed  on  the  table,  the  original  paper 
containing  the  verdict  was  inclosed  hi  a  sheet  of  paper,  and, 
sealed  with  the  Judge's  own  signet,  was  transmitted  to  the 
Crown  Office,  to  be  preserved  among  other  records  of  the  same 
kind.  As  all  this  is  transacted  in  profound  silence,  the  pro- 
ducing and  extinguishing  the  candle  seems  a  type  of  the  hu- 
man spark  which  is  shortly  afterwards  doomed  to  be  quenched, 
and  excites  in  the  spectators  something  of  the  same  effect 
which  in  England  is  obtained  by  the  Judge  assuming  the  fatal 
cap  of  judgment.  When  these  preliminary  forms  had  been 
gone  through,  the  Judge  required  Euphemia  Deans  to  attend 
to  the  verdict  to  be  read. 

After  the  usual  words  of  style,  the  verdict  set  forth,  that 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


283 


the  jury,  having  made  choice  of  John  Kirk,  Esq.,  to  be  then 
chancellor,  and  Thomas  Moore,  merchant,  to  be  their  clerk, 
did,  by  a  plurality  of  voices,  find  the  said  Euphemia  Deans 
Guilty  of  the  crime  libelled;  but,  in  consideration  of  her  ex- 
treme yonth,  and  the  cruel  circumstances  of  her  case,  did  ear- 
nestly entreat  the  Judge  would  recommend  her  to  the  mercy 
of  the  Crown. 

"  Gentlemen, "  said  the  Judge,  "  you  have  done  your  duty, 
and  a  painful  one  it  must  have  been  to  men  of  humanity  like 
you.  I  will,  undoubtedly,  transmit  your  recommendation  to 
the  throne.  But  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  all  who  now  hear  me, 
but  especially  to  inform  that  unhappy  young  woman,  in  order 
that  her  mind  may  be  settled  accordingly,  that  I  have  not  the 
least  hope  of  a  pardon  being  granted  in  the  present  case. 
You  know  the  crime  has  been  increasing  in  this  land,  and  I 
know  farther,  that  this  has  been  ascribed  to  the  lenity  in 
which  the  laws  have  been  exercised,  and  that  there  is  there- 
fore no  hope  whatever  of  obtaining  a  remission  for  this  offence." 
The  jury  bowed  again,  and,  released  from  their  painful  office, 
dispersed  themselves  among  the  mass  of  bystanders. 

The  Court  then  asked  Mr.  Eairbrother  whether  he  had  any- 
thing to  say,  why  judgment  should  not  follow  on  the  verdict? 
The  counsel  had  spent  some  time  in  perusing  and  re-perusing 
the  verdict,  counting  the  letters  in  each  juror's  name,  and 
weighing  every  phrase,  nay,  every  syllable,  in  the  nicest  scales 
of  legal  criticism.  But  the  clerk  of  the  jury  had  understood 
his  business  too  well.  No  flaw  was  to  be  found,  and  Fair- 
brother  mournfully  intimated  that  he  had  nothing  to  say  in 
arrest  of  judgment. 

The  presiding  Judge  then  addressed  the  unhappy  prisoner : 
"  Euphemia  Deans,  attend  to  the  sentence  of  the  Court  now 
to  be  pronounced  against  you. 99 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  and  with  a  composure  far  greater 
than  could  have  been  augured  from  her  demeanour  during 
some  parts  of  the  trial,  abode  the  conclusion  of  the  awful 
scene.  So  nearly  does  the  mental  portion  of  our  feelings  re- 
semble those  which  are  corporal,  that  the  first  severe  blows 
which  we  receive  bring  with  them  a  stunning  apathy,  which 


284 


WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS. 


renders  us  indifferent  to  those  that  follow  them.  Thus  said 
Mandrin,1  when  he  was  undergoing  the  punishment  of  the 
wheel ;  and  so  have  all  felt  upon  whom  successive  inflictions 
have  descended  with  continuous  and  reiterated  violence. 

"  Young  woman, "  said  the  Judge,  "  it  is  my  painful  duty  to 
tell  you,  that  your  life  is  forfeited  under  a  law  which,  if  it 
may  seem  in  some  degree  severe,  is  yeb  wisely  so,  to  render 
those  of  your  unhappy  situation  aware  what  risk  they  run, 
by  concealing,  out  of  pride  or  false  shame,  their  lapse  from 
virtue,  and  making  no  preparation  to  save  the  lives  of  the 
unfortunate  infants  whom  they  are  to  bring  into  the  world. 
When  you  concealed  your  situation  from  your  mistress,  your 
sister,  and  other  worthy  and  compassionate  persons  of  your 
own  sex,  in  whose  favour  your  former  conduct  had  given  you 
a  fair  place,  you  seem  to  me  to  have  had  in  your  contempla- 
tion, at  least,  the  death  of  the  helpless  creature  for  whose  life 
you  neglected  to  provide.  How  the  child  was  disposed  of — 
whether  it  was  dealt  upon  by  another,  or  by  yourself ;  wheth- 
er the  extraordinary  story  you  have  told  is  partly  false,  or  al- 
together so,  is  between  God  and  your  own  conscience.  I  will 
not  aggravate  your  distress  by  pressing  on  that  topic,  but  I  do 
most  solemnly  adjure  you  to  employ  the  remaining  space  of 
your  time  in  making  your  peace  with  God,  for  which  purpose 
such  reverend  clergyman  as  you  yourself  may  name  shall  have 
access  to  you.  Notwithstanding  the  humane  recommendation 
of  the  jury,  I  cannot  afford  to  you,  in  the  present  circum- 
stances of  the  country,  the  slightest  hope  that  your  life  will 
be  prolonged  beyond  the  period  assigned  for  the  execution  of 
your  sentence.  Forsaking,  therefore,  the  thoughts  of  this 
world,  let  your  mind  be  prepared  by  repentance  for  those  of 
more  awful  moments — for  death,  judgment,  and  eternity. 
Doomster,2  read  the  sentence." 

When  the  doomster  showed  himself,  a  tall  haggard  figure, 
arrayed  in  a  fantastic  garment  of  black  and  grey,  passemented 
with  silver  lace,  all  fell  back  with  a  sort  of  instinctive  horror, 

1  He  was  known  as  captain  -general  of  French  smugglers.  See  a  Tract 
on  his  exploits,  printed  1753  {Laing). 

2  See  Note  26. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


285 


and  made  wide  way  for  him  to  approach  the  foot  of  the  table. 
As  this  office  was  held  by  the  common  executioner,  men  shoul- 
dered each  other  backward  to  avoid  even  the  touch  of  his  gar- 
ment, and  some  were  seen  to  brush  their  own  clothes,  which 
had  accidentally  become  subject  to  such  contamination.  A 
sound  went  through  the  court,  produced  by  each  person  draw- 
ing in  their  breath  hard,  as  men  do  when  they  expect  or  wit- 
ness what  is  frightful,  and  at  the  same  time  affecting.  The 
caitiff  villain  yet  seemed,  amid  his  hardened  brutality,  to  have 
some  sense  of  his  being  the  object  of  public  detestation,  which 
made  him  impatient  of  being  in  public,  as  birds  of  evil  omen 
are  anxious  to  escape  from  daylight  and  from  pure  air. 

Eepeating  after  the  Clerk  of  Court,  he  gabbled  over  the 
words  of  the  sentence,  which  condemned  Euphemia  Deans  to 
be  conducted  back  to  the  tolbooth  of  Edinburgh,  and  detained 

there  until  Wednesday  the  day  of  ;  and  upon  that 

day,  betwixt  the  hours  of  two  and  four  o'clock  afternoon,  to 
be  conveyed  to  the  common  place  of  execution,  and  there 
hanged  by  the  neck  upon  a  gibbet.  "And  this,"  said  the 
doomster,  aggravating  his  harsh  voice,  "I  pronounce  for 
doom. " 

He  vanished  when  he  had  spoken  the  last  emphatic  word, 
like  a  foul  fiend  after  the  purpose  of  his  visitation  has  been 
accomplished ;  but  the  impression  of  horror  excited  by  his  pre- 
sence and  his  errand  remained  upon  the  crowd  of  spectators. 

The  unfortunate  criminal — for  so  she  must  now  be  termed — 
with  more  susceptibility  and  more  irritable  feelings  than  her 
father  and  sister,  was  found,  in  this  emergence,  to  possess  a 
considerable  share  of  their  courage.  She  had  remained  stand- 
ing motionless  at  the  bar  while  the  sentence  was  pronounced, 
and  was  observed  to  shut  her  eyes  when  the  doomster  appeared. 
But  she  was  the  first  to  break  silence  when  that  evil  form  had 
left  his  place. 

"  God  forgive  ye,  my  lords, "  she  said,  "  and  dinna  be  angry 
wi'  me  for  wishing  it — we  a?  need  forgiveness.  As  for  my- 
self, I  canna  blame  ye,  for  ye  act  up  to  your  lights ;  and  if  I 
havena  killed  my  poor  infant,  ye  may  witness  a?  that  hae  seen 
it  this  day,  that  I  hae  been  the  means  of  killing  my  grey- 


286 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


headed  father.  I  deserve  the  warst  frae  man,  and  frae  God 
too.  But  God  is  mair  mercilV  to  us  than  we  are  to  each 
other. " 

With  these  words  the  trial  concluded.  The  crowd  rushed, 
bearing  forward  and  shouldering  each  other,  out  of  the  court 
in  the  same  tumultuary  mode  in  which  they  had  entered ;  and, 
in  the  excitation  of  animal  motion  and  animal  spirits,  soon 
forgot  whatever  they  had  felt  as  impressive  in  the  scene  which 
they  had  witnessed.  The  professional  spectators,  whom  habit 
and  theory  had  rendered  as  callous  to  the  distress  of  the  scene 
as  medical  men  are  to  those  of  a  surgical  operation,  walked 
homeward  in  groups,  discussing  the  general  principle  of  the 
statute  under  which  the  young  woman  was  condemned,  the 
nature  of  the  evidence,  and  the  arguments  of  the  counsel, 
without  considering  even  that  of  the  Judge  as  exempt  from 
their  criticism. 

The  female  spectators,  more  compassionate,  were  loud  in 
exclamation  against  that  part  of  the  Judge's  speech  which 
seemed  to  cut  off  the  hope  of  pardon. 

"Set  him  up,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Howden,  "to  tell  us  that 
the  poor  lassie  behoved  to  die,  when  Mr.  John  Kirk,  as  civil 
a  gentleman  as  is  within  the  ports  of  the  town,  took  the  pains 
to  prigg  for  her  him  sell. " 

"  Ay,  but,  neighbour, "  said  Miss  Damahoy,  drawing  up  her 
thin  maidenly  form  to  its  full  height  of  prim  dignity,  "  I  really 
think  this  unnatural  business  of  having  bastard  bairns  should 
be  putten  a  stop  to.  There  isna  a  hussy  now  on  this  side  of 
thirty  that  you  can  bring  within  your  doors,  but  there  will 
be  chields  — writer-lads,  prentice-lads,  and  what  not — coming 
traiking  after  them  for  their  destruction,  and  discrediting  ane's 
honest  house  into  the  bargain.    I  hae  nae  patience  wi'  them. " 

"Hout,  neighbour,"  said  Mrs.  Howden,  "we  suld  live  and 
let  live ;  we  hae  been  young  oursells,  and  we  are  no  aye  to 
judge  the  warst  when  lads  and  lasses  forgather." 

"Young  oursells!  and  judge  the  warst!"  said  Miss  Dama- 
hoy. "  I  am  no  sae  auld  as  that  comes  to,  Mrs.  Howden;  and 
as  for  what  ye  ca?  the  warst,  I  ken  neither  good  nor  bad  about 
the  matter,  I  thank  my  stars!" 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


287 


"Ye  are  thankfu'  for  sma'  mercies,  then,"  said  Mrs.  How- 
den,  with  a  toss  of  her  head ;  "  and  as  for  you  and  young — 
I  trow  ye  were  doing  for  yoursell  at  the  last  riding  of  the  Scots 
Parliament,  and  that  was  m  the  gracious  year  seven,  sae  ye 
can  be  nae  sic  chicken  at  ony  rate." 

Plumdamas,  who  acted  as  squire  of  the  body  to  the  two  con- 
tending dames,  instantly  saw  the  hazard  of  entering  into  such 
delicate  points  of  chronology,  and  being  a  lover  of  peace  and 
good  neighbourhood,  lost  no  time  in  bringing  back  the  conver- 
sation to  its  original  subject.  "  The  Judge  didna  tell  us  a'  he 
could  hae  tell'd  us,  if  he  had  liked,  about  the  application  for 
pardon,  neighbours, "  said  he ;  "  there  is  aye  a  wimple  in  a 
lawyer's  clue;  but  it's  a  wee  bit  of  a  secret." 

"  And  what  is't? — what  is' t,  neighbour  Plumdamas?"  said 
Mrs.  Howden  and  Miss  Damahoy  at  once,  the  acid  fermenta- 
tion of  their  dispute  being  at  once  neutralised  by  the  powerful 
alkali  implied  in  the  word  "  secret." 

"Here's  Mr.  Saddletree  can  tell  ye  that  better  than  me,  for 
it  was  him  that  tauld  me,"  said  Plumdamas,  as  Saddletree 
came  up,  with  his  wife  hanging  on  bis  arm  and  looking  very 
disconsolate. 

When  the  question  was  put  to  Saddletree,  he  looked  very 
scornful.  "  They  speak  about  stopping  the  frequency  of  child- 
murder,  "  said  he,  in  a  contemptuous  tone ;  "  do  ye  think  our 
auld  enemies  of  England,  as  Glendook  aye  ca's  them  in 
his  printed  Statute-book,  care  a  boddle  whether  we  didna  kill 
ane  anither,  skin  and  birn,  horse  and  foot,  man,  woman,  and 
bairns,  all  and  sindry,  omnes  et  singulos,  as  Mr.  Crossmyloof 
says?  Na,  na,  it's  no  that  hinders  them  frae  pardoning  the 
bit  lassie.  But  here  is  the  pinch  of  the  plea.  The  king  and 
queen  are  sae  ill  pleased  wi'  that  mistak  about  Porteous,  that 
deil  a  kindly  Scot  will  they  pardon  again,  either  by  reprieve 
or  remission,  if  the  haill  town  o'  Edinburgh  should  be  a' 
hanged  on  ae  tow." 

"  Deil  that  they  were  back  at  their  German  kale-yard  then, 
as  my  neighbour  MacCroskie  ca's  it,"  said  Mrs.  Howden,  "an 
that's  the  way  they're  gaun  to  guide  us!" 

"They  say  for  certain,"  said  Miss  Damahoy,  "that  King 


288 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


George  flang  his  periwig  in  the  fire  when  he  heard  o'  the 
Porteous  mob." 

"He  has  done  that,  they  say,"  replied  Saddletree,  "for  less 
thing." 

"Aweel,"  said  Miss  Damahoy,  "he  might  keep  mair  wit 
in  his  anger;  but  it's  a'  the  better  for  his  wigmaker,  I'se 
warrant. " 

"  The  queen  tore  her  biggonets  for  perfect  anger,  ye'll  hae 
heard  o'  that  too?"  said  Plumdamas.  "And  the  king,  they 
say,  kickit  Sir  Robert  Walpole  for  no  keeping  down  the 
mob  of  Edinburgh ;  but  I  dinna  believe  he  wad  behave  sae  un- 
genteel. " 

"It's  dooms  truth,  though,"  said  Saddletree;  "and  he  was 
for  kickin  the  Duke  of  Argyle  1  too." 

"Kickin  the  Duke  of  Argyle!"  exclaimed  the  hearers  at 
once,  in  all  the  various  combined  keys  of  utter  astonishment. 

"Ay,  but  MacCallummore's  blood  wadna  sit  down  wi'  that; 
there  was  risk  of  Andro  Ferrara  coining  in  thirdsman." 

"  The  Duke  is  a  real  Scotsman — a  true  friend  to  the  coun- 
try," answered  Saddletree's  hearers. 

"  Ay,  troth  is  he,  to  king  and  country  baith,  as  ye  sail  hear, " 
continued  the  orator,  "  if  ye  will  come  in  bye  to  our  house,  for 
it's  safest  speaking  of  sic  things  inter parietes" 

When  they  entered  his  shop  he  thrust  his  prentice  boy  out 
of  it,  and,  unlocking  his  desk,  took  out,  with  an  air  of  grave 
and  complacent  importance,  a  dirty  and  crumpled  piece  of 
printed  paper.  He  observed:  "This  is  new  corn;  it's  no 
everybody  could  show  ye  the  like  o'  this.  It's  the  Duke's 
speech  about  the  Porteous  mob,  just  promulgated  by  the 
hawkers.  Ye  shall  hear  what  Ian  Eoy  Cean 2  says  for  hini- 
sell.  My  correspondent  bought  it  in  the  palace-yard,  that's 
like  just  under  the  king's  nose.  I  think  he  claws  up  their 
mittens !  It  came  in  a  letter  about  a  foolish  bill  of  exchange 
that  the  man  wanted  me  to  renew  for  him.  I  wish  ye  wad 
see  about  it,  Mrs.  Saddletree." 

1  See  John  Duke  of  Argyle  and  Greenwich.    Note  27. 

2  Red  John  the  Warrior,  a  name  personal  and  proper  in  the  Highlands 
to  John  Duke  of  Argyle  and  Greenwich,  as  MacCummin  was  that  of  his 
race  or  dynasty. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


289 


Honest  Mrs.  Saddletree  had  hitherto  been  so  sincerely  dis- 
tressed about  the  situation  of  her  unfortunate  protegee,  that 
she  had  suffered  her  husband  to  proceed  in  his  own  way,  with- 
out attending  to  what  he  was  saying.  The  words  "  bill"  and 
"  renew"  had,  however,  an  awakening  sound  in  them ;  and  she 
snatched  the  letter  which  her  husband  held  towards  her,  and 
wiping  her  eyes,  and  putting  on  her  spectacles,  endeavoured, 
as  fast  as  the  dew  which  collected  on  her  glasses  would  per- 
mit, to  get  at  the  meaning  of  the  needful  part  of  the  epistle ; 
while  her  husband,  with  pompous  elevation,  read  an  extract 
from  the  speech. 

"  I  am  no  minister,  I  never  was  a  minister,  and  I  never  will 
be  one  " 

"Ididnaken  his  Grace  was  ever  designed  for  the  ministry/' 
interrupted  Mrs.  How  den. 

"  He  disna  mean  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  Mrs.  Howden, 
but  a  minister  of  state,"  said  Saddletree,  with  condescending 
goodness,  and  then  proceeded :  "  The  time  was  when  I  might 
have  been  a  piece  of  a  minister,  but  I  was  too  sensible  of  my 
own  incapacity  to  engage  in  any  state  affair.  And  I  thank 
God  that  I  had  always  too  great  a  value  for  those  few  abilities 
which  nature  has  given  me,  to  employ  them  in  doing  any 
drudgery,  or  any  job  of  what  kind  soever.  I  have,  ever  since 
I  set  out  in  the  world — and  I  believe  few  have  set  out  more 
early — served  my  prince  with  my  tongue ;  I  have  served  him 
with  any  little  interest  I  had ;  and  I  have  served  him  with 
my  sword,  and  in  my  profession  of  arms.  I  have  held  em- 
ployments which  I  have  lost,  and  were  I  to  be  to-morrow  de- 
prived of  those  which  still  remain  to  me,  and  which  I  have 
endeavoured  honestly  to  deserve,  I  would  still  serve  him  to 
the  last  acre  of  my  inheritance,  and  to  the  last  drop  of  my 
blood."  

Mrs.  Saddletree  here  broke  in  upon  the  orator.  "Mr. 
Saddletree,  what  is  the  meaning  of  a?  this?  Here  are  ye 
clavering  about  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  and  this  man  Martingale 
gaun  to  break  on  our  hands,  and  lose  us  gude  sixty  pounds. 
I  wonder  what  duke  will  pay  that,  quotha.  I  wish  the  Duke 
of  Argyle  would  pay  his  ain  accounts.  He  is  in  a  thousand 
19 


290 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


punds  Scots  on  thae  very  books  when  he  was  last  at  Koystoun. 
I'm  no  saying  but  he's  a  just  nobleman,  and  that  it's  gude 
siller ;  but  it  wad  drive  ane  daft  to  be  confused  wi'  deukes  and 
drakes,  and  thae  distressed  folk  upstairs,  that's  Jeanie  Deans 
and  her  father.  And  then,  putting  the  very  callant  that  was 
sewing  the  curpel  out  o'  the  shop,  to  play  wi'  blackguards  in 
the  close.  Sit  still,  neighbours,  it's  no  that  I  mean  to  disturb 
you  ;  but  what  between  courts  o'  law  and  courts  o'  state,  and 
upper  and  under  parliaments,  and  parliament  houses,  here  and 
in  London,  the  gudeman's  gane  clean  gyte,  I  think." 

The  gossips  understood  civility,  and  the  rule  of  doing  as 
they  would  be  done  by,  too  well  to  tarry  upon  the  slight  invi- 
tation implied  in  the  conclusion  of  this  speech,  and  therefore 
made  their  farewells  and  departure  as  fast  as  possible,  Saddle- 
tree whispering  to  Plumdamas  that  he  would  "  meet  him  at 
MacCroskie's  (the  low-browed  shop  in  the  Luckenbooths 
[Lawnmarket],  already  mentioned)  in  the  hour  of  cause,  and 
put  MacCallummore's  speech  in  his  pocket,  for  a'  the  gude- 
wife's  din." 

When  Mrs.  Saddletree  saw  the  house  freed  of  her  importu- 
nate visitors,  and  the  little  boy  reclaimed  from  the  pastimes  of 
the  wynd  to  the  exercise  of  the  awl,  she  went  to  visit  her  un- 
happy relative,  David  Deans,  and  his  elder  daughter,  who  had 
found  in  her  house  the  nearest  place  of  friendly  refuge. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Isab.  Alas  !  what  poor  ability's  in  me 

To  do  him  good  ? 
Imcio.  Assay  the  power  you  have. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

When  Mrs.  Saddletree  entered  the  apartment  in  which  her 
guests  had  shrouded  their  misery,  she  found  the  window  dark- 
ened. The  feebleness  which  followed  his  long  swoon  had  ren- 
dered it  necessary  to  lay  the  old  man  in  bed.  The  curtains 
were  drawn  around  him,  and  Jeanie  sate  motionless  by  the 
side  of  the  bed.    Mrs.  Saddletree  was  a  woman  of  kindness, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


291 


nay,  of  feeling,  but  not  of  delicacy.  She  opened  the  half-shut 
window,  drew  aside  the  curtain,  and  taking  her  kinsman  by 
the  hand,  exhorted  him  to  sit  up  and  bear  his  sorrow  like  a 
good  man,  and  a  Christian  man,  as  he  was.  But  when  she 
quitted  his  hand  it  fell  powerless  by  his  side,  nor  did  he  at- 
tempt the  least  reply. 

"Is  all  over?"  asked  Jeanie,  with  lips  and  cheeks  as  pale 
as  ashes.    "And  is  there  nae  hope  for  her?" 

"  ISTane,  or  next  to  nane, "  said  Mrs.  Saddletree ;  "  I  heard 
the  Judge-carle  say  it  with  my  ain  ears.  It  was  a  burning 
shame  to  see  sae  mony  o'  them  set  up  yonder  in  their  red 
gowns  and  black  gowns,  and  a'  to  take  the  life  o'  a  bit  sense- 
less lassie.  I  had  never  muckle  broo  o'  my  gudeman's  gos- 
sips, and  now  I  like  them  waur  than  ever.  The  only  wise- 
like thing  I  heard  ony  body  say  was  decent  Mr.  John  Kirk 
of  Kirk  Knowe,  and  he  wussed  them  just  to  get  the  king's 
mercy,  and  nae  mair  about  it.  But  he  spake  to  unreasonable 
folk;  he  might  just  hae  keepit  his  breath  to  hae  blawn  on  his 
porridge. " 

"  But  can  the  king  gie  her  mercy?"  said  Jeanie,  earnestly. 

"  Some  folk  tell  me  he  canna  gie  mercy  in  cases  of  mur  

in  cases  like  hers." 

"  Can  he  gie  mercy,  hinny?  I  weel  I  wot  he  can,  when  he 
likes.  There  was  young  Singles  word,  that  stickit  the  Laird 
of  Ballencleuch ;  and  Captain  Hackum,  the  Englishman,  that 
killed  Lady  Colgrain's  gudeman;  and  the  Master  of  St.  Clair, 
that  shot  the  twa  Shaws ; 1  and  mony  mair  in  my  time — to  be 
sure  they  were  gentle  bluid,  and  had  their  kin  to  speak  for 
them — and  there  was  Jock  Porteous,  the  other  day.  Fse 
warrant  there's  mercy,  an  folk  could  win  at  it." 

"Porteous!"  said  Jeanie;  "very  true.  I  forget  a' that  I 
suld  maist  mind.  Pare  ye  weel,  Mrs.  Saddletree;  and  may 
ye  never  want  a  friend  in  the  hour  o'  distress!" 

"Will  ye  no  stay  wi'  your  father,  Jeanie,  bairn?  Ye  had 
better,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree. 

"  I  will  be  wanted  ower  yonder, "  indicating  the  tolbooth 
with  her  hand,  "  and  I  maun  leave  him  now,  or  I  will  nevei 
1  See  Murder  of  the  Two  Shaws.   Note  28. 


292 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


be  able  to  leave  him.  I  f earna  for  his  life ;  I  ken  how  strong- 
hearted  he  is — I  ken  it, "  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  her 
bosom,  "  by  my  ain  heart  at  this  minute. " 

"  Weel,  hinny,  if  ye  think  it's  for  the  best,  better  he  stay 
here  and  rest  him  than  gang  back  to  St.  Leonard's." 

"  Muckle  better — muckle  better ;  God  bless  you — God  bless 
you !  At  no  rate  let  him  gang  till  ye  hear  f rae  me, "  said 
Jeanie. 

"But  ye'll  be  back  belyve?"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  detain- 
ing her;  "they  wunna  let  ye  stay  yonder,  hinny." 

"But  I  maun  gang  to  St.  Leonard's;  there's  muckle  to  be 
dune  and  little  time  to  do  it  in.  And  I  have  friends  to  speak 
to.    God  bless  you!  take  care  of  my  father." 

She  had  reached  the  door  of  the  apartment,  when  suddenly 
turning,  she  came  back  and  knelt  down  by  the  bedside.  "  0 
father,  gie  me  your  blessing ;  I  dare  not  go  till  ye  bless  me. 
Say  but  'God  bless  ye  and  prosper  ye,  Jeanie';  try  but  to 
say  that!" 

Instinctively,  rather  than  by  an  exertion  of  intellect,  the 
old  man  murmured  a  prayer  that  "  purchased  and  promised 
blessings  might  be  multiplied  upon  her." 

"He  has  blessed  mine  errand,"  said  his  daughter,  rising 
from  her  knees,  "  and  it  is  borne  in  upon  my  mind  that  I  shall 
prosper." 

So  saying,  she  left  the  room. 

Mrs.  Saddletree  looked  after  her,  and  shook  her  head.  "  I 
wish  she  binna  roving,  poor  thing.  There's  something  queer 
about  a'  thae  Deanses.  I  dinna  like  folk  to  be  sae  muckle 
better  than  other  folk;  seldom  comes  gude  o't.  But  if  she's 
gaun  to  look  after  the  kye  at  St.  Leonard's,  that's  another 
story ;  to  be  sure  they  maun  be  sorted.  Grizzie,  come  up  here 
and  take  tent  to  the  honest  auld  man  and  see  he  wants  nae- 
thing.  Ye  silly  tawpie  (addressing  the  maid-servant  as  she 
entered),  what  garr'd  ye  busk  up  your  cockernony  that  gate? 
I  think  there's  been  eneugh  the  day  to  gie  an  awfu'  warning 
about  your  cock-ups  and  your  fal-lal  duds ;  see  what  they  a' 
come  to,"  etc.  etc.  etc. 

Leaving  the  good  lady  to  her  lecture  upon  worldly  vanities, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


293 


we  must  transport  our  reader  to  the  cell  in  which,  the  unfortu- 
nate Effie  Deans  was  now  immured,  being  restricted  of  several 
liberties  which  she  had  enjoyed  before  the  sentence  was  pro- 
nounced. 

When  she  had  remained  about  an  hour  in  the  state  of  stupi- 
fied  horror  so  natural  in  her  situation,  she  was  disturbed  by 
the  opening  of  the  jarring  bolts  of  her  place  of  confinement, 
and  Katcliffe  showed  himself.  "It's  your  sister,"  he  said, 
"wants  to  speak  t'ye,  Effie." 

"  I  canna  see  naebody, "  said  Effie,  with  the  hasty  irritabil- 
ity which  misery  had  rendered  more  acute — "  I  canna  see  nae- 
body, and  least  of  a?  her.  Bid  her  take  care  of  the  auld  man : 
I  am  naething  to  ony  o'  them  now,  nor  them  to  me." 

"  She  says  she  maun  see  ye,  though, "  said  Katcliff e ;  and 
Jeanie,  rushing  into  the  apartment,  threw  her  arms  round  her 
sister's  neck,  who  writhed  to  extricate  herself  from  her  em- 
brace. 

"  What  signifies  coming  to  greet  ower  me, 99  said  poor  Ef- 
fie, "when  you  have  killed  me?  killed  me,  when  a  word  of 
your  mouth  would  have  saved  me ;  killed  me,  when  I  am  an 
innocent  creature — innocent  of  that  guilt  at  least — and  me 
that  wad  hae  wared  body  and  soul  to  save  your  finger  from 
being  hurt!" 

"You  shall  not  die,"  said  Jeanie,  with  enthusiastic  firm- 
ness ;  "say  what  ye  like  oJ  me,  think  what  ye  like  o'  me,  only 
promise — for  I  doubt  your  proud  heart — that  ye  wunna  harm 
yourself,  and  you  shall  not  die  this  shameful  death. 99 

"A  shameful  death  I  will  not  die,  Jeanie,  lass.  I  have 
that  in  my  heart,  though  it  has  been  ower  kind  a  ane,  that 
wunna  bide  shame.  Gae  hame  to  our  father,  and  think  nae 
mair  on  me:  I  have  eat  my  last  earthly  meal." 

"Oh,  this  was  what  I  feared!"  said  Jeanie. 

"Hout,  tout,  ninny,"  said  Ratcliffe;  "it's  but  little  ye  ken 
o'  thae  things.  Ane  aye  thinks  at  the  first  dinnle  o?  the  sen- 
tence, they  hae  heart  eneugh  to  die  rather  than  bide  out  the 
sax  weeks ;  but  they  aye  bide  the  sax  weeks  out  for  a?  that. 
I  ken  the  gate  o'tweel;  I  hae  fronted  the  doomster  three 
times,  and  here  I  stand,  Jim  Ratcliffe,  for  a'  that.    Had  I 


294 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


tied  my  napkin  strait  the  first  time,  as  I  had  a  great  mind 
till't — and  it  was  a'  about  a  bit  grey  cowt,  wasna  worth  ten 
punds  sterling — where  would  I  have  been  now?" 

"And  how  did  you  escape?"  said  Jeanie,  the  fates  of  this 
man,  at  first  so  odious  to  her,  having  acquired  a  sudden  inter- 
est in  her  eyes  from  their  correspondence  with  those  of  her 
sister. 

"  How  did  I  escape?"  said  E-atcliffe,  with  a  knowing  wink. 
"  I  tell  ye  I  'scapit  in  a  way  that  naebody  will  escape  from 
this  tolbooth  while  I  keep  the  keys." 

"My  sister  shall  come  out  in  the  face  of  the  sun,"  said 
Jeanie ;  "  I  will  go  to  London  and  beg  her  pardon  from  the 
king  and  queen.  If  they  pardoned  Porteous,  they  may  par- 
don her;  if  a  sister  asks  a  sister's  life  on  her  bended  knees, 
they  will  pardon  her — they  shall  pardon  her — and  they  will 
win  a  thousand  hearts  by  it. " 

Effie  listened  in  bewildered  astonishment,  and  so  earnest 
was  her  sister's  enthusiastic  assurance,  that  she  almost  invol- 
untarily caught  a  gleam  of  hope ;  but  it  instantly  faded  away. 

"  Ah,  Jeanie !  the  king  and  queen  live  in  London,  a  thou- 
sand miles  from  this — far  ayont  the  saut  sea;  I'll  be  gane 
before  ye  win  there!" 

"You  are  mistaen,"  said  Jeanie;  "it  is  no  sae  far,  and 
they  go  to  it  by  land :  I  learned  something  about  thae  things 
from  Reuben  Butler." 

"Ah,  Jeanie!  ye  never  learned  ony  thing  but  what  was 

gude  frae  the  folk  ye  keepit  company  wi' ;  but  I — but  I  " 

she  wrung  her  hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

"Dinna  think  on  that  now,"  said  Jeanie;  "there  will  be 
time  for  that  if  the  present  space  be  redeemed.  Fare  ye  weel ! 
Unless  I  die  by  the  road,  I  will  see  the  king's  face  that  gies 
grace.  Oh,  sir  (to  Ratcliffe),  be  kind  to  her.  She  ne'er 
kenn'd  what  it  was  to  need  stranger's  kindness  till  now." 
Fareweel — fareweel,  Effie!  Dinna  speak  to  me;  I  maunna 
greet  now,  my  head's  ower  dizzy  already  !" 

She  tore  herself  from  her  sister's  arms,  and  left  the  cell. 
Ratcliffe  followed  her,  and  beckoned  her  into  a  small  room. 
She  obeyed  his  signal,  but  not  without  trembling. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


295 


"What's  the  fule  thing  shaking  for?"  said  he;  "I  mean 
nothing  but  civility  to  you.  D — n  me,  I  respect  you,  and  I 
can't  help  it.  You  have  so  much  spunk,  that — d — n  me,  but 
I  think  there's  some  chance  of  your  carrying  the  day.  But 
you  must  not  go  to  the  king  till  you  have  made  some  friend ; 
try  the  Duke — try  MacCallummore ;  he's  Scotland's  friend. 
I  ken  that  the  great  folks  dinna  muckle  like  him ;  but  they 
fear  him,  and  that  will  serve  your  purpose  as  weel.  D'ye  ken 
naebody  wad  gie  ye  a  letter  to  him?" 

"Duke  of  Argyle!"  said  Jeanie,  recollecting  herself  sud- 
denly. "  What  was  he  to  that  Argyle  that  suffered  in  my 
father's  time — in  the  persecution?" 

"His  son  or  grandson,  I'm  thinking,"  said  Eatcliffe;  "but 
what  o'  that?" 

"Thank  God!"  said  Jeanie,  devoutly  clasping  her  hands. 

"  You  Whigs  are  aye  thanking  God  for  something, "  said  the 
ruffian.  "  But  hark  ye,  hinny,  I'll  tell  ye  a  secret.  Ye  may 
meet  wi'  rough  customers  on  the  Border,  or  in  the  Midland, 
afore  ye  get  to  Lunnon.  Now,  deil  ane  o'  them  will  touch  an 
acquaintance  o'  Daddie  Eatton's;  for  though  I  am  retired 
frae  public  practice,  yet  they  ken  I  can  do  a  gude  or  an  ill 
turn  yet ;  and  deil  a  gude  fellow  that  has  been  but  a  twelve- 
month on  the  lay,  be  he  ruffier  or  padder,  but  he  knows  my 
gybe  as  well  as  the  jark  of  e'er  a  queer  cuffin  in  England,— 
and  there's  rogue's  Latin  for  you." 

It  was,  indeed,  totally  unintelligible  to  Jeanie  Deans,  who 
was  only  impatient  to  escape  from  him.  He  hastily  scrawled 
a  line  or  two  on  a  dirty  piece  of  paper,  and  said  to  her,  as  she 
drew  back  when  he  offered  it :  "  Hey !  what  the  deil!  it  wunna 
bite  you,  my  lass ;  if  it  does  nae  gude,  it  can  do  nae  ill.  But 
I  wish  you  to  show  it,  if  you  have  ony  fasherie  wi'  ony  o'  St. 
Nicholas's  clerks." 

"Alas!"  said  she,  "I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean?" 

"  I  mean,  if  ye  fall  among  thieves,  my  precious ;  that  is  a 
Scripture  phrase,  if  ye  will  hae  ane.  The  bauldest  of  them 
will  ken  a  scart  o'  my  guse  feather.  And  now  awa'  wi'  ye  and 
stick  to  Argyle;  if  ony  body  can  do  the  job,  it  maun  be  him." 

After  casting  an  anxious  look  at  the  grated  windows  and 


296 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


blackened  walls  of  the  old  tolbooth,  and  another  scarce  less 
anxious  at  the  hospitable  lodging  of  Mrs.  Saddletree,  Jeanie 
turned  her  back  on  that  quarter,  and  soon  after  on  the  city 
itself.  She  reached  St.  Leonard's  Crags  without  meeting  any 
one  whom  she  knew,  which,  in  the  state  of  her  mind,  she  con- 
sidered as  a  great  blessing.  "  I  must  do  naething, "  she  thought, 
as  she  went  along,  "that  can  soften  or  weaken  my  heart:  it's 
ower  weak  already  for  what  I  hae  to  do.  I  will  think  and  act 
as  firmly  as  I  can,  and  speak  as  little." 

There  was  an  ancient  servant,  or  rather  cottar,  of  her  fa- 
ther's, who  lived  under  him  for  many  years,  and  whose  fidel- 
ity was  worthy  of  full  confidence.  She  sent  for  this  woman, 
and  explaining  to  her  that  the  circumstances  of  her  family  re- 
quired that  she  should  undertake  a  journey  which  would  de- 
tain her  for  some  weeks  from  home,  she  gave  her  full  instruc- 
tions concerning  the  management  of  the  domestic  affairs  in  her 
absence.  With  a  precision  which,  upon  reflection,  she  herself 
could  not  help  wondering  at,  she  described  and  (detailed  the 
most  minute  steps  which  were  to  be  taken,  and  especially  such 
as  were  necessary  for  her  father's  comfort.  "  It  was  probable, " 
she  said,  "that  he  would  return  to  St.  Leonard's  to-morrow — 
certain  that  he  would  return  very  soon ;  all  must  be  in  order 
for  him.  He  had  eneugh  to  distress  him,  without  being 
fashed  about  warldly  matters." 

In  the  mean  while  she  toiled  busily,  along  with  May  Hettly, 
to  leave  nothing  unarranged. 

It  was  deep  in  the  night  when  all  these  matters  were  set- 
tled; and  when  they  had  partaken  of  some  food,  the  first 
which  Jeanie  had  tasted  on  that  eventful  day,  May  Hettly, 
whose  usual  residence  was  a  cottage  at  a  little  distance  from 
Deans 's  house,  asked  her  young  mistress  whether  she  would 
not  permit  her  to  remain  in  the  house  all  night.  "  Ye  hae 
had  an  awf u'  day, "  she  said,  "  and  sorrow  and  fear  are  but 
bad  companions  in  the  watches  of  the  night,  as  I  hae  heard 
the  gudeman  say  himsell." 

"They  are  ill  companions  indeed,"  said  Jeanie;  "but  I 
maun  learn  to  abide  their  presence,  and  better  begin  in  the 
house  than  in  the  field." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


297 


She  dismissed  her  aged  assistant  accordingly — for  so  slight 
was  the  gradation  in  their  rank  of  life  that  we  can  hardly  term 
May  a  servant — and  proceeded  to  make  a  few  preparations  for 
her  journey. 

The  simplicity  of  her  education  and  country  made  these 
preparations  very  brief  and  easy.  Her  tartan  screen  served 
all  the  purposes  of  a  riding-habit  and  of  an  umbrella ;  a  small 
bundle  contained  such  changes  of  linen  as  were  absolutely  nec- 
essary. Barefooted,  as  Sancho  says,  she  had  come  into  the 
world,  and  barefooted  she  proposed  to  perform  her  pilgrimage ; 
and  her  clean  shoes  and  change  of  snow-white  thread  stock- 
ings were  to  be  reserved  for  special  occasions  of  ceremony. 
She  was  not  aware  that  the  English  habits  of  comfort  attach 
an  idea  of  abject  misery  to  the  idea  of  a  barefooted  traveller; 
and  if  the  objection  of  cleanliness  had  been  made  to  the  prac- 
tice, she  would  have  been  apt  to  vindicate  herself  upon  the  very 
frequent  ablutions  to  which,  with  Mahometan  scrupulosity,  a 
Scottish  damsel  of  some  condition  usually  subjects  herself. 
Thus  far,  therefore,  all  was  well. 

From  an  oaken  press  or  cabinet,  in  which  her  father  kept  a 
few  old  books,  and  two  or  three  bundles  of  papers,  besides  his 
ordinary  accounts  and  receipts,  she  sought  out  and  extracted 
from  a  parcel  of  notes  of  sermons,  calculations  of  interest,  rec- 
ords of  dying  speeches  of  the  martyrs,  and  the  like,  one  or  two 
documents  which  she  thought  might  be  of  some  use  to  her  upon 
her  mission.  But  the  most  important  difficulty  remained  be- 
hind, and  it  had  not  occurred  to  her  until  that  very  evening. 
It  was  the  want  of  money,  without  which  it  was  impossible 
she  could  undertake  so  distant  a  journey  as  she  now  meditated. 

David  Deans,  as  we  have  said,  was  easy,  and  even  opulent, 
in  his  circumstances.  But  his  wealth,  like  that  of  the  patri- 
archs of  old,  consisted  in  his  kine  and  herds,  and  in  two  or 
three  sums  lent  out  at  interest  to  neighbours  or  relatives,  who, 
far  from  being  in  circumstances  to  pay  anything  to  account  of 
the  principal  sums,  thought  they  did  all  that  was  incumbent 
on  them  when,  with  considerable  difficulty,  they  discharged 
"  the  annual  rent. n  To  these  debtors  it  would  be  in  vain, 
therefore,  to  apply,  even  with  her  father's  concurrence;  nor 


298 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


could  she  hope  to  obtain  such  concurrence,  or  assistance  in 
any  mode,  without  such  a  series  of  explanations  and  debates 
as  she  felt  might  deprive  her  totally  of  the  power  of  taking 
the  step,  which,  however  daring  and  hazardous,  she  knew  was 
absolutely  necessary  for  trying  the  last  chance  in  favour  of 
her  sister.  Without  departing  from  filial  reverence,  Jeanie 
had  an  inward  conviction  that  the  feelings  of  her  father,  how- 
ever just,  and  upright,  and  honourable,  were  too  little  in  uni- 
son with  the  spirit  of  the  time  to  admit  of  his  being  a  good 
judge  of  the  measures  to  be  adopted  in  this  crisis.  Herself 
more  flexible  in  manner,  though  no  less  upright  in  principle, 
she  felt  that  to  ask  his  consent  to  her  pilgrimage  would  be  to 
encounter  the  risk  of  drawing  down  his  positive  prohibition, 
and  under  that  she  believed  her  journey  could  not  be  blessed 
in  its  progress  and  event.  Accordingly,  she  had  determined 
upon  the  means  by  which  she  might  communicate  to  him  her 
undertaking  and  its  purpose  shortly  after  her  actual  departure. 
But  it  was  impossible  to  apply  to  him  for  money  without  alter- 
ing this  arrangement,  and  discussing  fully  the  propriety  of 
her  journey;  pecuniary  assistance  from  that  quarter,  there- 
fore, was  laid  out  of  the  question. 

It  now  occurred  to  Jeanie  that  she  should  have  consulted 
with  Mrs.  Saddletree  on  this  subject.  But,  besides  the  time 
that  must  now  necessarily  be  lost  in  recurring  to  her  assist- 
ance, J eanie  internally  revolted  from  it.  Her  heart  acknowl- 
edged the  goodness  of  Mrs.  Saddetree's  general  character,  and 
the  kind  interest  she  took  in  their  family  misfortunes;  but 
still  she  felt  that  Mrs.  Saddletree  was  a  woman  of  an  ordi- 
nary and  worldly  way  of  thinking,  incapable,  from  habit  and 
temperament,  of  taking  a  keen  or  enthusiastic  view  of  such  a 
resolution  as  she  had  formed ;  and  to  debate  the  point  with  her, 
and  to  rely  upon  her  conviction  of  its  propriety  for  the  means  of 
carrying  it  into  execution,  would  have  been  gall  and  wormwood. 

Butler,  whose  assistance  she  might  have  been  assured  of, 
was  greatly  poorer  than  herself.  In  these  circumstances,  she 
formed  a  singular  resolution  for  the  purpose  of  surmounting 
this  difficulty,  the  execution  of  which  will  form  the  subject  of 
the  next  chapter. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


299 


CHAPTEK  XXVI. 

'Tis  the  voice  of  the  sluggard,  I've  heard  him  complain, 
"  You  have  waked  me  too  soon,  I  must  slumber  again  "  ; 
As  the  door  on  its  hinges,  so  he  on  his  bed, 
Turns  his  sides  and  his  shoulders,  and  his  heavy  head. 

Dr.  Watts. 

The  mansion-house  of  Dumbiedikes,  to  which  we  are  now  to 
introduce  our  readers,  lay  three  or  four  miles — no  matter  for 
the  exact  topography — to  the  southward  of  St.  Leonard's.  It 
had  once  borne  the  appearance  of  some  little  celebrity ;  for  the 
Auld  Laird,  whose  humours  and  pranks  were  often  mentioned 
in  the  alehouses  for  about  a  mile  round  it,  wore  a  sword,  kept 
a  good  horse,  and  a  brace  of  greyhounds ;  brawled,  swore,  and 
betted  at  cock-fights  and  horse-matches ;  followed  Somerville 
of  Drum's  hawks  and  the  Lord  Boss's  hounds;  and  called 
himself  point  devise  a  gentleman.  But  the  line  had  been 
veiled  of  its  splendour  in  the  present  proprietor,  who  cared  for 
no  rustic  amusements,  and  was  as  saving,  timid,  and  retired  as 
his  father  had  been  at  once  grasping  and  selfishly  extrava- 
gant, daring,  wild,  and  intrusive. 

Dumbiedikes  was  what  is  called  in  Scotland  a  "single" 
house ;  that  is,  having  only  one  room  occupying  its  whole  depth 
from  back  to  front,  each  of  which  single  apartments  was  illu- 
minated by  six  or  eight  cross  lights,  whose  diminutive  panes 
and  heavy  frames  permitted  scarce  so  much  light  to  enter  as 
shines  through  one  well-constructed  modern  window.  This 
inartificial  edifice,  exactly  such  as  a  child  would  build  with 
cards,  had  a  steep  roof  flagged  with  coarse  grey  stones  instead  of 
slates ;  a  half- circular  turret,  battlemented,  or,  to  use  the  ap- 
propriate phrase,  bartizan' d  on  the  top,  served  as  a  case  for  a 
narrow  turnpike-stair,  by  which  an  ascent  was  gained  from 
story  to  story ;  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  said  turret  was  a  door 
studded  with  large-headed  nails.  There  was  no  lobby  at  the 
bottom  of  the  tower,  and  scarce  a  landing-place  opposite  to  the 
doors  which  gave  access  to  the  apartments.  One  or  two  low 
and  dilapidated  out-houses,  connected  by  a  courtyard  wall 


300 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


equally  ruinous,  surrounded  the  mansion.  The  court  had 
been  paved,  but  the  flags  being  partly  displaced  and  partly 
renewed,  a  gallant  crop  of  docks  and  thistles  sprung  up  be- 
tween them,  and  the  small  garden,  which  opened  by  a  postern 
through  the  wall,  seemed  not  to  be  in  a  much  more  orderly 
condition.  Over  the  low-arched  gateway  which  led  into  the 
yard,  there  was  a  carved  stone,  exhibiting  some  attempt  at 
armorial  bearings;  and  above  the  inner  entrance  hung,  and 
had  hung  for  many  years,  the  mouldering  hatchment,  which 
announced  that  umquhile  Laurence  Dumbie  of  Dumbiedikes 
had  been  gathered  to  his  fathers  in  Newbattle  kirkyard.  The 
approach  to  this  palace  of  pleasure  was  by  a  road  formed  by 
the  rude  fragments  of  stone  gathered  from  the  fields,  and  it 
was  surrounded  by  ploughed  but  uninclosed  land.  Upon  a 
baulk,  that  is,  an  unploughed  ridge  of  land  interposed  among 
the  corn,  the  Laird's  trusty  palfrey  was  tethered  by  the  head, 
and  picking  a  meal  of  grass.  The  whole  argued  neglect  and 
discomfort,  the  consequence,  however,  of  idleness  and  indiffer- 
ence, not  of  poverty. 

In  this  inner  court,  not  without  a  sense  of  bashfulness  and 
timidity,  stood  Jeanie  Deans,  at  an  early  hour  in  a  fine  spring 
morning.  She  was  no  heroine  of  romance,  and  therefore  looked 
with  some  curiosity  and  interest  on  the  mansion-house  and 
domains  of  which,  it  might  at  that  moment  occur  to  her,  a 
little  encouragement,  such  as  women  of  all  ranks  know  by  in- 
stinct how  to  apply,  might  have  made  her  mistress.  More- 
over, she  was  no  person  of  taste  beyond  her  time,  rank,  and 
country,  and  certainly  thought  the  house  of  Dumbiedikes, 
though  inferior  to  Holyrood  House  or  the  palace  at  Dalkeith, 
was  still  a  stately  structure  in  its  way,  and  the  land  a  "  very 
bonny  bit,  if  it  were  better  seen  to  and  done  to. "  But  Jeanie 
Deans  was  a  plain,  true-hearted,  honest  girl,  who,  while  she 
acknowledged  all  the  splendour  of  her  old  admirer's  habita- 
tion, and  the  value  of  his  property,  never  for  a  moment  har- 
boured a  thought  of  doing  the  Laird,  Butler,  or  herself  the 
injustice  which  many  ladies  of  higher  rank  would  not  have 
hesitated  to  do  to  all  three  on  much  less  temptation. 

Her  present  errand  being  with  the  Laird,  she  looked  round 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


301 


the  offices  to  see  if  she  could  find  any  domestic  to  announce 
that  she  wished  to  see  him.  As  all  was  silence,  she  ventured 
to  open  one  door:  it  was  the  old  Laird's  dog-kennel,  now  de- 
serted, unless  when  occupied,  as  one  or  two  tubs  seemed  to 
testify,  as  a  washing-house.  She  tried  another :  it  was  the 
roofless  shed  where  the  hawks  had  been  once  kept,  as  appeared 
from  a  perch  or  two  not  yet  completely  rotten,  and  a  lure  and 
jesses  which  were  mouldering  on  the  wall.  A  third  door  led 
to  the  coal-house,  which  was  well  stocked.  To  keep  a  very 
good  fire  was  one  of  the  few  points  of  domestic  management 
in  which  Dumbiedikes  was  positively  active ;  in  all  other  mat- 
ters of  domestic  economy  he  was  completely  passive,  and  at 
the  mercy  of  his  housekeeper,  the  same  buxom  dame  whom 
his  father  had  long  since  bequeathed  to  his  charge,  and  who, 
if  fame  did  her  no  injustice,  had  feathered  her  nest  pretty  well 
at  his  expense. 

Jeanie  went  on  opening  doors,  like  the  second  Calendar 
wanting  an  eye,  in  the  castle  of  the  hundred  obliging  damsels, 
until,  like  the  said  prince  errant,  she  came  to  a  stable.  The 
Highland  Pegasus,  Eory  Bean,  to  which  belonged  the  single 
entire  stall,  was  her  old  acquaintance,  whom  she  had  seen 
grazing  on  the  baulk,  as  she  failed  not  to  recognise  by  the 
well-known  ancient  riding  furniture  and  demi-pique  saddle, 
which  half  hung  on  the  walls,  half  trailed  on  the  litter.  Be- 
yond the  "  treviss, "  which  formed  one  side  of  the  stall,  stood 
a  cow,  who  turned  her  head  and  lowed  when  Jeanie  came  into 
the  stable,  an  appeal  which  her  habitual  occupations  enabled 
her  perfectly  to  understand,  and  with  which  she  could  not  re- 
fuse complying,  by  shaking  down  some  fodder  to  the  animal, 
which  had  been  neglected  like  most  things  else  in  this  castle 
of  the  sluggard. 

While  she  was  accommodating  "  the  milky  mother"  with 
the  food  which  she  should  have  received  two  hours  sooner,  a 
slipshod  wench  peeped  into  the  stable,  and  perceiving  that  a 
stranger  was  employed  in  discharging  the  task  which  she  at 
length,  and  reluctantly,  had  quitted  her  slumbers  to  perform, 
ejaculated,  "Eh,  sirs!  the  brownie!  the  brownie!"  and  fled, 
yelling  as  if  she  had  seen  the  devil. 


302 


WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS. 


To  explain  her  terror,  it  may  be  necessary  to  notice  that  the 
old  house  of  Dumbiedikes  had,  according  to  report,  been  long 
haunted  by  a  brownie,  one  of  those  familiar  spirits  who  were 
believed  in  ancient  times  to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  the  ordi- 
nary labourer : 

Whirl  the  long  mop  and  ply  the  airy  flail. 

Certes,  the  convenience  of  such  a  supernatural  assistant  could 
have  been  nowhere  more  sensibly  felt  than  in  a  family  where 
the  domestics  were  so  little  disposed  to  personal  activity; 
yet  this  serving  maiden  was  so  far  from  rejoicing  in  see- 
ing a  supposed  aerial  substitute  discharge  a  task  which  she 
should  long  since  have  performed  herself,  that  she  proceeded 
to  raise  the  family  by  her  screams  of  horror,  uttered  as  thick 
as  if  the  brownie  had  been  flaying  her.  Jeanie,  who  had  im- 
mediately resigned  her  temporary  occupation  and  followed  the 
yelling  damsel  into  the  courtyard,  in  order  to  undeceive  and 
appease  her,  was  there  met  by  Mrs.  Janet  Balchristie,  the 
favourite  sultana  of  the  last  Laird,  as  scandal  went — the 
housekeeper  of  the  present.  The  good-looking  buxom  woman, 
betwixt  forty  and  fifty  (for  such  we  described  her  at  the  death 
of  the  last  Laird),  was  now  a  fat,  red-faced,  old  dame  of  sev- 
enty, or  thereabouts,  fond  of  her  place,  and  jealous  of  her  au- 
thority. Conscious  that  her  administration  did  not  rest  on  so 
sure  a  basis  as  in  the  time  of  the  old  proprietor,  this  consider- 
ate lady  had  introduced  into  the  family  the  screamer  afore- 
said, who  added  good  features  and  bright  eyes  to  the  powers 
of  her  lungs.  She  made  no  conquest  of  the  Laird,  however, 
who  seemed  to  live  as  if  there  was  not  another  woman  in  the 
world  but  Jeanie  Deans,  and  to  bear  no  very  ardent  or  over- 
bearing affection  even  to  her.  Mrs.  Janet  Balchristie,  not- 
withstanding, had  her  own  uneasy  thoughts  upon  the  almost 
daily  visits  to  St.  Leonard's  Crags,  and  often,  when  the  Laird 
looked  at  her  wistfully  and  paused,  according  to  his  custom 
before  utterance,  she  expected  him  to  say,  "  Jenny,  I  am  gaun 
to  change  my  condition" ;  but  she  was  relieved  by  "  Jenny,  I 
am  gaun  to  change  my  shoon." 

Still,  however,  Mrs.  Balchristie  regarded  Jeanie  Deans  with 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  303 


no  small  portion  of  malevolence,  the  customary  feeling  of  such 
persons  towards  any  one  who  they  think  has  the  means  of 
doing  them  an  injury.  But  she  had  also  a  general  aversion 
to  any  female,  tolerably  young  and  decently  well-looking,  who 
showed  a  wish  to  approach  the  house  of  Dumbiedikes  and  the 
proprietor  thereof.  And  as  she  had  raised  her  mass  of  mor- 
tality out  of  bed  two  hours  earlier  than  usual,  to  come  to  the 
rescue  of  her  clamorous  niece,  she  was  in  such  extreme  bad 
humour  against  all  and  sundry,  that  Saddletree  would  have 
pronounced  that  she  harboured  inimicitiam  contra  omnes  mor- 
tales. 

"Wha  the  deil  are  ye?"  said  the  fat  dame  to  poor  Jeanie, 
whom  she  did  not  immediately  recognise,  "  scouping  about  a 
decent  house  at  sic  an  hour  in  the  morning?" 

"It  was  ane  wanting  to  speak  to  the  Laird,"  said  Jeanie, 
who  felt  something  of  the  intuitive  terror  which  she  had  for- 
merly entertained  for  this  termagant,  when  she  was  occasion- 
ally at  Dumbiedikes  on  business  of  her  father's. 

"Ane!  And  what  sort  of  ane  are  ye?  hae  ye  nae  name? 
D'ye  think  his  honour  has  naething  else  to  do  than  to  speak 
wi'  ilka  idle  tramper  that  comes  about  the  town,  and  him  in 
his  bed  yet,  honest  man?" 

"Dear,  Mrs.  Balchristie, "  replied  Jeanie,  in  a  submissive 
tone,  "d'ye  no  mind  me?— d'ye  no  mind  Jeanie  Deans?" 

"Jeanie  Deans!!"  said  the  termagant,  in  accents  affecting 
the  utmost  astonishment;  then,  taking  two  strides  nearer  to 
her,  she  peered  into  her  face  with  a  stare  of  curiosity,  equal- 
ly scornful  and  malignant.  "  I  say  Jeanie  Deans,  indeed— 
Jeanie  Deevil,  they  had  better  hae  ca'd  ye!  A  bonny  spot  o' 
wark  your  tittie  and  you  hae  made  out,  murdering  ae  puir 
wean,  and  your  light  limmer  of  a  sister's  to  be  hanged  for't, 
as  weel  she  deserves!  And  the  like  o'  you  to  come  to  ony 
honest  man's  house,  and  want  to  be  into  a  decent  bachelor 
gentleman's  room  at  this  time  in  the  morning,  and  him  in  his 
bed?    Gae  wa'— gae  wa' !" 

Jeanie  was  struck  mute  with  shame  at  the  unfeeling  bru- 
tality of  this  accusation,  and  could  not  even  find  words  tc 
justify  herself  from  the  vile  construction  put  upon  her  visit, 


304 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


when  Mrs.  Balchristie,  seeing  her  advantage,  continned  in  the 
same  tone :  "  Come,  come,  bundle  up  your  pipes  and  tramp 
awa'  wi'  ye !  ye  may  be  seeking  a  father  to  another  wean  for 
ony  thing  I  ken.  If  it  warna  that  your  father,  auld  David 
Deans,  had  been  a  tenant  on  our  land,  I  would  cry  up  the 
men-folk,  and  hae  ye  dookit  in  the  burn  for  your  impudence." 

Jeanie  had  already  turned  her  back  and  was  walking  tow- 
ards the  door  of  the  courtyard,  so  that  Mrs  Balchristie,  to 
make  her  last  threat  impressively  audible  to  her,  had  raised 
her  stentorian  voice  to  its  utmost  pitch.  But,  like  many  a 
general,  she  lost  the  engagement  by  pressing  her  advantage 
too  far. 

The  Laird  had  been  disturbed  in  his  morning  slumbers  by 
the  tones  of  Mrs.  Balchristie's  objurgation,  sounds  in  them- 
selves by  no  means  uncommon,  but  very  remarkable  in  respect 
to  the  early  hour  at  which  they  were  now  heard.  He  turned 
himself  on  the  other  side,  however,  in  hopes  the  squall  would 
blow  by,  when,  in  the  course  of  Mrs.  Balchristie's  second  ex- 
plosion of  wrath,  the  name  of  Deans  distinctly  struck  the  tym- 
panum of  his  ear.  As  he  was,  in  some  degree,  aware  of  the 
small  portion  of  benevolence  with  which  his  housekeeper  re- 
garded the  family  at  St.  Leonard's,  he  instantly  conceived  that 
some  message  from  thence  was  the  cause  of  this  untimely  ire, 
and  getting  out  of  his  bed,  he  slipt  as  speedily  as  possible  into 
an  old  brocaded  nightgown  and  some  other  necessary  integu- 
ments, clapped  on  his  head  his  father's  gold-laced  hat  (for 
though  he  was  seldom  seen  without  it,  yet  it  is  proper  to  con- 
tradict the  popular  report  that  he  slept  in  it,  as  Don  Quixote 
did  in  his  helmet),  and  opening  the  window  of  his  bedroom, 
beheld,  to  his  great  astonishment,  the  well-known  figure  of 
Jeanie  Deans  herself  retreating  from  his  gate;  while  his 
housekeeper,  with  arms  akimbo,  fists  clenched  and  extended, 
body  erect,  and  head  shaking  with  rage,  sent  after  her  a  vol- 
ley of  Billingsgate  oaths.  His  choler  rose  in  proportion  to 
the  surprise,  and,  perhaps,  to  the  disturbance  of  his  repose. 
"  Hark  ye, "  he  exclaimed  from  the  window,  "  ye  auld  limb  of 
Satan !  wha  the  deil  gies  you  commission  to  guide  an  honest 
man's  daughter  that  gate?" 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


305 


Mrs.  Balchristie  was  completely  caught  in  the  manner.  She 
was  aware,  from  the  unusual  warmth  with  which  the  Laird  ex- 
pressed himself,  that  he  was  quite  serious  in  this  matter,  and 
she  knew  that,  with  all  his  indolence  of  nature,  there  were 
points  on  which  he  might  be  provoked,  and  that,  being  pro- 
voked, he  had  in  him  something  dangerous,  which  her  wisdom 
taught  her  to  fear  accordingly.  She  began,  therefore,  to  re- 
tract her  false  step  as  fast  as  she  could.  "  She  was  but  speak- 
ing for  the  house's  credit,  and  she  couldna  think  of  disturbing 
his  honour  in  the  morning  sae  early,  when  the  young  woman 
might  as  weel  wait  or  call  again ;  and,  to  be  sure,  she  might 
make  a  mistake  between  the  twa  sisters,  for  ane  o'  them  was- 
na  sae  creditable  an  acquaintance." 

"Haud  your  peace,  ye  auld  jade,"  said  Dumbiedikes;  "the 
warst  quean  e'er  stude  in  their  shoon  may  ca'  you  cousin,  an 
a'  be  true  that  I  have  heard.  Jeanie,  my  woman,  gang  into 
the  parlour — but  stay,  that  winna  be  redd  up  yet ;  wait  there 
a  minute  till  I  come  doun  to  let  ye  in.  Dinna  mind  what 
Jenny  says  to  ye." 

"Na,  na,"  said  Jenny,  with  a  laugh  of  affected  heartiness, 
•  liever  mind  me,  lass.  A'  the  warld  kens  my  bark's  waur 
than  my  bite;  if  ye  had  had  an  appointment  wi'  the  Laird,' 
ye  might  hae  tauld  me,  I  am  nae  uncivil  person.  Gang  your 
ways  in  bye,  hinny."  And  she  opened  the  door  of  the  house 
with  a  master-key. 

"But  I  had  no  appointment  wi'  the  Laird,"  said  Jeanie, 
drawing  back;  "I  want  just  to  speak  twa  words  to  him,  and 
I  wad  rather  do  it  standing  here,  Mrs.  Balchristie." 

"In  the  open  courtyard?  Na,  na,  that  wad  never  do,  lass; 
we  maunna  guide  ye  that  gate  neither.  And  how's  that  douce 
honest  man,  your  father?" 

Jeanie  was  saved  the  pain  of  answering  this  hypocritical 
question  by  the  appearance  of  the  Laird  himself. 

"Gang  in  and  get  breakfast  ready,"  said  he  to  his  house- 
keeper; "and,  d'ye  hear,  breakfast  wi'  us  yoursell;  ye  ken 
how  to  manage  thae  porringers  of  tea- water;  and,  hear  ye,  see 
abuue  a'  that  there's  a  gude  fire.  Weel,  Jeanie,  my  woman, 
gang  in  bye— gang  in  bye,  and  rest  ye," 


306 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"Na,  Laird,"  Jeanie  replied,  endeavouring  as  much  as  she 
could  to  express  herself  with  composure,  notwithstanding  she 
still  trembled,  "I  canna  gang  in:  I  have  a  lang  day's  darg 
afore  me ;  I  maun  be  twenty  mile  o'  gate  the  night  yet,  if  feet 
will  carry  me." 

"  Guide  and  deliver  us !  twenty  mile — twenty  mile  on  your 
feet!"  ejaculated  Dumbiedikes,  whose  walks  were  of  a  very 
circumscribed  diameter.  "Ye  maun  never  think  o'  that; 
come  in  bye." 

"  I  canna  do  that,  Laird, "  replied  Jeanie.  "  The  twa  words 
I  hae  to  say  to  ye  I  can  say  here;  forbye  that  Mrs.  Bal- 
christie  " 

"  The  deil  flee  awa'  wi'  Mrs.  Balchristie, "  said  Dumbie- 
dikes, "  and  he'll  hae  a  heavy  lading  o'  her!  I  tell  ye,  Jeanie 
Deans,  I  am  a  man  of  few  words,  but  I  am  laird  at  hame 
as  weel  as  in  the  field :  deil  a  brute  or  body  about  my  house 
but  I  can  manage  when  I  like,  except  Rory  Bean,  my  powny; 
but  I  can  seldom  be  at  the  plague,  an  it  binna  when  my 
bluid's  up." 

"  I  was  wanting  to  say  to  ye,  Laird, "  said  Jeanie,  who  felt 
the  necessity  of  entering  upon  her  business,  "  that  I  was  gaun 
a  lang  journey,  outbye  of  my  father's  knowledge." 

"Outbye  his  knowledge,  Jeanie!  Is  that  right?  Ye  maun 
think  o't  again;  it's  no  right,"  said  Dumbiedikes,  with  a  coun- 
tenance of  great  concern. 

"  If  I  were  anes  at  Lunnon, "  said  Jeanie,  in  exculpation, 
"  I  am  amaist  sure  I  could  get  means  to  speak  to  the  queen 
about  my  sister's  life." 

"Lunnon,  and  the  queen,  and  her  sister's  life!"  said  Dum- 
biedikes, whistling  for  very  amazement;  "the  lassie's  de- 
mented. " 

"I  am  no  out  o'  my  mind,"  said  she,  "and,  sink  or  swim, 
I  am  determined  to  gang  to  Lunnon,  if  I  suld  beg  my  way  f  rae 
door  to  door ;  and  so  I  maun,  unless  ye  wad  lend  me  a  small 
sum  to  pay  my  expenses.  Little  thing  will  do  it;  and  ye  ken 
my  father's  a  man  of  substance,  and  wad  see  nae  man,  far  less 
you,  Laird,  come  to  loss  by  me." 

Dumbiedikes,  on  comprehending  the  nature  of  this  applica- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


307 


tion,  could  scarce  trust  his  ears;  he  made  no  answer  what- 
ever, but  stood  with  his  eyes  riveted  on  the  ground. 

"  I  see  ye  are  no  for  assisting  me,  Laird, n  said  Jeanie ;  "  sae 
fare  ye  weel ;  and  gang  and  see  my  poor  father  as  aften  as  ye 
can,  he  will  be  lonely  eneugh  now." 

"  Where  is  the  silly  bairn  gaun?"  said  Dumbiedikes;  and, 
laying  hold  of  her  hand,  he  led  her  into  the  house.  "It's  no 
that  I  didna  think  o't  before,"  he  said,  "but  it  stack  in  my 
throat." 

Thus  speaking  to  himself,  he  led  her  into  an  old-fashioned 
parlour,  shut  the  door  behind  them,  and  fastened  it  with  a  bolt. 
While  Jeanie,  surprised  at  this  manoeuvre,  remained  as  near 
the  door  as  possible,  the  Laird  quitted  her  hand,  and  pressed 
upon  a  spring  lock  fixed  in  an  oak  panel  in  the  wainscot,  which 
instantly  slipped  aside.  An  iron  strong-box  was  discovered 
in  a  recess  of  the  wall ;  he  opened  this  also,  and,  pulling  out 
two  or  three  drawers,  showed  that  they  were  filled  with  leath- 
ern bags,  full  of  gold  and  silver  coin. 

"This  is  my  bank,  Jeanie,  lass,"  he  said,  looking  first  at 
her  and  then  at  the  treasure,  with  an  air  of  complacency; 
"nane  o'  your  goldsmith's  bills  for  me;  they  bring  folk  to 
ruin. " 

Then  suddenly  changing  his  tone,  he  resolutely  said: 
"  Jeanie,  I  will  make  ye  Leddy  Dumbiedikes  afore  the  sun 
sets,  and  ye  may  ride  to  Lunnon  in  your  ain  coach,  if  ye  like." 

"Na,  Laird,"  said  Jeanie,  "that  can  never  be:  my  father's 
grief,  my  sister's  situation,  the  discredit  to  you  " 

"That's  my  business,"  said  Dumbiedikes.  "Ye  wad  say 
naething  about  that  if  ye  werena  a  f ule ;  and  yet  I  like  ye 
the  better  for't:  ae  wise  body's  eneugh  in  the  married  state. 
But  if  your  heart's  ower  fu',  take  what  siller  will  serve  ye,  and 
let  it  be  when  ye  come  back  again,  as  gude  syne  as  sune." 

"But,  Laird,"  said  Jeanie,  who  felt  the  necessity  of  being 
explicit  with  so  extraordinary  a  lover,  "  I  like  another  man 
better  than  you,  and  I  canna  marry  ye." 

"Another  man  better  than  me,  Jeanie!"  said  Dumbiedikes; 
"how  is  that  possible?  It's  no  possible,  woman;  ye  hae 
kenn'd  me  sae  lang." 


308 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Ay,  but,  Laird, "  said  Jeanie,  with  persevering  simplic- 
ity, "I  hae  kenn'd  him  langer." 

"Langer!  It's  no  possible!"  exclaimed  the  poor  Laird. 
"  It  canna  be ;  ye  were  born  on  the  land.  0  Jeanie,  woman, 
ye  haena  lookit — ye  haena  seen  the  half  o'  the  gear."  He 
drew  out  another  drawer.  "A'  gowd,  Jeanie,  and  there's 
bands  for  siller  lent.  And  the  rental  book,  Jeanie — clear 
three  hunder  sterling ;  deil  a  wadset,  heritable  band,  or  bur- 
den. Ye  haena  lookit  at  them,  woman.  And  then  my 
mother's  wardrobe,  and  my  grandmother's  forbye — silk  gowns 
wad  stand  on  their  ends,  pearlin-lace  as  fine  as  spiders'  webs, 
and  rings  and  ear-rings  to  the  boot  of  a'  that ;  they  are  a'  in 
the  chamber  of  deas.  Oh,  Jeanie,  gang  up  the  stair  and  look 
at  them!" 

But  Jeanie  held  fast  her  integrity,  though  beset  with  temp- 
tations which  perhaps  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes  did  not  greatly 
err  in  supposing  were  those  most  affecting  to  her  sex. 

"  It  canna  be,  Laird :  I  have  said  it,  and  I  canna  break  my 
word  till  him,  if  ye  wad  gie  me  the  haill  barony  of  Dalkeith, 
and  Lugton  into  the  bargain." 

"  Your  word  to  him, "  said  the  Laird,  somewhat  pettishly ; 
"  but  wha  is  he,  Jeanie?  wha  is  he?  I  haena  heard  his  name 
yet.  Come  now,  Jeanie,  ye  are  but  queering  us.  I  am  no 
trowing  that  there  is  sic  a  ane  in  the  warld;  ye  are  but  mak- 
ing fashion.     What  is  he,  wha  is  he?" 

"  Just  Reuben  Butler,  that's  schulemaster  at  Liberton,"  said 
Jeanie. 

"Reuben  Butler!  Reuben  Butler!"  echoed  the  Laird  of 
Dumbiedikes,  pacing  the  apartment  in  high  disdain.  "  Reu- 
ben Butler,  the  dominie  at  Liberton,  and  a  dominie  depute 
too !  Reuben,  the  son  of  my  cottar !  Very  weel,  Jeanie,  lass, 
wilfu'  woman  will  hae  her  way.  Reuben  Butler !  he  hasna 
in  his  pouch  the  value  o'  the  auld  black  coat  he  wears, — but 
it  disna  signify."  And,  as  he  spoke,  he  shut  successively, 
and  with  vehemence,  the  drawers  of  his  treasury.  "  A  fair 
offer,  Jeanie,  is  nae  cause  of  feud.  Ae  man  may  bring  a 
horse  to  the  water,  but  twenty  wunna  gar  him  drink.  And 
as  for  wasting  my  substance  on  other  folks'  joes  " 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


309 


There  was  something  in  the  last  hint  that  nettled  Jeanie' s 
honest  pride.  "  I  was  begging  nane  frae  your  honour, "  she 
said;  " least  of  a'  on  sic  a  score  as  ye  pit  it  on.  Gude  morn- 
ing to  ye,  sir ;  ye  hae  been  kind  to  my  father,  and  it  isna  in 
my  heart  to  think  otherwise  than  kindly  of  you." 

So  saying,  she  left  the  room,  without  listening  to  a  faint 
"But  Jeanie — Jeanie — stay,  woman!"  and  traversing  the 
courtyard  with  a  quick  step,  she  set  out  on  her  forward  journey, 
her  bosom  glowing  with  that  natural  indignation  and  shame 
which  an  honest  mind  feels  at  having  subjected  itself  to  ask 
a  favour  which  had  been  unexpectedly  refused.  When  out  of 
the  Laird's  ground,  and  once  more  upon  the  public  road,  her 
pace  slackened,  her  anger  cooled,  and  anxious  anticipations  of 
the  consequence  of  this  unexpected  disappointment  began  to 
influence  her  with  other  feelings.  Must  she  then  actually  beg 
her  way  to  London?  for  such  seemed  the  alternative;  or  must 
she  turn  back  and  solicit  her  f 3  oher  for  money ;  and  by  doing  so 
lose  time,  which  was  precious,  besides  the  risk  of  encountering 
his  positive  prohibition  respecting  her  j  ourney  ?  Yet  she  saw  no 
medium  between  these  alternatives;  and,  while  she  walked  slow- 
ly on,  was  still  meditating  whether  it  were  not  better  to  return. 

While  she  was  thus  in  an  uncertainty,  she  heard  the  clatter 
of  a  horse's  hoofs,  and  a  well-known  voice  calling  her  name. 
She  looked  round,  and  saw  advancing  towards  her  on  a  pony, 
whose  bare  back  and  halter  assorted  ill  with  the  nightgown, 
slippers,  and  laced  cOcked-hat  of  the  rider,  a  cavalier  of  no 
less  importance  than  Dumbiedikes  himself.  In  the  energy  of 
his  pursuit,  he  had  overcome  even  the  Highland  obstinacy 
of  Eory  Bean,  and  compelled  that  self-willed  palfrey  to  canter 
the  way  his  rider  chose;  which  Rory,  however,  performed 
with  all  the  symptoms  of  reluctance,  turning  his  head,  and 
accompanying  every  bound  he  made  in  advance  with  a  side- 
long motion,  which  indicated  his  extreme  wish  to  turn  round 
— a  manoeuvre  which  nothing  but  the  constant  exercise  of  the 
Laird's  heels  and  cudgel  could  possibly  have  counteracted. 

When  the  Laird  came  up  with  Jeanie,  the  first  words  he 
uttered  were:  "Jeanie,  they  say  ane  shouldna  aye  take  a 
woman  at  her  first  word?" 


310 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Ay,  but  ye  maun  take  me  at  mine,  Laird, "  said  Jeanie, 
looking  on  the  ground,  and  walking  on  without  a  pause.  "  I 
hae  but  ae  word  to  bestow  on  ony  body,  and  that's  aye  a 
true  ane." 

"Then,"  said  Dumbiedikes,  " at  least  ye  suldna  aye  take  a 
man  at  his  first  word.  Ye  maunna  gang  this  wilfu'  gate  siller- 
less,  come  o't  what  like."  He  put  a  purse  into  her  hand.  "  I 
wad  gie  you  Eory  too,  but  he's  as  wilfu'  as  yoursell,  and  he's 
owre  weel  used  to  a  gate  that  maybe  he  and  I  hae  gaen  ower 
aften,  and  he'll  gang  nae  road  else." 

"But,  Laird,"  said  Jeanie,  "though  I  ken  my  father  will 
satisfy  every  penny  of  this  siller,  whatever  there's  o't,  yet 
I  wadna  like  to  borrow  it  frae  ane  that  maybe  thinks  of  some- 
thing mair  than  the  paying  o't  back  again." 

"There's  just  twenty-five  guineas  o't,"  said  Dumbiedikes, 
with  a  gentle  sigh,  "  and  whether  your  father  pays  or  disna 
pay,  I  make  ye  free  till't  without  another  word.  Gang  where 
ye  like,  do  what  ye  like,  and  marry  a'  the  Butlers  in  the  coun- 
try gin  ye  like.    And  sae,  gude  morning  to  you,  Jeanie." 

"And  God  bless  you,  Laird,  wi'  mony  a  gude  morning," 
said  Jeanie,  her  heart  more  softened  by  the  unwonted  gener- 
osity of  this  uncouth  character  than  perhaps  Butler  might 
have  approved,  had  he  known  her  feelings  at  that  moment; 
"and  comfort,  and  the  Lord's  peace,  and  the  peace  of  the 
world,  be  with  you,  if  we  suld  never  meet  again!" 

Dumbiedikes  turned  and  waved  his  hand ;  and  his  pony, 
much  more  willing  to  return  than  he  had  been  to  set  out,  hur- 
ried him  homewards  so  fast  that,  ^wanting  the  aid  of  a  regular 
bridle,  as  well  as  of  saddle  and  stirrups,  he  was  too  much  puz- 
zled to  keep  his  seat  to  permit  of  his  looking  behind  even  to 
give  the  parting  glance  of  a  forlorn  swain.  I  am  ashamed  to 
say  that  the  sight  of  a  lover,  run  away  with  in  nightgown  and 
slippers  and  a  laced  hat,  by  a  bare-backed  Highland  pony,  had 
something  in  it  of  a  sedative,  even  to  a  grateful  and  deserved 
burst  of  affectionate  esteem.  The  figure  of  Dumbiedikes  was 
too  ludicrous  not  to  confirm  Jeanie  in  the  original  sentiments 
she  entertained  towards  him. 

"He's  a  gude  creature,"  said  she,  "and  a  kind;  it's  a  pity 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


311 


he  has  sae  willyard  a  powny."  And  she  immediately  turned 
her  thoughts  to  the  important  journey  which  she  had  com- 
menced, reflecting  with  pleasure  that,  according  to  her  habits 
of  life  and  of  undergoing  fatigue,  she  was  now  amply,  or  even 
superfluously,  provided  with  the  means  of  encountering  the 
expenses  of  the  road  up  and  down  from  London,  and  all  other 
expenses  whatever. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


What  strange  and  wayward  thoughts  will  slide 

Into  a  lover's  head  ; 
"  O  mercy  !  "  to  myself  I  cried, 

"  If  Lucy  should  be  dead  !  " 

Wordsworth. 

In  pursuing  her  solitary  journey,  our  heroine,  soon  after 
passing  the  house  of  Dumbiedikes,  gained  a  little  eminence, 
from  which,  on  looking  to  the  eastward  down  a  prattling 
brook  whose  meanders  were  shaded  with  straggling  willows 
and  alder-trees,  she  could  see  the  cottages  of  Woodend  and 
Beersheba,  the  haunts  and  habitation  of  her  early  life,  and 
could  distinguish  the  common  on  which  she  had  so  often 
headed  sheep,  and  the  recesses  of  the  rivulet  which  she  had 
pulled  rushes  with  Butler,  to  plait  crowns  and  sceptres  for  her 
sister  Effie,  then  a  beautiful  but  spoiled  child  of  about  three 
years  old.  The  recollections  which  the  scene  brought  with 
them  were  so  bitter  that,  had  she  indulged  them,  she  would 
have  sate  down  and  relieved  her  heart  with  tears. 

"But  I  kenn'd,"  said  Jeanie,  when  she  gave  an  account  of 
her  pilgrimage,  "  that  greeting  would  do  but  little  good,  and 
that  it  was  mair  beseeming  to  thank  the  Lord,  that  had  showed 
me  kindness  and  countenance  by  means  of  a  man  that  mony 
ca'd  a  Nabal  and  churl,  but  wha  was  free  of  his  gudes  to  me 
as  ever  the  fountain  was  free  of  the  stream.  And  I  minded 
the  Scripture  about  the  sin  of  Israel  at  Meribah,  when  the 
people  murmured,  although  Moses  had  brought  water  from 
the  dry  rock  that  the  congregation  might  drink  and  live. 


312 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Sae,  I  wad  not  trust  my  sell  with  another  look  at  puir  Wood- 
end,  for  the  very  blue  reek  that  came  out  of  the  lum-head  pat 
me  in  mind  of  the  change  of  market-days  with  us," 

In  this  resigned  and  Christian  temper  she  pursued  her  jour- 
ney, until  she  was  beyond  this  place  of  melancholy  recollec- 
tions, and  not  distant  from  the  village  where  Butler  dwelt, 
which,  with  its  old-fashioned  church  and  steeple,  rises  among 
a  tuft  of  trees,  occupying  the  ridge  of  an  eminence  to  the 
south  of  Edinburgh.  At  a  quarter  of  a  mile's  distance  is  a 
clumsy  square  tower,  the  residence  of  the  Laird  of  Liberton, 
who,  in  former  times,  with  the  habits  of  the  predatory  chiv- 
alry of  Germany,  is  said  frequently  to  have  annoyed  the  city 
of  Edinburgh  by  intercepting  the  supplies  and  merchandise 
which  came  to  the  town  from  the  southward. 

This  village,  its  tower,  and  its  church,  did  not  lie  precisely 
in  Jeanie's  road  towards  England;  but  they  were  not  much 
aside  from  it,  and  the  village  was  the  abode  of  Butler.  She 
had  resolved  to  see  him  in  the  beginning  of  her  journey,  be- 
cause she  conceived  him  the  most  proper  person  to  write  to  her 
father  concerning  her  resolution  and  her  hopes.  There  was 
probably  another  reason  latent  in  her  affectionate  bosom.  She 
wished  once  more  to  see  the  object  of  so  early  and  so  sincere 
an  attachment,  before  commencing  a  pilgrimage,  the  perils 
of  which  she  did  not  disguise  from  herself,  although  she  did 
not  allow  them  so  to  press  upon  her  mind  as  to  diminish  the 
strength  and  energy  of  her  resolution.  A  visit  to  a  lover 
from  a  young  person  in  a  higher  rank  of  life  than  Jeanie's 
would  have  had  something  forward  and  improper  in  its  char- 
acter. But  the  simplicity  of  her  rural  habits  was  unacquaint- 
ed with  these  punctilious  ideas  of  decorum,  and  no  notion, 
therefore,  of  impropriety  crossed  her  imagination  as,  setting 
out  upon  a  long  journey,  she  went  to  bid  adieu  to  an  early 
friend. 

There  was  still  another  motive  that  pressed  upon  her  mind 
with  additional  force  as  she  approached  the  village.  She  had 
looked  anxiously  for  Butler  in  the  court-house,  and  had  ex- 
pected that  certainly,  in  some  part  of  that  eventful  day,  he 
would  have  appeared  to  bring  such  countenance  and  support 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


313 


as  he  could  give  to  his  old  friend  and  the  protector  of  his 
youth,  even  if  her  own  claims  were  laid  aside.  She  knew, 
indeed,  that  he  was  under  a  certain  degree  of  restraint ;  but 
she  still  had  hoped  that  he  would  have  found  means  to  eman- 
cipate himself  from  it,  at  least  for  one  day.  In  short,  the 
wild  and  wayward  thoughts  which  Wordsworth  has  described 
as  rising  in  an  absent  lover's  imagination  suggested,  as  the 
only  explanation  of  his  absence,  that  Butler  must  be  very  ill. 
And  so  much  had  this  wrought  on  her  imagination,  that  when 
she  approached  the  cottage  in  which  her  lover  occupied  a 
small  apartment,  and  which  had  been  pointed  out  to  her  by 
a  maiden  with  a  milk-pail  on  her  head,  she  trembled  at  antic- 
ipating the  answer  she  might  receive  on  inquiring  for  him. 

Her  fears  in  this  case  had,  indeed,  only  hit  upon  the  truth. 
Butler,  whose  constitution  was  naturally  feeble,  did  not  soon 
recover  the  fatigue  of  body  and  distress  of  mind  which  he  had 
suffered  in  consequence  of  the  tragical  events  with  which  our 
narrative  commenced.  The  painful  idea  that  his  character 
was  breathed  on  by  suspicion  was  an  aggravation  to  his  dis- 
tress. 

But  the  most  cruel  addition  was  the  absolute  prohibition 
laid  by  the  magistrates  on  his  holding  any  communication 
with  Deans  or  his  family.  It  had  unfortunately  appeared 
likely  to  them  that  some  intercourse  might  be  again  attempted 
with  that  family  by  Robertson,  through  the  medium  of  But- 
ler, and  this  they  were  anxious  to  intercept,  or  prevent,  if 
possible.  The  measure  was  not  meant  as  a  harsh  or  injurious 
severity  on  the  part  of  the  magistrates;  but,  in  Butler's  cir- 
cumstances, it  pressed  cruelly  hard.  He  felt  he  must  be  suf- 
fering under  the  bad  opinion  of  the  person  who  was  dearest 
to  him,  from  an  imputation  of  unkind  desertion,  the  most 
alien  to  his  nature. 

This  painful  thought,  pressing  on  a  frame  already  injured, 
brought  on  a  succession  of  slow  and  lingering  feverish  attacks, 
which  greatly  impaired  his  health,  and  at  length  rendered  him 
incapable  even  of  the  sedentary  duties  of  the  school,  on  which 
his  bread  depended.  Fortunately,  old  Mr.  Whackbairn,  who 
was  the  principal  teacher  of  the  little  parochial  establishment, 


314 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


was  sincerely  attached  to  Butler.  Besides  that  he  was  sen- 
sible of  his  merits  and  value  as  an  assistant,  which  had 
greatly  raised  the  credit  of  his  little  school,  the  ancient  peda- 
gogue, who  had  himself  been  tolerably  educated,  retained  some 
taste  for  classical  lore,  and  would  gladly  relax,  after  the  drudg- 
ery of  the  school  was  past,  by  conning  over  a  few  pages  of 
Horace  or  Juvenal  with  his  usher.  A  similarity  of  taste  begot 
kindness,  and  he  accordingly  saw  Butler's  increasing  debility 
with  great  compassion,  roused  up  his  own  energies  to  teaching 
the  school  in  the  morning  hours,  insisted  upon  his  assistant's 
reposing  himself  at  that  period,  and,  besides,  supplied  him 
with  such  comforts  as  the  patient's  situation  required,  and  his 
own  means  were  inadequate  to  compass. 

Such  was  Butler's  situation,  scarce  able  to  drag  himself  to 
the  place  where  his  daily  drudgery  must  gain  his  daily  bread, 
and  racked  with  a  thousand  fearful  anticipations  concerning 
the  fate  of  those  who  were  dearest  to  him  in  the  world,  when 
the  trial  and  condemnation  of  Effie  Deans  put  the  copestone 
upon  his  mental  misery. 

He  had  a  particular  account  of  these  events  from  a  fellow- 
student  wrho  resided  in  the  same  village,  and  who,  having  been 
present  on  the  melancholy  occasion,  was  able  to  place  it  in  all 
its  agony  of  horrors  before  his  excruciated  imagination.  That 
sleep  should  have  visited  his  eyes,  after  such  a  curfew-note, 
was  impossible.  A  thousand  dreadful  visions  haunted  his 
imagination  all  night,  and  in  the  morning  he  was  awaked 
from  a  feverish  slumber  by  the  only  circumstance  which  could 
have  added  to  his  distress — the  visit  of  an  intrusive  ass. 

This  unwelcome  visitant  was  no  other  than  Bartoline  Sad- 
dletree. The  worthy  and  sapient  burgher  had  kept  his  ap- 
pointment at  MacCroskie's,  with  Plumdamas  and  some  other 
neighbours,  to  discuss  the  duke  of  Argyle's  speech,  the  justice 
of  Effie  Deans' s  condemnation,  and  the  improbability  of  her 
obtaining  a  reprieve.  This  sage  conclave  disputed  high  and 
drank  deep,  and  on  the  next  morning  Bartoline  felt,  as  he 
expressed  it,  as  if  his  head  was  like  a  "  confused  progress 
of  writs." 

To  bring  his  reflective  powers  to  their  usual  serenity,  Sad- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


315 


dletree  resolved  to  take  a  morning's  ride  upon  a  certain  hack- 
ney which  he,  Plumdamas,  and  another  honest  shopkeeper 
combined  to  maintain  by  joint  subscription,  for  occasional 
jaunts  for  the  purpose  of  business  or  exercise.  As  Saddle- 
tree had  two  children  boarded  with  Whackbairn,  and  was,  as 
we  have  seen,  rather  fond  of  Butler's  society,  he  turned  his 
palfrey's  head  towards  Liberton,  and  came,  as  we  have  al- 
ready said,  to  give  the  unfortunate  usher  that  additional  vexa- 
tion of  which  Imogen  complains  so  feelingly  when  she  says : 

I'm  sprighted  with  a  fool — 
Sprighted  and  anger' d  worse. 

If  anything  could  have  added  gall  to  bitterness,  it  was  the 
choice  which  Saddletree  made  of  a  subject  for  his  prosing  ha- 
rangues, being  the  trial  of  Erne  Deans,  and  the  probability  of 
her  being  executed.  Every  word  fell  on  Butler's  ear  like  the 
knell  of  a  death-bell  or  the  note  of  a  screech-owl. 

Jeanie  paused  at  the  door  of  her  lover's  humble  abode  upon 
hearing  the  loud  and  pompous  tones  of  Saddletree  sounding 
from  the  inner  apartment :  "  Credit  me,  it  will  be  sae,  Mr. 
Butler.  Brandy  cannot  save  her.  She  maun  gang  down  the 
Bow  wi'  the  lad  in  the  pioted  coat 1  at  her  heels.  I  am  sorry 
for  the  lassie,  but  the  law,  sir,  maun  hae  its  course — 

Vivat  rex, 
Currat  lex, 

as  the  poet  has  it,  in  whilk  of  Horace's  Odes  I  know  not." 

Here  Butler  groaned,  in  utter  impatience  of  the  brutality 
and  ignorance  which  Bartoline  had  contrived  to  amalgamate 
into  one  sentence.  But  Saddletree,  like  other  prosers,  was 
blessed  with  a  happy  obtuseness  of  perception  concerning  the 
unfavourable  impression  which  he  generally  made  on  his  audi- 
tors. He  proceeded  to  deal  forth  his  scraps  of  legal  knowl- 
edge without  mercy,  and  concluded  by  asking  Butler  with  great 
self-complacency,  "  Was  it  na  a  pity  my  father  didna  send  me 
to  Utrecht?    Havena  I  missed  the  chance  to  turn  out  as  clar- 

1  The  executioner,  in  a  livery  of  black  or  dark  grey  and  silver,  likened 
by  low  wit  to  a  magpie. 


316 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


issimus  an  ictus  as  auld  Grunwiggin  himsell?  What  for  dinna 
ye  speak,  Mr.  Butler?  Wad  I  no  hae  been  a  clarissimus  ictus  ? 
Eh,  man?" 

"I  really  do  not  understand  you,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  said 
Butler,  thus  pushed  hard  for  an  answer.  His  faint  and  ex- 
hausted tone  of  voice  was  instantly  drowned  in  the  sonorous 
bray  of  Bartoline. 

"No  understand  me,  man?  Ictus  is  Latin  for  a  lawyer,  is 
it  not?" 

"  Not  that  ever  I  heard  of, "  answered  Butler,  in  the  same 
dejected  tone. 

"The  deil  ye  didna!  See,  man,  I  got  the  word  but  this 
morning  out  of  a  memorial  of  Mr.  Crossmyloof's ;  see,  there  it 
is,  ictus  clarissimus  etperti — peritissimus;  it's  a'  Latin,  for  it's 
printed  in  the  Italian  types." 

"  Oh,  you  mean  juris- consultus  ?  Ictus  is  an  abbreviation 
for  juris- consultus." 

"Dinna  tell  me,  man,"  persevered  Saddletree;  "there's  nae 
abbreviates  except  in  adjudications;  and  this  is  a'  about  a 
servitude  of  water-drap,  that  is  to  say,  tillicidian1 — maybe 
ye'll  say  that's  no  Latin  neither — in  Mary  King's  Close  in 
the  High  Street." 

"  Very  likely, "  said  poor  Butler,  overwhelmed  by  the  noisy 
perseverance  of  his  visitor.  "  I  am  not  able  to  dispute  with 
you." 

"Few  folk  are — few  folk  are,  Mr.  Butler,  though  I  say  it 
that  shouldna  say  it,"  returned  Bartoline,  with  great  delight. 
"  Now,  it  will  be  twa  hours  yet  or  ye're  wanted  in  the  schule, 
and  as  ye  are  no  weel,  I'll  sit  wi'  you  to  divert  ye,  and  explain 
t'ye  the  nature  of  a  tillicidian.  Ye  maun  ken,  the  petitioner, 
Mrs.  Crombie,  a  very  decent  woman,  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and 
I  hae  stude  her  friend  in  this  case,  and  brought  her  wi'  credit 
into  the  court,  and  I  doubtna  that  in  due  time  she  will  win 
out  o't  wi'  credit,  win  she  or  lose  she.  Ye  see,  being  an  in- 
ferior tenement  or  laigh  house,  we  grant  ourselves  to  be  bur- 
dened wi'  the  tillicide,  that  is,  that  we  are  obligated  to  receive 
the  natural  water-drap  of  the  superior  tenement,  sae  far  as  the 
1  He  meant,  probably,  stillicidium. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


317 


same  fa's  frae  the  heavens,  or  the  roof  of  our  nieghbour's 
house,  and  from  thence  by  the  gutters  or  eaves  upon  our  laigh 
tenement.  But  the  other  night  comes  a  Highland  quean  of 
a  lass,  and  she  flashes,  God  kens  what,  out  at  the  eastmost 
window  of  Mrs.  MacPhail's  house,  that's  the  superior  tene- 
ment. I  believe  the  auld  women  wad  hae  greed,  for  Luckie 
MacPhail  sent  down  the  lass  to  tell  my  friend  Mrs.  Crombie 
that  she  had  made  the  gardyloo  out  of  the  wrang  window, 
from  respect  for  twa  Highlandmen  that  were  speaking  Gaelic 
in  the  close  below  the  right  ane.  But  luckily  for  Mrs.  Crom- 
bie, I  just  chanced  to  come  in  in  time  to  break  aff  the  com- 
muning, for  it's  a  pity  the  point  suldna  be  tried.  We  had 
Mrs.  MacPhail  into  the  Ten-Mark  Court.  The  Hieland  lim- 
mer  of  a  lass  wanted  to  swear  herself  free;  but  £Haud  ye 
there,'  says  I  " 

The  detailed  account  of  this  important  suit  might  have 
lasted  until  poor  Butler's  hour  of  rest  was  completely  ex- 
hausted, had  not  Saddletree  been  interrupted  by  the  noise  of 
voices  at  the  door.  The  woman  of  the  house  where  Butler 
lodged,  on  returning  with  her  pitcher  from  the  well,  whence 
she  had  been  fetching  water  for  the  family,  found  our  heroine 
Jeanie  Deans  standing  at  the  door,  impatient  of  the  prolix 
harangue  of  Saddletree,  yet  unwilling  to  enter  until  he  should 
have  taken  his  leave. 

The  good  woman  abridged  the  period  of  hesitation  by  in- 
quiring: "Was  ye  wanting  the  gudeman  or  me,  lass?" 

"I  wanted  to  speak  with  Mr.  Butler,  if  he's  at  leisure,"  re- 
plied Jeanie. 

"  Gang  in  bye  then,  my  woman, "  said  the  goodwif e ;  and 
opening  the  door  of  a  room,  she  announced  the  additional  visi- 
tor with:  "Mr.  Butler,  here's  a  lass  wants  to  speak  t'ye." 

The  surprise  of  Butler  was  extreme  when  Jeanie,  who  sel- 
dom stirred  half  a  mile  from  home,  entered  his  apartment 
upon  this  annunciation. 

"Good  God!"  he  said,  starting  from  his  chair,  while  alarm 
i  estored  to  his  cheek  the  colour  of  which  sickness  had  deprived 
it;  "some  new  misfortune  must  have  happened!" 

"  None,  Mr.  Reuben,  but  what  you  must  hae  heard  of ;  but 


318 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


oh,  ye  are  looking  ill  yoursell!"  for  "the  hectic  of  a  moment" 
had  nob  concealed  from  her  affectionate  eye  the  ravages  which 
lingering  disease  and  anxiety  of  mind  had  made  in  her  lover's 
person. 

"No;  I  am  well — quite  well/'  said  Butler,  with  eagerness; 
"if  I  can  do  anything  to  assist  you,  Jeanie — or  your  father." 

"Ay,  to  be  sure,"  said  Saddletree;  "the  family  may  be 
considered  as  limited  to  them  twa  now,  just  as  if  Effie  had 
never  been  in  the  tailzie,  puir  thing.  But,  Jeanie,  lass,  what 
brings  you  out  to  Liberton  sae  air  in  the  morning,  and  your 
father  lying  ill  in  the  Lucken booths?" 

"I  had  a  message  frae  my  father  to  Mr.  Butler,"  said 
Jeanie,  with  embarrassment;  but  instantly  feeling  ashamed 
of  the  fiction  to  which  she  had  resorted,  for  her  love  of  and 
veneration  for  truth  was  almost  Quaker-like,  she  corrected 
herself :  "  That  is  to  say,  I  wanted  to  speak  with  Mr.  Butler 
about  some  business  of  my  father's. and  puir  Erne's." 

"Is  it  law  business?"  said  Bartoline;  "because,  if  it  be,  ye 
had  better  take  my  opinion  on  the  subject  than  his." 

"It  is  not  just  law  business,"  said  Jeanie,  who  saw  consid- 
erable inconvenience  might  arise  from  letting  Mr.  Saddletree 
into  the  secret  purpose  of  her  journey;  "but  I  want  Mr.  But- 
ler to  write  a  letter  for  me." 

"Very  right,"  said  Mr.  Saddletree;  "and  if  ye'll  tell  me 
what  it  is  about,  I'll  dictate  to  Mr.  Butler  as  Mr.  Crossmyloof 
does  to  his  clerk.  Get  your  pen  and  ink  in  initialibus,  Mr. 
Butler." 

Jeanie  looked  at  Butler,  and  wrung  her  hands  with  vexation 
and  impatience. 

"I  believe,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  said  Butler,  who  saw  the  ne- 
cessity of  getting  rid  of  him  at  all  events,  "  that  Mr.  Whack- 
bairn  will  be  somewhat  affronted  if  you  do  not  hear  your  boys 
called  up  to  their  lessons." 

"Indeed,  Mr.  Butler,  and  that's  as  true;  and  I  promised  to 
ask  a  half  play-day  to  the  schule,  so  that  the  bairns  might 
gang  and  see  the  hanging,  which  canna  but  have  a  pleasing  ef- 
fect on  their  young  minds,  seeing  there  is  no  knowing  what 
they  may  come  to  themselves.    Odd  so,  I  didna  mind  ye  were 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


319 


here,  Jeanie  Deans ;  but  ye  maun  use  yoursell  to  hear  the  mat- 
ter spoken  o\  Keep  Jeanie  here  till  I  come  back,  Mr.  Butler; 
I  wunna  bide  ten  minutes." 

And  with  this  unwelcome  assurance  of  an  immediate  return, 
he  relieved  them  of  the  embarrassment  of  his  presence. 

"  Reuben, M  said  Jeanie,  who  saw  the  necessity  of  using  the 
interval  of  his  absence  in  discussing  what  had  brought  her 
there,  "  I  am  bound  on  a  lang  journey.  I  am  gaun  to  Lunnon 
to  ask  Effie's  life  of  the  king  and  of  the  queen." 

"Jeanie!  you  are  surely  not  yourself,"  answered  Butler,  in 
the  utmost  surprise ;  "  you  go  to  London — you  address  the  king 
and  queen!" 

"And  what  for  no,  Reuben?"  said  Jeanie,  with  all  the  com- 
posed simplicity  of  her  character;  "  it's  but  speaking  to  a  mor- 
tal man  and  woman  when  a'  is  done.  And  their  hearts  maun 
be  made  o'  flesh  and  blood  like  other  folks',  and  Effie's  story 
wad  melt  them  were  they  stane.  Forbye,  I  hae  heard  that 
they  are  no  sic  bad  folk  as  what  the  Jacobites  ca'  them. " 

"Yes,  Jeanie,"  said  Butler;  " but  their  magnificence,  their 
retinue,  the  difficulty  of  getting  audience?" 

"  I  have  thought  of  a'  that,  Reuben,  and  it  shall  not  break 
my  spirit.  Nae  doubt  their  claiths  will  be  very  grand,  wi' 
their  crowns  on  their  heads,  and  their  sceptres  in  their  hands, 
like  the  great  King  Ahasuerus  when  he  sate  upon  his  royal 
throne  foranent  the  gate  of  his  house,  as  we  are  told  in 
Scripture.  But  I  have  that  within  me  that  will  keep-  my 
heart  from  failing,  and  I  am  amaist  sure  that  I  will  be  strength- 
ened to  speak  the  errand  I  came  for." 

"Alas!  alas!"  said  Butler,  "the  kings  nowadays  do  not  sit 
in  the  gate  to  administer  justice,  as  in  patriarchal  times.  I 
know  as  little  of  courts  as  you  do,  Jeanie,  by  experience ;  but 
by  reading  and  report  I  know  that  the  King  of  Britain  does 
everything  by  means  of  his  ministers." 

"  And  if  they  be  upright,  God-fearing  ministers, "  said 
Jeanie,  "  it's  sae  muckle  the  better  the  chance  for  Efiie  and  me." 

"  But  you  do  not  even  understand  the  most  ordinary  words 
relating  to  a  court, "  said  Butler ;  "  by  the  ministry  is  meant 
not  clergymen,  but  the  king's  official  servants." 


320 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  ISTae  doubt, 99  returned  Jeanie,  "  he  maun  hae  a  great  num- 
ber, mair,  I  daur  to  say,  than  the  Duchess  has  at  Dalkeith ;  and 
great  folks'  servants  are  aye  mair  saucy  then  themselves.  But 
I'll  be  decently  put  on,  and  I'll  offer  them  a  trifle  o'  siller,  as 
if  I  came  to  see  the  palace.  Or,  if  they  scruple  that,  I'll  tell 
them  I'm  come  on  a  business  of  life  and  death,  and  then  they 
will  surely  bring  me  to  speech  of  the  king  and  queen?" 

Butler  shook  his  head.  "  Oh,  Jeanie,  this  is  entirely  a  wild 
dream.  You  can  never  see  them  but  through  some  great  lord's 
intercession,  and  I  think  it  is  scarce  possible  even  then." 

"  Weel,  but  maybe  I  can  get  that  too,"  said  Jeanie,  "with 
a  little  helping  from  you. " 

"  From  me,  Jeanie!  this  is  the  wildest  imagination  of  all." 

"  Ay,  but  it  is  not,  Reuben.  Havena  I  heard  you  say  that 
your  grandfather,  that  my  father  never  likes  to  hear  about, 
did  some  gude  lang  syne  to  the  forbear  of  this  MacCallum- 
more,  when  he  was  Lord  of  Lorn?" 

"He  did  so,"  said  Butler,  eagerly,  "and  I  can  prove  it.  I 
will  write  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle — report  speaks  him  a  good 
kindly  man,  as  he  is  known  for  a  brave  soldier  and  true  pa- 
triot— I  will  conjure  him  to  stand  between  your  sister  and  this 
cruel  fate.  There  is  but  a  poor  chance  of  success,  but  we  will 
try  all  means." 

"We  must  try  all  means,"  replied  Jeanie;  "but  writing 
winna  do  it :  a  letter  canna  look,  and  pray,  and  beg,  and  be- 
seech, as  the  human  voice  can  do  to  the  human  heart.  A  let- 
ter's like  the  music  that  the  ladies  have  for  their  spinets :  nae- 
thing  but  black  scores,  compared  to  the  same  tune  played  or 
sung.    It's  word  of  mouth  maun  do  it,  or  naething,  Reuben." 

"  You  are  right, "  said  Reuben,  recollecting  his  firmness,  "  and 
I  will  hope  that  Heaven  has  suggested  to  your  kind  heart  and 
firm  courage  the  only  possible  means  of  saving  the  life  of  this 
unfortunate  girl.  But,  Jeanie,  you  must  not  take  this  most 
perilous  journey  alone;  I  have  an  interest  in  you,  and  I  will 
not  agree  that  my  Jeanie  throws  herself  away.  You  must, 
even  in  the  present  circumstances,  give  me  a  husband's  right 
to  protect  you,  and  I  will  go  with  you  myself  on  this  journey, 
and  assist  you  to  do  your  duty  by  your  family. " 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


321 


"Alas,  Reuben!"  said  Jeanie  in  her  turn,  "this  must  not 
be ;  a  pardon  will  not  gie  my  sister  her  fair  fame  again,  or 
make  me  a  bride  fitting  for  an  honest  man  and  an  usefu'  min- 
ister. Wha  wad  mind  what  he  said  in  the  pu'pit,  that  had  to 
wife  the  sister  of  a  woman  that  was  condemned  for  sic  wick- 
edness?" 

"But,  Jeanie,"  pleaded  her  lover,  "I  do  not  believe,  and  I 
cannot  believe,  that  Efne  has  done  this  deed." 

"Heaven  bless  you  for  saying  sae,  Eeuben!"  answered 
Jeanie;  "but  she  maun  bear  the  blame  o't,  after  all." 

"  But  that  blame,  were  it  even  justly  laid  on  her,  does  not 
fall  on  you. " 

"  Ah,  Reuben,  Reuben, "  replied  the  young  woman,  "  ye  ken 
it  is  a  blot  that  spreads  to  kith  and  kin.  Ichabod,  as  my  poor 
father  says,  the  glory  is  departed  from  our  house;  for  the 
poorest  man's  house  has  a  glory,  where  there  are  true  hands, 
a  divine  heart,  and  an  honest  fame.  And  the  last  has  gane 
frae  us  a'." 

"  But,  Jeanie,  consider  your  word  and  plighted  faith  to  me ; 
and  would  ye  undertake  such  a  journey  without  a  man  to  pro- 
tect you?  and  who  should  that  protector  be  but  your  hus- 
band?" 

"  You  are  kind  and  good,  Reuben,  and  wad  tak  me  wi'  a' 
my  shame,  I  doubtna.  But  ye  canna  but  own  that  this  is  no 
time  to  marry  or  be  given  in  marriage.  Na,  if  that  suld  ever 
be,  it  maun  be  in  another  and  a  better  season.  And,  dear  Reu- 
ben, ye  speak  of  protecting  me  on  my  journey.  Alas!  who 
will  protect  and  take  care  of  you?  Your  very  limbs  tremble 
with  standing  for  ten  minutes  on  the  floor ;  how  eould  you  un- 
dertake a  journey  as  far  as  Lunnon?" 

"  But  I  am  strong — I  am  well, "  continued  Butler,  sinking 
in  his  seat  totally  exhausted,  "  at  least  I  shall  be  quite  well 
to-morrow. " 

"Ye  see,  and  ye  ken,  ye  maun  just  let  me  depart,"  said 
J eanie,  after  a  pause ;  and  then  taking  his  extended  hand,  and 
gazing  kindly  in  his  face,  she  added:  "It's  e'en  a  grief  the 
mair  to  me  to  see  you  in  this  way.  But  ye  maun  keep  up 
your  heart  for  Jeanie's  sake,  for  if  she  isna  your  wife,  she 


322 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


will  never  be  the  wife  of  living  man.  And  now  gie  me  the  pa- 
per for  MacCallummore,  and  bide  God  speed  me  on  my  way." 

There  was  something  of  romance  in  Jeanie's  venturous  reso- 
lution; yet,  on  consideration,  as  it  seemed  impossible  to  alter 
it  by  persuasion,  or  to  give  her  assistance  but  by  advice,  But- 
ler, after  some  farther  debate,  put  into  her  hand  the  paper  she 
desired,  which,  with  the  muster-roll  in  which  it  was  folded 
up,  were  the  sole  memorials  of  the  stout  and  enthusiastic  Bible 
Butler,  his  grandfather.  While  Butler  sought  this  document, 
Jeanie  had  time  to  take  up  his  pocket  Bible.  "  I  have  marked 
a  scripture, "  she  said,  as  she  again  laid  it  down,  "  with  your 
keelyvine  pen,  that  will  be  useful  to  us  baith.  And  ye  maun 
tak  the  trouble,  Reuben,  to  write  a'  this  to  my  father,  for,  God 
help  me,  I  have  neither  head  nor  hand  for  lang  letters  at  ony 
time,  f orbye  now ;  and  I  trust  him  entirely  to  you,  and  I  trust 
you  will  soon  be  permitted  to  see  him.  And,  Reuben,  when 
ye  do  win  to  the  speech  o'  him,  mind  a'  the  auld  man's  bits  o' 
ways,  for  Jeanie' s  sake;  and  dinna  speak  o'  Latin  or  English 
terms  to  him,  for  he's  o'  the  auld  warld,  and  downa  bide  to 
be  fashed  wi'  them,  though  I  dare  say  he  may  be  wrang.  And 
dinna  ye  say  muckle  to  him,  but  set  him  on  speaking  himsell,  for 
he'll  bring  himsell  mair  comfort  that  way.  And  oh,  Reuben, 
the  poor  lassie  in  yon  dungeon! — but  I  needna  bid  your  kind 
heart — gie  her  what  comfort  ye  can  as  soon  as  they  will  let  ye 

ses  her ;  tell  her  But  I  maunna  speak  mair  about  her, 

for  I  maunna  take  leave  o'  ye  wi'  the  tear  in  my  ee,  for  thai 
wadna  be  canny.    God  bless  ye,  Reuben!" 

To  avoid  so  ill  an  omen  she  left  the  room  hastily,  while  her 
features  yet  retained  the  mournful  and  affectionate  smile  which 
she  had  compelled  them  to  wear  in  order  to  support  Butler's 
spirits. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  power  of  sight,  of  speech,  and  of  reflec- 
tion had  left  him  as  she  disappeared  from  the  room,  which 
she  had  entered  and  retired  from  so  like  an  apparition.  Sad- 
dletree, who  entered  immediately  afterwards,  overwhelmed  him 
with  questions,  which  he  answered  without  understanding 
them,  and  with  legal  disquisitions,  which  conveyed  to  him  no 
iota  of  meaning.    At  length  the  learned  burgess  recollected 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  323 

that  there  was  a  baron  court  to  be  held  at  Loanhead  that  day, 
and  though  it  was  hardly  worth  while,  "  he  might  as  weel  go 
to  see  if  there  was  ony  thing  doing,  as  he  was  acquainted  with 
the  baron-bailie,  wTho  was  a  decent  man,  and  would  be  glad  of 
a  word  of  legal  advice." 

So  soon  as  he  departed,  Butler  flew  to  the  Bible,  the  last 
book  which  Jeanie  had  touched.  To  his  extreme  surprise,  a 
paper,  containing  two  or  three  pieces  of  gold,  dropped  from 
the  book.  With  a  black-lead  pencil  she  had  marked  the  six- 
teenth and  twenty-fifth  verses  of  the  thirty-seventh  Psalm: 
"  A  little  that  a  righteous  man  hath  is  better  than  the  riches 
of  the  wicked."  "I  have  been  young  and  am  now  old,  yet 
have  I  not  seen  the  righteous  forsaken,  nor  his  seed  begging 
their  bread." 

Deeply  impressed  with  the  affectionate  delicacy  which 
shrouded  its  own  generosity  under  the  cover  of  a  providential 
supply  to  his  wants,  he  pressed  the  gold  to  his  lips  with  more 
ardour  than  ever  the  metal  was  greeted  with  by  a  miser.  To 
emulate  her  devout  firmness  and  confidence  seemed  now  the 
pitch  of  his  ambition,  and  his  first  task  was  to  write  an  ac- 
count to  David  Deans  of  his  daughter's  resolution  and  journey 
southward.  He  studied  every  sentiment,  and  even  every 
phrase,  which  he  thought  could  reconcile  the  old  man  to  her 
extraordinary  resolution.  The  effect  which  this  epistle  pro- 
duced will  be  hereafter  adverted  to.  Butler  committed  it  to 
the  charge  of  an  honest  clown  who  had  frequent  dealings 
with  Deans  in  the  sale  of  his  dairy  produce,  and  who  readily 
undertook  a  journey  to  Edinburgh  to  put  the  letter  into  his 
own  hands. 1 

1  By  dint  of  assiduous  research,  I  am  enabled  to  certiorate  the  reader 
that  the  name  of  this  person  was  Saunders  Broadfoot,  and  that  he  dealt  in 
the  wholesale  commodity  called  kirn-milk  (Anglice,  butter-milk).— J.  0. 


324 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
My  native  land,  good  night ! 

Lord  Byron. 

In  the  present  day,  a  journey  from  Edinburgh  to  London  is 
a  matter 'at  once  safe,  brief,  and  simple,  however  inexperienced 
or  unprotected  the  traveller.  Numerous  coaches  of  different 
rates  of  charge,  and  as  many  packets,  are  perpetually  passing 
and  repassing  betwixt  the  capital  of  Britain  and  her  northern 
sister,  so  that  the  most  timid  or  indolent  may  execute  such  a 
journey  upon  a  few  hours'  notice.  But  it  was  different  in  1 737. 
So  slight  and  infrequent  was  then  the  intercourse  bewixt  Lon- 
don and  Edinburgh  that  men  still  alive  remember,  that  upon 
one  occasion  the  mail  from  the  former  city  arrived  at  the  Gen- 
eral Post-Office  in  Scotland  with  only  one  letter  in  it. 1  The 
usual  mode  of  travelling  was  by  means  of  post-horses,  the 
traveller  occupying  one  and  his  guide  another,  in  which  man- 
ner, by  relays  of  horses  from  stage  to  stage,  the  journey  might 
be  accomplished  in  a  wonderfully  short  time  by  those  who 
could  endure  fatigue.  To  have  the  bones  shaken  to  pieces  by 
a  constant  change  of  those  hacks  was  a  luxury  for  the  rich ; 
the  poor  were  under  the  necessity  of  using  the  mode  of  con- 
veyance with  which  nature  had  provided  them. 

With  a  strong  heart,  and  a  frame  patient  of  fatigue,  J eanie 
Deans,  travelling  at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  a  day,  and  some- 
times farther,  traversed  the  southern  part  of  Scotland  and  ad- 
vanced as  far  as  Durham. 

Hitherto  she  had  been  either  among  her  own  country-folk, 
or  those  to  whom  her  bare  feet  and  tartan  screen  were  objects 
too  familiar  to  attract  much  attention.  But  as  she  advanced, 
she  perceived  that  both  circumstances  exposed  her  to  sarcasm 
and  taunts  which  she  might  otherwise  have  escaped ;  and  al- 
though in  her  heart  she  thought  it  unkind  and  inhospitable 
to  sneer  at  a  passing  stranger  on  account  of  the  fashion  of  her 
attire,  yet  she  had  the  good  sense  to  alter  those  parts  of  her 

1  The  fact  is  certain.  The  single  epistle  was  addressed  to  the  principal 
director  of  the  British  Linen  Company. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  325 

dress  which  attracted  ill-natured  observation.  Her  checqued 
screen  was  deposited  carefully  in  her  bundle,  and  she  con- 
formed to  the  national  extravagance  of  wearing  shoes  and 
stockings  for  the  whole  day.  She  confessed  afterwards  that, 
"  besides  the  wastrif  e,  it  was  lang  or  she  could  walk  sae  com- 
fortably with  the  shoes  as  without  them ;  but  there  was  often 
a  bit  saft  heather  by  the  roadside,  and  that  helped  her  weel 
on."  The  want  of  the  screen,  which  was  drawn  over  the 
head  like  a  veil,  she  supplied  by  a  bon-grace,  as  she  called  it 
— a  large  straw  bonnet,  like  those  worn  by  the  English  maid- 
ens when  labouring  in  the  fields.  "  But  I  thought  unco  shame 
o'  mysell,"  she  said,  "the  first  time  I  put  on  a  married  wo- 
man's bon-grace,  and  me  a  single  maiden." 

With  these  changes  she  had  little,  as  she  said,  to  make 
"  her  kenspeckle  when  she  didna  speak, "  but  her  accent  and 
language  drew  down  on  her  so  many  jests  and  gibes,  couched 
in  a  worse  patois  by  far  than  her  own,  that  she  soon  found  it 
was  her  interest  to  talk  as  little  and  as  seldom  as  possible. 
She  answered,  therefore,  civil  salutations  of  chance  passengers 
with  a  civil  courtesy,  and  chose,  with  anxious  circumspection, 
such  places  of  repose  as  looked  at  once  most  decent  and  se- 
questered. She  found  the  common  people  of  England,  al- 
though inferior  in  courtesy  to  strangers,  such  as  was  then 
practised  in  her  own  more  unfrequented  country,  yet,  upon 
the  whole,  by  no  measure  deficient  in  the  real  duties  of  hospi- 
tality. She  readily  obtained  food,  and  shelter,  and  protection 
at  a  very  moderate  rate,  which  sometimes  the  generosity  of 
mine  host  altogether  declined,  with  a  blunt  apology :  "  Thee 
hast  a  lang  way  afore  thee,  lass;  and  Fse  ne'er  take  penny 
out  o'  a  single  woman's  purse;  it's  the  best  friend  thou  can 
have  on  the  road." 

It  often  happened,  too,  that  mine  hostess  was  struck  with 
"  the  tidy,  nice  Scotch  body, "  and  procured  her  an  escort,  or 
a  cast  in  a  waggon,  for  some  part  of  the  way,  or  gave  her  use- 
ful advice  and  recommendation  respecting  her  resting-places. 

At  York  our  pilgrim  stopped  for  the  best  part  of  a  day — 
partly  to  recruit  her  strength,  partly  because  she  had  the  good 
luck  to  obtain  a  lodging  in  an  inn  kept  by  a  countrywoman, 


326 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


partly  to  indite  two  letters  to  her  father  and  Reuben  Butler, 
an  operation  of  some  little  difficulty,  her  habits  being  by  no 
means  those  of  literary  composition.  That  to  her  father  was 
in  the  following  words : 

"Dearest  Father: 

"I  make  my  present  pilgrimage  more  heavy  and  bur- 
densome through  the  sad  occasion  to  reflect  that  it  is  without 
your  knowledge,  which,  God  knows,  was  far  contrary  to  my 
heart;  for  Scripture  says  that,  'the  vow  of  the  daughter 
should  not  be  binding  without  the  consent  of  the  father,' 
wherein  it  may  be  I  have  been  guilty  to  tak  this  wearie  jour- 
ney without  your  consent.  Nevertheless,  it  was  borne  in  upon 
my  mind  that  I  should  be  an  instrument  to  help  my  poor  sis- 
ter in  this  extremity  of  needcessity,  otherwise  I  wad  not,  for 
wealth  or  for  world's  gear,  or  for  the  haill  lands  of  Da'keith 
and  Lugton,  have  done  the  like  o'  this,  without  your  free 
will  and  knowledge.  Oh,  dear  father,  as  ye  wad  desire  a 
blessing  on  my  journey,  and  upon  your  household,  speak  a 
word  or  write  a  line  of  comfort  to  yon  poor  prisoner.  If  she 
has  sinned,  she  has  sorrowed  and  suffered,  and  ye  ken  better 
than  me  that  we  maun  f orgie  others,  as  we  pray  to  be  forgien. 
Dear  father,  forgive  my  saying  this  muckle,  for  it  doth  not 
become  a  young  head  to  instruct  grey  hairs ;  but  I  am  sae  far 
frae  ye,  that  my  heart  yearns  to  ye  a',  and  fain  wad  I  hear 
that  ye  had  forgien  her  trespass,  and  sae  I  nae  doubt  say 
mair  than  may  become  me.  The  folk  here  are  civil,  and,  like 
the  barbarians  unto  the  holy  apostle,  hae  shown  me  much 
kindness ;  and  there  are  a  sort  of  chosen  people  in  the  land, 
for  they  hae  some  kirks  without  organs  that  are  like  ours,  and 
are  called  meeting-houses,  where  the  minister  preaches  with- 
out a  gown.  But  most  of  the  country  are  prelatists,  whilk  is 
awf u'  to  think ;  and*  I  saw  twa  men  that  were  ministers  fol- 
lowing hunds,  as  bauld  as  Roslin  or  Driden,  the  young  Laird 
of  Loup-the-Dike,  or  ony  wild  gallant  in  Lothian.  A  sorrow- 
fu'  sight  to  behold!  Oh,  dear  father,  may  a  blessing  be  with 
your  down-lying  and  up-rising,  and  remember  in  your  prayers 
your  affectionate  daughter  to  command,        Jean  Deans." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


327 


A  postscript  bore :  "  I  learned  from  a  decent  woman,  a  gra- 
zier's widow,  that  they  hae  a  cure  for  the  muir-ill  in  Cumber- 
land, whilk  is  ane  pint,  as  they  ca't,  of  yill — whilk  is  a  dribble 
in  comparison  of  our  gawsie  Scots  pint,  and  hardly  a  mutch- 
kin — boil'd  wi'  sope  and  hartshorn  draps,  and  toomed  doun 
the  creature's  throat  wi'  ane  whom.  Ye  might  try  it  on  the 
bauson -faced  year-auld  quey ;  an  it  does  nae  gude,  it  can  do 
nae  ill.  She  was  a  kind  woman,  and  seemed  skeely  about 
horned  beasts.  When  I  reach  Lunnon,  I  intend  to  gang  to 
our  cousin  Mistress  Glass,  the  tobacconist,  at  the  sign  o'  the 
Thistle,  wha  is  so  ceevil  as  to  send  you  down  your  spleuchan- 
fu'  anes  a  year;  and  as  she  must  be  weel  kenn'd  in  Lunnon,  I 
doubt  not  easily  to  find  out  where  she  lives." 

Being  seduced  into  betraying  our  heroine's  confidence  thus 
far,  we  will  stretch  our  communication  a  step  beyond,  and 
impart  to  the  reader  her  letter  to  her  lover. 

"  Mr.  Eeuben  Butler  : 

"  Hoping  this  will  find  you  better,  this  comes  to  say, 
that  I  have  reached  this  great  town  safe,  and  am  not  wearied 
with  walking,  but  the  better  for  it.  And  I  have  seen  many 
things  which  I  trust  to  tell  you  one  day,  also  the  muckle  kirk 
of  this  place ;  and  all  around  the  city  are  mills,  whilk  havena 
muckle  wheels  nor  mill-dams,  but  gang  by  the  wind — strange 
to  behold.  Ane  miller  asked  me  to  gang  in  and  see  it  work, 
but  I  wad  not,  for  I  am  not  come  to  the  south  to  make  ac- 
quaintance with  strangers.  I  keep  the  straight  road,  and  just 
beck  if  ony  body  speaks  to  me  ceevilly,  and  answers  naebody 
with  the  tong  but  women  of  mine  ain  sect.  I  wish,  Mr.  Butler, 
I  kenn'd  ony  thing  that  wad  mak  ye  weel,  for  they  hae  mair 
medicines  in  this  town  of  York  than  wad  cure  a'  Scotland, 
and  surely  some  of  them  wad  be  gude  for  your  complaints. 
If  ye  had  a  kindly  motherly  body  to  nurse  ye,  and  no  to  let 
ye  waste  yoursell  wi?  reading — whilk  ye  read  mair  than  eneugh 
with  the  bairns  in  the  schule — and  to  gie  ye  warm  milk  in  the 
morning,  I  wad  be  mair  easy  for  ye.  Dear  Mr.  Butler,  keep 
a  good  heart,  for  we  are  in  the  hands  of  Ane  that  kens  better 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


what  is  glide  for  us  than  we  ken  what  is  for  oursells.  I  hae 
nae  doubt  to  do  that  for  which  I  am  come :  I  canna  doubt  it — 
I  winna  think  to  doubt  it ;  because,  if  I  haena  full  assurance, 
how  shall  I  bear  myself  with  earnest  entreaties  in  the  great 
folks'  presence?  But  to  ken  that  ane's  purpose  is  right,  and 
to  make  their  heart  strong,  is  the  way  to  get  through  the 
warst  day's  darg.  The  bairns'  rime  says,  the  warst  blast  of 
the  borrowing  days 1  couldna  kill  the  three  silly  poor  hog- 
lambs.  And  if  it  be  God's  pleasure,  we  that  are  sindered  in 
sorrow  may  meet  again  in  joy,  even  on  this  hither  side  of 
Jordan.  I  dinna  bid  ye  mind  what  I  said  at  our  partin'  anent 
my  poor  father  and  that  misfortunate  lassie,  for  I  ken  you 
will  do  sae  for  the  sake  of  Christian  charity,  whilk  is  mair 
than  the  entreaties  of  her  that  is  your  servant  to  command, 

u  Jeanie  Deans." 

This  letter  also  had  a  postscript.  "Dear  Reuben,  If  ye 
think  that  it  wad  hae  been  right  for  me  to  have  said  mair  and 
kinder  things  to  ye,  just  think  that  I  hae  written  sae,  since  I 
am  sure  that  I  wish  a'  that  is  kind  and  right  to  ye  and  by  ye. 
Ye  will  think  I  am  turned  waster,  for  I  wear  clean  hose  and 
shoon  every  day;  but  it's  the  fashion  here  for  decent  bodies, 
and  ilka  land  has  its  ain  lauch.  Ower  and  aboon  a',  if  laughing 
days  were  e'er  to  come  back  again  till  us,  ye  wad  laugh  weel 
to  see  my  round  face  at  the  far  end  of  a  strae  bon-grace,  that 
looks  as  muckle  and  round  as  the  middell  aisle  in  Liberton 
kirk.  But  it  sheds  the  sun  weel  aff,  and  keeps  unceevil  folk 
f rae  staring  as  if  ane  were  a  worriecow.  I  sail  tell  ye  by  writ 
how  I  come  on  wi'  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  when  I  won  up  to  Lun- 
non.  Direct  a  line,  to  say  how  ye  are,  to  me,  to  the  charge 
of  Mrs.  Margaret  Glass,  tobacconist,  at  the  sign  of  the  Thistle, 
Lunnon,  whilk,  if  it  assures  me  of  your  health,  will  make  my 
mind  sae  muckle  easier.  Excuse  bad  spelling  and  writing,  as 
I  have  ane  ill  pen." 

The  orthography  of  these  epistles  may  seem  to  the  southron 

1  See  Note  29. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


329 


to  require  a  better  apology  than  the  letter  expresses,  though 
a  bad  pen  was  the  excuse  of  a  certain  Galwegian  laird  for  bad 
spelling ;  but,  on  behalf  of  the  heroine,  I  would  have  them  to 
know  that,  thanks  to  the  care  of  Butler,  Jeanie  Deans  wrote 
and  spelled  fifty  times  better  than  half  the  women  of  rank  in 
Scotland  at  that  period,  whose  strange  orthography  and  sin- 
gular diction  form  the  strongest  contrast  to  the  good  sense 
which  their  correspondence  usually  intimates. 

For  the  rest,  in  the. tenor  of  these  epistles,  Jeanie  expressed, 
perhaps,  more  hopes,  a  firmer  courage,  and  better  spirits  than 
she  actually  felt.  But  this  was  with  the  amiable  idea  of  re- 
lieving her  father  and  lover  from  apprehensions  on  her  account, 
which  she  was  sensible  must  greatly  add  to  their  other  trou- 
bles. "  If  they  think  me  weel,  and  like  to  do  weel,"  said  the 
poor  pilgrim  to  herself,  "  my  father  will  be  kinder  to  Effie,  and 
Butler  will  be  kinder  to  himself.  For  I  ken  weel  that  they 
will  think  mair  o'  me  than  I  do  o?  myself." 

Accordingly,  she  sealed  her  letters  carefully,  and  put  them 
into  the  post-office  with  her  own  hand,  after  many  inquiries 
concerning  the  time  in  which  they  were  likely  to  reach  Edin- 
burgh. When  this  duty  was  performed,  she  readily  accepted 
her  landlady's  pressing  invitation  to  dine  with  her,  and  re- 
main till  the  next  morning.  The  hostess,  as  we  have  said, 
was  her  countrywoman,  and  the  eagerness  with  which  Scot- 
tish people  meet,  communicate,  and,  to  the  extent  of  their 
power,  assist  each  other,  although  it  is  often  objected  to  us  as 
a  prejudice  and  narrowness  of  sentiment,  seems,  on  the  con- 
trary, to  arise  from  a  most  justifiable  and  honourable  feeling  of 
patriotism,  combined  with  a  conviction,  which,  if  undeserved, 
would  long  since  have  been  confuted  by  experience,  that  the 
habits  and  principles  of  the  nation  are  a  sort  of  guarantee  for 
the  character  of  the  individual.  At  any  rate,  if  the  extensive 
influence  of  this  national  partiality  be  considered  as  an  addi- 
tional tie,  binding  man  to  man,  and  calling  forth  the  good 
offices  of  such  as  can  render  them  to  the  countryman  who  hap- 
pens to  need  them,  we  think  it  must  be  found  to  exceed,  as  an 
active  and  efficient  motive  to  generosity,  that  more  impartial 
and  wider  principle  of  general  benevolence,  which  we  have 


330 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


sometimes  seen  pleaded  as  an  excuse  for  assisting  no  individ- 
ual whatever. 

Mrs.  Bickerton,  lady  of  the  ascendant  of  the  Seven  Stars, 
in  the  Castle  Gate,  York,  was  deeply  infected  with  the  unfor- 
tunate prejudices  of  her  country.  Indeed,  she  displayed  so 
much  kindness  to  Jeanie  Deans  (because  she  herself,  being  a 
Merse  woman,  "  marched  "  with  Midlothian,  in  which  Jeanie 
was  born),  showed  such  motherly  regard  to  her,  and  such  anx- 
iety for  her  farther  progress,  that  Jeanie. thought  herself  safe, 
though  by  temper  sufficiently  cautious,  in  communicating  her 
whole  story  to  her. 

Mrs.  Bickerton  raised  her  hands  and  eyes  at  the  recital,  and 
exhibited  much  wonder  and  pity.  But  she  also  gave  some  ef- 
fectual good  advice. 

She  required  to  know  the  strength  of  Jeanie' s  purse,  reduced 
by  her  deposit  at  Liberton  and  the  necessary  expense  of  her 
journey  to  about  fifteen  pounds.  "This,"  she  said,  "would 
do  very  well,  providing  she  could  carry  it  a'  safe  to  London." 

"Safe!"  answered  Jeanie.  "  I' se  warrant  my  carrying  it 
safe,  bating  the  needful  expenses." 

"Ay,  but  highwaymen,  lassie,"  said  Mrs.  Bickerton;  "for 
ye  are  come  into  a  more  civilised,  that  is  to  say,  a  more  rogu- 
ish, country  than  the  north,  and  how  ye  are  to  get  forward  I 
do  not  profess  to  know.  If  ye  could  wait  here  eight  days,  our 
waggons  would  go  up,  and  I  would  recommend  you  to  Joe 
Broadwheel,  who  would^see  you  safe  to  the  Swan  and  Two 
Necks.  And  dinna  sneeze  at  Joe,  if  he  should  be  for  drawing 
up  wi'  you,"  continued  Mrs.  Bickerton,  her  acquired  English 
mingling  with  her  national  or  original  dialect;  "he's  a  handy 
boy,  and  a  wanter,  and  no  lad  better  thought  o'  on  the  road ; 
and  the  English  make  good  husbands  enough,  witness  my  poor 
man,  Moses  Bickerton,  as  is  i?  the  kirkyard." 

Jeanie  hastened  to  say  that  she  could  not  possibly  wait  for 
the  setting  forth  of  J oe  Broadwheel ;  being  internally  by  no 
means  gratified  with  the  idea  of  becoming  the  object  of  his 
attention  during  the  journey. 

"Aweel,  lass,"  answered  the  good  landlady,  "then  thou 
must  pickle  in  thine  ain  poke-nook,  and  buckle  tlrv  girdle 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


331 


thine  aiii  gate.  But  take  my  advice,  and  hide  thy  gold  in 
thy  stays,  and  keep  a  piece  or  two  and  some  silver,  in  case 
thou  be'st  spoke  withal;  for  there's  as  wud  lads  haunt  within 
a  day's  walk  from  hence  as  on  the  Braes  of  Doune  in  Perth- 
shire. And,  lass,  thou  maunna  gang  staring  through  Lunnon, 
asking  wha  kens  Mrs.  Glass  at  the  sign  o?  the  Thistle;  marry, 
they  would  laugh  thee  to  scorn.  But  gang  thou  to  this  honest 
man,"  and  she  put  a  direction  into  Jeanie's  hand;  "he  kens 
maist  part  of  the  sponsible  Scottish  folk  in  the  city,  and  he 
will  find  out  your  friend  for  thee." 

Jeanie  took  the  little  introductory  letter  with  sincere 
thanks;  but,  something  alarmed  on  the  subject  of  the  high- 
way robbers,  her  mind  recurred  to  what  Ratcliffe  had  men- 
tioned to  her,  and  briefly  relating  the  circumstances  which 
placed  a  document  so  extraordinary  in  her  hands,  she  put  the 
paper  he  had  given  her  into  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Bickerton. 

The  Lady  of  the  Seven  Stars  did  not,  indeed,  ring  a  bell, 
because  such  was  not  the  fashion  of  the  time,  but  she  whistled 
on  a  silver  call,  which  was  hung  by  her  side,  and  a  tight  serv- 
ing-maiden entered  the  room. 

"Tell  Dick  Ostler  to  come  here,"  said  Mrs.  Bickerton. 

Dick  Ostler  accordingly  made  his  appearance — a  queer, 
knowing,  shambling  animal,  with  a  hatchet-face,  a  squint,  a 
game  arm,  and  a  limp. 

"Dick  Ostler,"  said  Mrs.  Bickerton,  in  a  tone  of  authority 
that  showed  she  was  at  least  by  adoption  Yorkshire  too,  "  thou 
knowest  most  people  and  most  things  o'  the  road." 

"Eye,  eye,  God  help  me,  mistress,"  said  Dick,  shrugging 
his  shoulders  betwixt  a  repentant  and  a  knowing  expression — 
"eye!  I  ha?  know'd  a  thing  or  twa  i?  ma  day,  mistress." 
He  looked  sharp  and  laughed,  looked  grave  and  sighed,  as 
one  who  was  prepared  to  take  the  matter  either  way. 

"Kenst  thou  this  wee  bit  paper  amang  the  rest,  man?"  said 
Mrs.  Bickerton,  handing  him  the  protection  which  Ratcliffe 
had  given  Jeanie  Deans. 

When  Dick  had  looked  at  the  paper,  he  winked  with  one 
eye,  extended  his  grotesque  mouth  from  ear  to  ear,  like  a 
navigable  canal,  scratched  his  head  powerfully,  and  then  said : 


332 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"Ken!  Ay,  maybe  we  ken  summat,  an  it  werena  for  harm  to 
him,  mistress." 

"  None  in  the  world, "  said  Mrs.  Bickerton ;  "  only  a  dram 
of  Hollands  to  thyself,  man,  an  thou  will't  speak." 

"Why,  then,"  said  Dick,  giving  the  head-band  of  his 
breeches  a  knowing  hoist  with  one  hand,  and  kicking  out  one 
foot  behind  him  to  accommodate  the  adjustment  of  that  im- 
portant habiliment,  "  I  dares  to  say  the  pass  will  be  kenn'd 
weel  eneugh  on  the  road,  an  that  be  all." 

"  But  what  sort  of  a  lad  was  he?"  said  Mrs.  Bickerton, 
winking  to  Jeanie,  as  proud  of  her  knowing  hostler. 

"Why,  what  ken  I?  Jim  the  Eat!  why  he  was  cock  o'  the 
North  within  this  twelvemonth,  he  and  Scotch  Wilson,  Handie 
Dandie,  as  they  called  him.  But  he's  been  out  o?  this  country 
a  while,  as  I  rackon;  but  ony  gentleman  as  keeps  the  road  o? 
this  side  Stamford  will  respect  Jim's  pass." 

Without  asking  farther  questions  the  landlady  filled  Dick 
Ostler  a  bumper  of  Hollands.  He  ducked  with  his  head  and 
shoulders,  scraped  with  his  more  advanced  hoof,  bolted  the 
alcohol,  to  use  the  learned  phrase,  and  withdrew  to  his  own 
domains. 

"  I  would  advise  thee,  Jeanie, "  said  Mrs.  Bickerton,  "  an 
thou  meetest  with  ugly  customers  o?  the  road,  to  show  them 
this  bit  paper,  for  it  will  serve  thee,  assure  thyself." 

A  neat  little  supper  concluded  the  evening.  The  exported 
Scotswoman,  Mrs.  Bickerton  by  name,  eat  heartily  of  one  or 
two  seasoned  dishes,  drank  some  sound  old  ale,  and  a  glass  of 
stiff  negus,  while  she  gave  Jeanie  a  history  of  her  gout,  ad- 
miring how  it  was  possible  that  she,  whose  fathers  and  moth- 
ers for  many  generations  had  been  farmers  in  Lammermuir, 
could  have  come  by  a  disorder  so  totally  unknown  to  them. 
Jeanie  did  not  choose  to  offend  her  friendly  landlady  by 
speaking  her  mind  on  the  probable  origin  of  this  complaint ; 
but  she  thought  on  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  and,  in  spite  of 
all  entreaties  to  better  fare,  made  her  evening  meal  upon  vege- 
tables, with  a  glass  of  fair  water. 

Mrs.  Bickerton  assured  her  that  the  acceptance  of  any  reckon- 
ing was  entirely  out  of  the  question,  furnished  her  with  creden- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


333 


tials  to  her  correspondent  in  London,  and  to  several  inns  upon 
the  road  where  she  had  some  influence  or  interest,  reminded 
her  of  the  precautions  she  should  adopt  for  concealing  her 
money,  and,  as  she  was  to  depart  early  in  the  morning,  took 
leave  of  her  very  affectionately,  taking  her  word  that  she  would 
visit  her  on  her  return  to  Scotland,  and  tell  her  how  she  had 
managed,  and  that  summum  bonum  for  a  gossip,  "  all  how  and 
about  it."    This  Jeanie  faithfully  promised. 


CHAPTEE  XXIX. 

And  Need  and  Misery,  Vice  and  Danger,  bind, 
In  sad  alliance,  each  degraded  mind. 

As  our  traveller  set  out  early  on  the  ensuing  morning  to 
prosecute  her  journey,  and  was  in  the  act  of  leaving  the  inn- 
yard,  Dick  Ostler,  who  either  had  risen  early  or  neglected  to 
go  to  bed,  either  circumstance  being  equally  incident  to  his 
calling,  hallooed  out  after  her :  "  The  top  of  the  morning  to 
you,  Moggie!  Have  a  care  o?  Gunnerby  Hill,  young  one. 
Robin  Hood's  dead  and  gwone,  but  there  be  takers  yet  in  the 
vale  of  Beever."  Jeanie  looked  at  him  as  if  to  request  a 
further  explanation,  but,  with  a  leer,  a  shuffle,  and  a  shrug, 
inimitable  (unless  by  Emery),  Dick  turned  again  to  the  raw- 
boned  steed  which  he  was  currying,  and  sung  as  he  employed 
the  comb  and  brush : 

14  Robin  Hood  was  a  yeoman  good, 
And  his  bow  was  of  trusty  yew ; 
And  if  Robin  said  stand  on  the  king's  lea-land, 
Pray,  why  should  not  we  say  so  too  ?  ' ' 

Jeanie  pursued  her  journey  without  farther  inquiry,  for  there 
was  nothing  in  Dick's  manner  that  inclined  her  to  prolong  their 
conference.  A  painful  day's  journey  brought  her  to  Ferry- 
bridge, the  best  inn,  then  and  since,  upon  the  great  northern 
road;  and  an  introduction  from  Mrs.  Bickerton,  added  to  her 
own  simple  and  quiet  manners,  so  propitated  the  landlady  of 
the  Swan  in  her  favour  that  the  good  dame  procured  her  the 


334 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


convenient  accommodation  of  a  pillion  and  post-horse  then  re- 
turning to  Tuxf ord ;  so  that  she  accomplished,  upon  the  second 
day  after  leaving  York,  the  longest  journey  she  had  yet  made. 
She  was  a  good  deal  fatigued  by  a  mode  of  travelling  to  which 
she  was  less  accustomed  than  to  walking,  and  it  was  consid- 
erably later  than  usual  on  the  ensuing  morning  that  she  felt 
herself  able  to  resume  her  pilgrimage.  At  noon  the  hundred- 
armed  Trent,  and  the  blackened  ruins  of  Newark  Castle,  de- 
molished in  the  great  Civil  War,  lay  before  her.  It  may  easily 
be  supposed  that  Jeanie  had  no  curiosity  to  make  antiquarian 
researches,  but,  entering  the  town,  went  straight  to  the  inn  to 
which  she  had  been  directed  at  Ferrybridge.  While  she  pro- 
cured some  refreshment,  she  observed  the  girl  who  brought 
it  to  her  looked  at  her  several  times  with  fixed  and  peculiar 
interest,  and  at  last,  to  her  infinite  surprise,  inquired  if  her 
name  was  not  Deans,  and  if  she  was  not  a  Scotchwoman,  go- 
ing to  London  upon  justice  business.  Jeanie,  with  all  her 
simplicity  of  character,  had  some  of  the  caution  of  her  coun- 
try, and,  according  to  Scottish  universal  custom,  she  answered 
the  question  by  another,  requesting  the  girl  would  tell  her 
why  she  asked  these  questions. 

The  Maritornes  of  the  Saracen's  Head,  Newark,  replied: 
"  Two  women  had  passed  that  morning,  who  had  made  in- 
quiries after  one  Jeanie  Deans,  travelling  to  London  on  such 
an  errand,  and  could  scarce  be  persuaded  that  she  had  not 
passed  on." 

Much  surprised,  and  somewhat  alarmed,  for  what  is  inex- 
plicable is  usually  alarming,  Jeanie  questioned  the  wench 
about  the  particular  appearance  of  these  two  women,  but  could 
only  learn  that  the  one  was  aged  and  the  other  young ;  that 
the  latter  was  the  taller,  and  that  the  former  spoke  most,  and 
seemed  to  maintain  an  authority  over  her  companion,  and  that 
both  spoke  with  the  Scottish  accent. 

This  conveyed  no  information  whatever,  and  with  an  inde- 
scribable presentiment  of  evil  designed  towards  her,  Jeanie 
adopted  the  resolution  of  taking  post-horses  for  the  next  stage. 
In  this,  however,  she  could  not  be  gratified ;  some  accidental 
circumstances  had  occasioned  what  is  called  a  run  upon  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  335 


road,  and  the  landlord  could  not  accommodate  her  with  a 
guide  and  horses.  After  waiting  some  time,  in  hopes  that  a 
pair  of  horses  that  had  gone  southward  would  return  in  time 
for  her  use,  she  at  length,  feeling  ashamed  of  her  own  pu- 
sillanimity, resolved  to  prosecute  her  journey  in  her  usual 
manner. 

"  It  was  all  plain  road, "  she  was  assured,  "  except  a  high 
mountain,  called  Gunnerby  Hill,  about  three  miles  from 
Grantham,  which  was  her  stage  for  the  night." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  there's  a  hill,"  said  Jeanie,  "for  baith 
my  sight  and  my  very  feet  are  weary  o'  sic  tracts  o'  level 
ground;  it  looks  a'  the  way  between  this  and  York  as  if  a' 
the  land  had  been  trenched  and  levelled,  whilk  is  very  weari- 
some to  my  Scotch  een.  When  I  lost  sight  of  a  muckle  blue 
hill  they  ca'  Ingleboro',  I  thought  I  hadna  a  friend  left  in 
this  strange  land." 

"  As  for  the  matter  of  that,  young  woman, "  said  mine  host, 
"  an  you  be  so  fond  o'  hill,  I  car  en  a  an  thou  couldst  carry 
Gunnerby  away  with  thee  in  thy  lap,  for  it's  a  murder  to 
post-horses.  But  here's  to  thy  journey,  and  mayst  thou  win 
well  through  it,  for  thou  is  a  bold  and  a  canny  lass." 

So  saying,  he  took  a  powerful  pull  at  a  solemn  tankard  of 
home-brewed  ale. 

"  I  hope  there  is  nae  bad  company  on  the  road,  sir?"  said 
Jeanie. 

"  Why,  when  it's  clean  without  them  I'll  thatch  Groby  pool 
wi'  pancakes.  But  there  arena  sae  mony  now ;  and  since  they 
hae  lost  Jim  the  Eat,  they  hold  together  no  better  than  the 
men  of  Marsham  when  they  lost  their  common.  Take  a  drop 
ere  thou  goest, "  he  concluded,  offering  her  the  tankard ;  "  thou 
wilt  get  naething  at  night  save  Grantham  gruel,  nine  grots  and 
a  gallon  of  water." 

J eanie  courteously  declined  the  tankard,  and  inquired  what 
was  her  "lawing." 

"  Thy  lawing!  Heaven  help  thee,  wench!  what  ca'st  thou 
that?" 

"  It  is — I  was  wanting  to  ken  what  was  to  pay, "  replied 
Jeanie. 


336 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"Pay!  Lord  help  thee!  why,  nought,  woman;  we  hae 
drawn  no  liquor  but  a  gill  o'  beer,  and  the  Saracen's  Head 
can  spare  a  mouthful  o?  meat  to  a  stranger  like  o'  thee,  that 
cannot  speak  Christian  language.  So  here's  to  thee  once 
more.  'The  same  again,  quoth  Mark  of  Bellgrave,'  "  and  he 
took  another  profound  pull  at  the  tankard. 

The  travellers  who  have  visited  Newark  more  lately  will 
not  fail  to  remember  the  remarkably  civil  and  gentlemanly 
manners  of  the  person  who  now  keeps  the  principal  inn  there, 
and  may  find  some  amusement  in  contrasting  them  with  those  of 
his  more  rough  predecessor.  But  we  believe  it  will  be  found 
that  the  polish  has  worn  off  none  of  the  real  worth  of  the  metal. 

Taking  leave  of  her  Lincolnshire  Gaius,  Jeanie  resumed  her 
solitary  walk,  and  was  somewhat  alarmed  when  evening  and 
twilight  overtook  her  in  the  open  ground  which  extends  to  the 
foot  of  Gunnerby  Hill,  and  is  intersected  with  patches  of  copse 
and  with  swampy  spots.  The  extensive  commons  on  the  north 
road,  most  of  which  are  now  inclosed,  and  in  general  a  relaxed 
state  of  police,  exposed  the  traveller  to  a  highway  robbery 
in  a  degree  which  is  now  unknown,  excepting  in  the  immedi- 
ate vicinity  of  the  metropolis.  Aware  of  this  circumstance, 
Jeanie  mended  her  pace  when  she  heard  the  trampling  of  a 
horse  behind,  and  instinctively  drew  to  one  side  of  the  road, 
as  if  to  allow  as  much  room  for  the  rider  to  pass  as  might  be 
possible.  When  the  animal  came  up,  she  found  that  it  was 
bearing  two  women,  the  one  placed  on  a  side-saddle,  the  other 
on  a  pillion  behind  her,  as  may  still  occasionally  be  seen  in 
England. 

"  A  braw  gude  night  to  ye,  Jeanie  Deans, "  said  the  foremost 
female,  as  the  horse  passed  our  heroine.  "  What  think  ye  o? 
yon  bonny  hill  yonder,  lifting  its  brow  to  the  moon?  Trow 
ye  yon's  the  gate  to  Heaven,  that  ye  are  sae  fain  of?  Maybe 
we  may  win  there  the  night  yet,  God  sain  us,  though  our  min- 
nie  here's  rather  dreich  in  the  upgang." 

The  speaker  kept  changing  her  seat  in  the  saddle,  and  half- 
stopping  the  horse,  as  she  brought  her  body  round,  while  the 
woman  that  sate  behind  her  on  the  pillion  seemed  to  urge  her 
on,  in  words  which  Jeanie  heard  but  imperfectly. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


337 


"  Haud  your  tongue,  ye  moon-raised  b  !  what  is  your 

business  with  ,  or  with  Heaven  or  Hell  either?" 

"  Troth,  mither,  no  muckle  wi'  Heaven,  I  doubt,  consider- 
ing wha  I  carry  ahint  me ;  and  as  for  Hell,  it  will  fight  its 
ain  battle  at  its  ain  time,  I'se  be  bound.  Come,  naggie,  trot 
awa?,  man,  an  as  thou  wert  a  broomstick,  for  a  witch  rides 
thee: 

With  my  curch  on  my  foot,  and  my  shoe  on  my  hand, 

I  glance  like  the  wildfire  through  brugh  and  through  land/' 

The  tramp  of  the  horse,  and  the  increasing  distance, 
drowned  the  rest  of  her  song,  but  Jeanie  heard  for  some  time 
the  inarticulate  sounds  ring  along  the  waste. 

Our  pilgrim  remained  stupified  with  undefined  apprehen- 
sions. The  being  named  by  her  name  in  so  wild  a  manner, 
and  ill  a  strange  country,  without  further  explanation  or  com- 
muning, by  a  person  who  thus  strangely  flitted  forward  and 
disappeared  before  her,  came  near  to  the  supernatural  sounds 
in  Comus : 

The  airy  tongues,  which  syllable  men's  names 
On  sands,  and  shores,  and  desert  wildernesses. 

And  although  widely  different  in  features,  deportment,  and 
rank  from  the  Lady  of  that  enchanting  masque,  the  continu- 
ation of  the  passage  may  be  happily  applied  to  Jeanie  Deans 
upon  this  singular  alarm : 

These  thoughts  may  startle  well,  but  not  astound 
The  virtuous  mind,  that  ever  walks  attended 
By  a  strong  siding  champion — Conscience. 

In  fact,  it  was,  with  the  recollection  of  the  affectionate  and 
dutiful  errand  on  which  she  was  engaged,  her  right,  if  such  a 
word  could  be  applicable,  to  expect  protection  in  a  task  so 
meritorious.  She  had  not  advanced  much  farther,  with  a 
mind  calmed  by  these  reflections,  when  she  was  disturbed  by 
a  new  and  more  instant  subject  of  terror.  Two  men,  who  had 
been  lurking  among  some  copse,  started  up  as  she  r,dvanced, 
and  met  her  on  the  road  in  a  menacing  manner.  "  Stand  and 
deliver,"  said  one  of  them,  a  short  stout  fellow,  in  a  smock- 
frock,  such  as  are  worn  by  waggoners. 
22 


338 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  The  woman, "  said  the  other,  a  tall  thin  figure,  "  does  not 
understand  the  words  of  action.  Your  money,  my  precious, 
or  your  life!" 

"  I  have  but  very  little  money,  gentlemen, 99  said  poor  Jeanie, 
tendering  that  portion  which  she  had  separated  from  her  prin- 
cipal stock,  and  kept  apart  for  such  an  emergency ;  "  but  if 
you  are  resolved  to  have  it,  to  be  sure  you  must  have  it." 

"This  won't  do,  my  girl.  D — n  me,  if  it  shall  pass!"  said 
the  shorter  ruffian ;  "  do  ye  think  gentlemen  are  to  hazard  their 
lives  on  the  road  to  be  cheated  in  this  way?  We'll  have  every 
farthing  you  have  got,  or  we  will  strip  you  to  the  skin,  curse 
me." 

His  companion,  who  seemed  to  have  something  like  compas- 
sion for  the  horror  which  Jeanie' s  countenance  now  expressed, 
said :  "  No,  no,  Tom,  this  is  one  of  the  precious  sisters,  and 
we'll  take  her  word,  for  once,  without  putting  her  to  the 
stripping  proof.  Hark  ye,  my  lass,  if  you'll  look  up  to  heav- 
en and  say  this  is  the  last  penny  you  have  about  ye,  why,  hang 
it,  we'll  let  you  pass." 

"I  am  not  free,"  answered  Jeanie,  "to  say  what  I  have 
about  me,  gentlemen,  for  there's  life  and  death  depends  on 
my  journey ;  but  if  you  leave  me  as  much  as  finds  me  in  bread 
and  water,  I'll  be  satisfied,  and  thank  you,  and  pray  for  you." 

"D — n  your  prayers!"  said  the  shorter  fellow;  "that's  a 
coin  that  won't  pass  with  us" ;  and  at  the  same  time  made  a 
motion  to  seize  her. 

"Stay,  gentlemen,"  Ratcliffe's  pass  suddenly  occurring  to 
her;  "perhaps  you  know  this  paper." 

"What  the  devil  is  she  after  now,  Frank?"  said  the  more 
savage  ruffian.  "  Do  you  look  at  it,  for  d — n  me  if  I  could 
read  it,  if  it  were  for  the  benefit  of  my  clergy." 

"This  is  a  jark  from  Jim  Ratcliffe,"  said  the  taller,  having 
looked  at  the  bit  of  paper.  "  The  wench  must  pass  by  our 
cutter's  law." 

"  I  say  no, "  answered  his  companion.  "  Eat  has  left  the  lay, 
and  turned  bloodhound,  they  say." 

"  We  may  need  a  good  turn  from  him  all  the  same, "  said 
the  taller  ruffian  again. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


339 


"But  what  are  we  to  do  then?"  said  the  shorter  man. 
"  We  promised,  you  know,  to  strip  the  wench  and  send  her 
begging  back  to  her  own  beggarly  country,  and  now  you  are 
for  letting  her  go  on." 

"  I  did  not  say  that, "  said  the  other  fellow,  and  whispered 
to  his  companion,  who  replied :  "  Be  alive  about  it  then,  and 
don't  keep  chattering  till  some  travellers  come  up  to  nab  us." 

"  You  must  follow  us  off  the  road,  young  woman,"  said  the 
taller. 

"For  the  love  of  God!"  exclaimed  Jeanie,  "as  you  were 
born  of  woman,  dinna  ask  me  to  leave  the  road!  rather  take 
all  I  have  in  the  world." 

"  What  the  devil  is  the  wench  afraid  of?"  said  the  other 
fellow.  "  I  tell  you  you  shall  come  to  no  harm ;  but  if  you 
will  not  leave  the  road  and  come  with  us,  d — n  me,  but  I'll 
beat  your  brains  out  where  you  stand." 

"Thou  art  a  rough  bear,  Tom,"  said  his  companion.  "An 
ye  touch  her,  I'll  give  ye  a  shake  by  the  collar  shall  make  the 
Leicester  beans  rattle  in  thy  guts.  Never  mind  him,  girl ;  I 
will  not  allow  him  to  lay  a  finger  on  you,  if  you  walk  quietly 
on  with  us;  but  if  you  keep  jabbering  there,  d — n  me,  but  I'll 
leave  him  to  settle  it  with  you." 

This  threat  conveyed  all  that  is  terrible  to  the  imagination 
of  poor  Jeanie,  who  saw  in  him  that  "  was  of  milder  mood"  her 
only  protection  from  the  most  brutal  treatment.  She,  there- 
fore, not  only  followed  him,  but  even  held  him  by  the  sleeve, 
lest  he  should  escape  from  her ;  and  the  fellow,  hardened  as 
he  was,  seemed  something  touched  by  these  marks  of  confi- 
dence, and  repeatedly  assured  her  that  he  would  suffer  her  to 
receive  no  harm. 

They  conducted  their  prisoner  in  a  direction  leading  more 
and  more  from  the  public  road,  but  she  observed  that  they 
kept  a  sort  of  track  or  bye-path,  which  relieved  her  from  part 
of  her  apprehensions,  which  would  have  been  greatly  increased 
had  they  not  seemed  to  follow  a  determined  and  ascertained 
route.  After  about  half  an  hour's  walking,  all  three  in  pro- 
found silence,  they  approached  an  old  barn,  which  stood  on 
the  edge  of  some  cultivated  ground,  but  remote  from  every- 


340 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


thing  like  a  habitation.  It  was  itself,  however,  tenanted,  for 
there  was  light  in  the  windows. 

One  of  the  footpads  scratched  at  the  door,  which  was  opened 
by  a  female,  and  they  entered  with  their  unhappy  prisoner. 
An  old  woman,  who  was  preparing  food  by  the  assistance  of 
a  stifling  fire  of  lighted  charcoal,  asked  them,  in  the  name  of 
the  devil,  what  they  brought  the  wench  there  for,  and  why 
they  did  not  strip  her  and  turn  her  abroad  on  the  common. 

"Come,  come,  Mother  Blood,"  said  the  tall  man,  "we'll  do 
what's  right  to  oblige  you,  and  we'll  do  no  more;  we  are  bad 
enough,  but  not  such  as  you  would  make  us — devils  incar- 
nate. " 

"  She  has  got  a  jark  from  Jim  Batcliffe,"  said  the  short  fel- 
low, "  and  Frank  here  won't  hear  of  our  putting  her  through 
the  mill." 

"No,  that  will  I  not,  by  G — d!"  answered  Frank;  "but  if 
old  Mother  Blood  could  keep  her  here  for  a  little  while,  or 
send  her  back  to  Scotland,  without  hurting  her,  why,  I  see  no 
harm  in  that,  not  I." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Frank  Levitt,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  if 
you  call  me  Mother  Blood  again,  I'll  paint  this  gulley  (and  she 
held  a  knife  up  as  if  about  to  make  good  her  threat)  in  the 
best  blood  in  your  body,  my  bonny  boy." 

"  The  price  of  ointment  must  be  up  in  the  north, "  said 
Frank,  "  that  puts  Mother  Blood  so  much  out  of  humour. " 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  the  fury  darted  her  knife  at 
him  with  the  vengeful  dexterity  of  a  wild  Indian.  As  he  was 
on  his  guard,  he  avoided  the  missile  by  a  sudden  motion  of 
his  head,  but  it  whistled  past  his  ear  and  stuck  deep  in  the 
clay  wall  of  a  partition  behind. 

"  Come,  come,  mother,"  said  the  robber,  seizing  her  by  both 
wrists,  "I  shall  teach  you  who's  master" ;  and  so  saying,  he 
forced  the  hag  backwards  by  main  force,  who  strove  vehement- 
ly until  she  sunk  on  a  bunch  of  straw,  and  then  letting  go  her 
hands,  he  held  up  his  finger  towards  her  in  the  menacing  pos- 
ture by  which  a  maniac  is  intimidated  by  his  keeper.  It  ap- 
peared to  produce  the  desired  effect ;  for  she  did  not  attempt 
to  rise  from  the  seat  on  which  he  had  placed  her,  or  to  resume 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


341 


any  measures  of  actual  violence,  but  wrung  her  withered  hands 
with  impotent  rage,  and  brayed  and  howled  like  a  demoniac. 

"I  will  keep  my  promise  with  you,  you  old  devil,"  said 
Frank;  "the  wench  shall  not  go  forward  on  the  London  road, 
but  I  will  not  have  you  touch  a  hair  of  her  head,  if  it  were 
but  for  your  insolence." 

This  intimation  seemed  to  compose  in  some  degree  the 
vehement  passion  of  the  old  hag ;  and  while  her  exclamations 
and  howls  sunk  into  a  low,  maundering,  growling  tone  of  voice, 
another  personage  was  added  to  this  singular  party. 

"  Eh,  Frank  Levitt, "  said  this  new-comer,  who  entered  with 
a  hop,  step,  and  jump,  which  at  once  conveyed  her  from  the 
door  into  the  centre  of  the  party,  "  were  ye  killing  our  mother? 
or  were  ye  cutting  the  grunter's  weasandthat  Tarn  brought  in 
this  morning?  or  have  ye  been  reading  your  prayers  backward, 
to  bring  up  my  auld  acquaintance  the  deil  amang  ye?" 

The  tone  of  the  speaker  was  so  particular  that  Jeanie  im- 
mediately recognised  the  woman  who  had  rode  foremost  of  the 
pair  which  passed  her  just  before  she  met  the  robbers ;  a  cir- 
cumstance which  greatly  increased  her  terror,  as  it  served  to 
show  that  the  mischief  designed  against  her  was  premeditated, 
though  by  whom,  or  for  what  cause,  she  was  totally  at  a  loss 
to  conjecture.  From  the  style  of  her  conversation,  the  reader 
also  may  probably  acknowledge  in  this  female  an  old  acquaint- 
ance in  the  earlier  part  of  our  narrative. 

"Out,  ye  mad  devil!"  said  Tom,  whom  she  had  disturbed 
in  the  middle  of  a  draught  of  some  liquor  with  which  he  had 
found  means  of  accommodating  himself ;  "  betwixt  your  Bess 
of  Bedlam  pranks  and  your  dam's  frenzies  a  man  might  live 
quieter  in  the  devil's  den  than  here."  And  he  again  resumed 
the  broken  jug  out  of  which  he  had  been  drinking. 

"And  what's  this  o't?"  said  the  madwoman,  dancing  up  to 
Jeanie  Deans,  who,  although  in  great  terror,  yet  watched  the 
scene  with  a  resolution  to  let  nothing  pass  unnoticed  which 
might  be  serviceable  in  assisting  her  to  escape,  or  informing 
her  as  to  the  true  nature  of  her  situation,  and  the  danger  at- 
tending it.  "What's  this  o't?"  again  exclaimed  Madge 
Wildfire.    "  Douce  Davie  Deans,  the  auld  doited  Whig  body's 


342 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


daughter  in  a  gipsy's  barn,  and  the  night  setting  in;  this  is  a 
sight  for  sair  een!  Eh,  sirs,  the  falling  off  o'  the  godly! 
And  the  t'other  sister's  in  the  tolbooth  at  Edinburgh!  I  am 
very  sorry  for  her,  for  my  share;  it's  my  mother  wusses  ill  to 
her,  and  no  me,  though  maybe  I  hae  as  muckle  cause." 

"  Hark  ye,  Madge, "  said  the  taller  ruffian,  "  you  have  not 
such  a  touch  of  the  devil's  blood  as  the  hag,  your  mother,  who 
may  be  his  dam  for  what  I  know ;  take  this  young  woman  to 
your  kennel,  and  do  not  let  the  devil  enter,  though  he  should 
ask  in  God's  name." 

"Ou  ay,  that  I  will,  Frank,"  said  Madge,  taking  hold  of 
Jeanie  by  the  arm,  and  pulling  her  along;  "for  it's  no  for 
decent  Christian  young  leddies,  like  her  and  me,  to  be  keeping 
the  like  o'  you  and  Tyburn  Tarn  company  at  this  time  o'  night. 
Sae  gude  e'en  t'ye,  sirs,  and  mony  o'  them;  and  may  ye  a' 
sleep  till  the  hangman  wauken  ye,  and  then  it  will  be  weel 
for  the  country." 

She  then,  as  her  wild  fancy  seemed  suddenly  to  prompt  her, 
walked  demurely  towards  her  mother,  who,  seated  by  the 
charcoal  fire,  with  the  reflection  of  the  red  light  on  her  with- 
ered and  distorted  features,  marked  by  every  evil  passion, 
seemed  the  very  picture  of  Hecate  at  her  infernal  rites ;  and 
suddenly  dropping  on  her  knees,  said,  with  the  manner  of  a 
six  years  old  child :  "  Mammie,  hear  me  say  my  prayers  before 
I  go  to  bed,  and  say  God  bless  my  bonny  face,  as  ye  used  to  do 
lang  syne." 

"  The  deil  flay  the  hide  o'  it  to  sole  his  brogues  wi' !"  said 
the  old  lady,  aiming  a  buffet  at  the  supplicant  in  answer  to 
her  duteous  request. 

The  blow  missed  Madge,  who,  being  probably  acquainted 
by  experience  with  the  mode  in  which  her  mother  was  wont 
to  confer  her  maternal  benedictions,  slipt  out  of  arm's  length 
with  great  dexterity  and  quickness.  The  hag  then  started  up, 
and,  seizing  a  pair  of  old  fire-tongs,  would  have  amended  her 
motion  by  beating  out  the  brains  either  of  her  daughter  or 
Jeanie,  she  did  not  seem  greatly  to  care  which,  when  her  hand 
was  once  more  arrested  by  the  man  whom  they  called  Erank 
Levitt,  who,  seizing  her  by  the  shoulder,  flung  her  from  him 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


343 


with  great  violence,  exclaiming:  "What,  Mother  Damnable, 
again,  and  in  my  sovereign  presence?  Hark  ye,  Madge  of 
Bedlam,  get  to  your  hole  with  your  playfellow,  or  we  shall 
have  the  devil  to  pay  here,  and  nothing  to  pay  him  with. " 

Madge  took  Levitt's  advice,  retreating  as  fast  as  she  could, 
and  dragging  Jeanie  along  with  her,  into  a  sort  of  recess,  par- 
titioned off  from  the  rest  of  the  barn,  and  filled  with  straw, 
from  which  it  appeared  that  it  was  intended  for  the  purpose 
of  slumber.  The  moonlight  shone  through  an  open  hole  upon 
a  pillion,  a  pack-saddle,  and  one  or  two  wallets,  the  travelling 
furniture  of  Madge  and  her  amiable  mother.  "  Now,  saw  ye 
e'er  in  your  life,"  said  Madge,  "  sae  dainty  a  chamber  of  deas? 
See  as  the  moon  shines  down  sae  caller  on  the  fresh  strae! 
There's  no  a  pleasanter  cell  in  Bedlam,  for  as  braw  a  place  as 
it  is  on  the  outside.    Were  ye  ever  in  Bedlam?" 

"No,"  answered  Jeanie  faintly,  appalled  by  the  question 
and  the  way  in  which  it  was  put,  yet  willing  to  soothe  her  in- 
sane companion ;  being  in  circumstances  so  unhappily  preca- 
rious that  even  the  society  of  this  gibbering  madwoman  seemed 
a  species  of  protection. 

"Never  in  Bedlam!"  said  Madge,  as  if  with  some  surprise. 
"But  ye'll  hae  been  in  the  cells  at  Edinburgh?" 

"Never,"  repeated  Jeanie. 

"  Weel,  I  think  thae  daft  carles  the  magistrates  send  nae- 
body  to  Bedlam  but  me ;  they  maun  hae  an  unco  respect  for 
me,  for  whenever  I  am  brought  to  them  they  aye  hae  me  back 
to  Bedlam.  But  troth,  Jeanie  (she  said  this  in  a  very  confi- 
dential tone),  to  tell  ye  my  private  mind  about  it,  I  think  ye 
are  at  nae  great  loss;  for  the  keeper's  a  cross  patch,  and  he 
maun  hae  it  a'  his  ain  gate,  to  be  sure,  or  he  makes  the  place 
waur  than  hell.  I  often  tell  him  he's  the  daftest  in  a'  the 
house.  But  what  are  they  making  sic  a  skirling  for?  Deil 
ane  o'  them's  get  in  here;  it  wadna  by  mensefu' !  I  will  sit 
wi'  my  back  again  the  door;  it  winnabe  that  easy  stirring  me." 

"Madge!"— "Madge!"— "Madge  Wildfire!"— " Madge  dev- 
il! what  have  ye  done  with  the  horse?"  was  repeatedly  asked 
by  the  men  without. 

"He's  e'en  at  his  supper,  puir  thing,"  answered  Madge; 


344 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  deil  an  ye  were  at  yours  too,  an  it  were  scauding  brimstane, 
and  then  we  wad  hae  less  o'  your  din." 

"His  supper!"  answered  the  more  sulky  ruffian.  "What 
d'ye  mean  by  that?  Tell  me  where  he  is,  or  I  will  knock 
your  Bedlam  brains  out!" 

"He's  in  Gaffer  Gabblewood's  wheat-close,  an  ye  maun 
ken." 

"His  wheat-close,  you  crazed  jilt!"  answered  the  other, 
with  an  accent  of  great  indignation. 

"  Oh,  dear  Tyburn  Tain,  man,  what  ill  will  the  blades  of  the 
young  wheat  do  to  the  puir  naig?" 

"That  is  not  the  question,"  said  the  other  robber;  "but 
what  the  country  will  say  to  us  to-morrow  when  they  see  him 
in  such  quarters.  Go,  Tom,  and  bring  him  in ;  and  avoid  the 
soft  ground,  my  lad ;  leave  no  hoof -track  behind  you. " 

"  I  think  you  give  me  always  the  fag  of  it,  whatever  is  to 
be  done,"  grumbled  his  companion. 

"'Leap,  Laurence,  you're  long  enough,'"  said  the  other; 
and  the  fellow  left  the  barn  accordingly,  without  farther  re- 
monstrance. 

In  the  mean  while,  Madge  had  arranged  herself  for  repose 
on  the  straw ;  but  still  in  a  half -sitting  posture,  with  her  back 
resting  against  the  door  of  the  hovel,  which,  as  it  opened  in- 
wards, was  in  this  manner  kept  shut  by  the  weight  of  her 
person. 

"There's  mair  shifts  bye  stealing,  Jeanie,"  said  Madge 
Wildfire ;  "  though  whiles  I  can  hardly  get  our  mother  to 
think  sae.  Wha  wad  hae  thought  but  mysell  of  making  a 
bolt  of  my  ain  backbane?  But  it's  no  sae  strong  as  thae  that 
I  hae  seen  in  the  tolbooth  at  Edinburgh.  The  hammermen  of 
Edinburgh  are  to  my  mind  afore  the  world  for  making  stanch- 
ions, ring-bolts,  fetter-bolts,  bars,  and  locks.  And  they  arena 
that  bad  at  girdles  for  carcakes  neither,  though  the  Cu'ross 
hammermen  have  the  gree  for  that.  My  mother  had  ance  a 
bonny  Cu'ross  girdle,  and  I  thought  to  have  baked  carcakes 
on  it  for  my  puir  wean  that's  dead  and  gane  nae  fair  way; 
but  we  maun  a'  dee,  ye  ken,  Jeanie.  You  Cameronian  bodies 
ken  that  brawly;  and  ye' re  for  making  a  hell  upon  earth  that 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


345 


ye  may  be  less  unwillin'  to  part  wi'  it.  But  as  touching  Bed- 
lam, that  ye  were  speaking  about,  I'se  ne'er  recommend  it 
muckle  the  tae  gate  or  the  tother,  be  it  right,  be  it  wrang. 
But  ye  ken  what  the  sang  says?"  And,  pursuing  the  uncon- 
nected and  floating  wanderings  of  her  mind,  she  sung  aloud: 

"  In  the  bonny  cells  of  Bedlam, 

Ere  I  was  ane-and-twenty, 
I  had  hempen  bracelets  strong, 
And  merry  whips,  ding-dong, 

And  prayer  and  fasting  plenty. 

Weel,  Jeanie,  I  am  something  herse  the  night,  and  I  canna 
sing  muckle  mair;  and  troth,  I  think  I  am  gaun  to  sleep." 

She  drooped  her  head  on  her  breast,  a  posture  from  which 
Jeanie,  who  would  have  given  the  world  for  an  opportunity  of 
quiet  to  consider  the  means  and  the  probability  of  her  escape, 
was  very  careful  not  to  disturb  her.  After  nodding,  however, 
for  a  minute  or  two,  with  her  eyes  half  closed,  the  unquiet 
and  restless  spirit  of  her  malady  again  assailed  Madge.  She 
raised  her  head  and  spoke,  but  with  a  lowered  tone,  which 
was  again  gradually  overcome  by  drowsiness,  to  which  the 
fatigue  of  a  day's  journey  on  horseback  had  probably  given 
unwonted  occasion :  "  I  dinna  ken  what  makes  me  sae  sleepy ; 
I  amaist  never  sleep  till  my  bonny  Lady  Moon  gangs  till  her 
bed,  mair  by  token  when  she's  at  the  full,  ye  ken,  rowing 
aboon  us  yonder  in  her  grand  silver  coach.  I  have  danced  to 
her  my  lane  sometimes  for  very  joy,  and  whiles  dead  folk 
came  and  danced  wi'  me,  the  like  o'  Jock  Porteous,  or  ony- 
body  I  had  kenn'd  when  I  was  living;  for  ye  maun  ken  I  was 
ance  dead  mysell. "  Here  the  poor  maniac  sung  in  a  low  and 
wild  tone : 

"  My  banes  are  buried  in  yon  kirkyard 
Sae  far  ayont  the  sea, 
And  it  is  but  my  blithesome  ghaist 
That's  speaking  now  to  thee. 

But,  after  a',  Jeanie,  my  woman,  naebody  kens  weel  wha's 
living  and  wha's  dead, — or  wha's  gane  to  Fairyland,  there's 
another  question.  Whiles  I  think  my  puir  bairn's  dead;  ye 
ken  very  weel  it's  buried,  but  that  signifies  naething.    I  have 


346 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


had  it  on  my  knee  a  hundred  times,  and  a  hundred  till  that, 
since  it  was  buried;  and  how  could  that  be  were  it  dead,  ye 
ken?  It's  merely  impossible."  And  here,  some  conviction 
half-overcoming  the  reveries  of  her  imagination,  she  burst  into 
a  fit  of  crying  and  ejaculation:  "  Wae's  me!  wae's  me!  wae's 
me!"  till  at  length  she  moaned  and  sobbed  herself  into  a  deep 
sleep,  which  was  soon  intimated  by  her  breathing  hard,  leav- 
ing J eanie  to  her  own  melancholy  reflections  and  observations. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Bind  her  quickly  ;  or,  by  this  steel, 
I'll  tell,  although  I  truss  for  company. 

Fletcher. 

The  imperfect  light  which  shone  into  the  window  enabled 
Jeanie  to  see  that  there  was  scarcely  any  chance  of  making 
her  escape  in  that  direction;  for  the  aperture  was  high  in 
the  wall,  and  so  narrow  that,  could  she  have  climbed  up  to  it, 
she  might  well  doubt  whether  it  would  have  permitted  her  to 
pass  her  body  through  it.  An  unsuccessful  attempt  to  escape 
would  be  sure  to  draw  down  worse  treatment  than  she  now 
received,  and  she  therefore  resolved  to  watch  her  opportunity 
carefully  ere  making  such  a  perilous  effort.  For  this  purpose 
she  applied  herself  to  the  ruinous  clay  partition  which  divided 
the  hovel  in  which  she  now  was  from  the  rest  of  the  waste 
barn.  It  was  decayed,  and  full  of  cracks  and  chinks,  one  of 
which  she  enlarged  with  her  fingers,  cautiously  and  without 
noise,  until  she  could  obtain  a  plain  view  of  the  old  hag  and 
the  taller  ruffian,  whom  they  called  Levitt,  seated  together  be- 
side the  decayed  fire  of  charcoal,  and  apparently  engaged  in 
close  conference.  She  was  at  first  terrified  by  the  sight,  for 
the  features  of  the  old  woman  had  a  hideous  cast  of  hardened 
and  inveterate  malice  and  ill-humour,  and  those  of  the  man, 
though  naturally  less  unfavourable,  were  such  as  corresponded 
well  with  licentious  habits  and  a  lawless  profession. 

"But  I  remembered,"  said  Jeanie,  "my  worthy  father's 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


347 


tales  of  a  winter  evening,  how  lie  was  confined  with  the 
blessed  martyr,  Mr.  James  Eenwick,  who  lifted  up  the  fallen 
standard  of  the  true  reformed  Kirk  of  Scotland,  after  the 
worthy  and  renowned  Daniel  [Kichard]  Cameron,  our  last 
blessed  bannerman,  had  fallen  among  the  swords  of  the  wicked 
at  Aird's  Moss,  and  how  the  very  hearts  of  the  wicked  male- 
factors and  murderers  whom  they  were  confined  withal  were 
melted  like  wax  at  the  sound  of  their  doctrine,  and  I  be- 
thought mysell,  that  the  same  help  that  was  wi'  them  in  their 
strait,  wad  be  wi'  me  in  mine,  as  I  could  but  watch  the  Lord's 
time  and  opportunity  for  delivering  my  feet  from  their  snare ; 
and  I  minded  the  Scripture  of  the  blessed  Psalmist,  whilk  he 
insfsteth  on,  as  weel  in  the  forty-second  as  in  the  forty-third 
psalm:  'Why  art  thou  cast  down,  0  my  soul,  and  why  art 
thou  disquieted  within  me?  Hope  in  God,  for  I  shall  yet 
praise  him,  who  is  the  health  of  my  countenance,  and  my 
God.'" 

Strengthened  in  a  mind  naturally  calm,  sedate,  and  firm,  by 
the  influence  of  religious  confidence,  this  poor  captive  was 
enabled  to  attend  to,  and  comprehend,  a  great  part  of  an  in- 
teresting conversation  which  passed  betwixt  those  into  whose 
hands  she  had  fallen,  notwithstanding  that  their  meaning  was 
partly  disguised  by  the  occasional  use  of  cant  terms,  of  which 
Jeanie  knew  not  the  import,  by  the  low  tone  in  which  they 
spoke,  and  by  their  mode  of  supplying  their  broken  phrases 
by  shrugs  and  signs,  as  is  usual  amongst  those  of  their  disor- 
derly profession. 

The  man  opened  the  conversation  by  saying :  "  Now,  dame, 
you  see  I  am  true  to  my  friend.  I  have  not  forgot  that  you 
planked  a  chury  which  helped  me  through  the  bars  of  the 
Castle  of  York,  and  I  came  to  do  your  work  without  asking 
questions,  for  one  good  turn  deserves  another.  But  now  that 
Madge,  who  is  as  loud  as  Tom  of  Lincoln,  is  somewhat  still, 
and  this  same  Tyburn  Neddie  is  shaking  his  heels  after  the 
old  nag,  why,  you  must  tell  me  what  all  this  is  about,  and 
what's  to  be  done;  for  d — n  me  if  I  touch  the  girl,  or  let  her 
be  touched,  and  she  with  Jim  Rat's  pass  too." 

"  Thou  art  an  honest  lad,  Frank, "  answered  the  old  woman, 


348 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"but  e'en  too  kind  for  thy  trade;  thy  tender  heart  will  get 
thee  into  trouble.  I  will  see  ye  gang  up  Holborn  Hill  back- 
ward, and  a'  on  the  word  of  some  silly  loon  that  could  never 
hae  rapped  to  ye  had  ye  drawn  your  knife  across  his  weasand." 

"  You  may  be  baulked  there,  old  one, "  answered  the  robber ; 
"  I  have  known  many  a  pretty  lad  cut  short  in  his  first  sum- 
mer upon  the  road,  because  he  was  something  hasty  with  his 
flats  and  sharps.  Besides,  a  man  would  fain  live  out  his 
two  years  with  a  good  conscience.  So,  tell  me  what  all  this 
is  about,  and  what's  to  be  done  for  you  that  one  can  do  de- 
cently?" 

"  Why,  you  must  know,  Frank — but  first  taste  a  snap  of 
right  Hollands."  She  drew  a  flask  from  her  pocket,  and  filled 
the  fellow  a  large  bumper,  which  he  pronounced  to  be  the  right 
thing.  "  You  must  know,  then,  Frank — wunna  ye  mend  your 
hand?"  again  offering  the  flask. 

"No,  no;  when  a  woman  wants  mischief  from  you,  she 
always  begins  by  filling  you  drunk.  D — n  all  Dutch  courage. 
What  I  do  I  will  do  soberly.    I'll  last  the  longer  for  that  too." 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  know,"  resumed  the  old  woman, 
without  any  farther  attempts  at  propitiation,  "  that  this  girl 
is  going  to  London." 

Here  Jeanie  could  only  distinguish  the  word  "  sister. " 

The  robber  answered  in  a  louder  tone :  "  Fair  enough  that ; 
and  what  the  devil  is  your  business  with  it?" 

"  Business  enough,  I  think.    If  the  b  queers  the  noose, 

that  silly  cull  will  marry  her." 

"And  who  cares  if  he  does?"  said  the  man. 

"Who  cares,  ye  donnard  Neddie?  I  care;  and  I  will 
strangle  her  with  my  own  hands  rather  than  she  should  come 
to  Madge's  preferment." 

"Madge's  preferment!  Does  your  old  blind  eyes  see  no 
farther  than  that?  If  he  is  as  you  say,  d'ye  think  he'll  ever 
marry  a  moon-calf  like  Madge?  Ecod,  that's  a  good  one. 
Marry  Madge  Wildfire !  ha!  ha!  ha!" 

"Hark  ye,  ye  crack-rope  padder,  born  beggar,  and  bred 
thief!"  replied  the  hag;  "suppose  he  never  marries  the 
wench,  is  that  a  reason  he  shonld  marry  another,  and  that 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


349 


other  to  hold  my  daughter's  place,  and  she  crazed,  and  I  a 
beggar,  and  all  along  of  him?  But  I  know  that  of  him  will 
hang  him — I  know  that  of  him  will  hang  him,  if  he  had  a 
thousand  lives — I  know  that  of  him  will  hang — hang — hang 
him!" 

She  grinned  as  she  repeated  and  dwelt  upon  the  fatal  mono- 
syllable with  the  emphasis  of  a  vindictive  fiend. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  hang — hang — hang  him?"  said 
Frank,  repeating  her  words  contemptuously.  "  There  would 
be  more  sense  in  that,  than  in  wreaking  yourself  here  upon 
two  wenches  that  have  done  you  and  your  daughter  no  ill." 

"No  ill!"  answered  the  old  woman;  "  and  he  to  marry  this 
jail-bird,  if  ever  she  gets  her  foot  loose!" 

"  But  as  there  is  no  chance  of  his  marrying  a  bird  of  your 
brood,  I  cannot,  for  my  soul,  see  what  you  have  to  do  with 
all  this,"  again  replied  the  robber,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"  Where  there  is  aught  to  be  got,  I'll  go  as  far  as  my  neigh- 
bours, but  I  hate  mischief  for  mischief's  sake." 

"  And  would  you  go  nae  length  for  revenge?"  said  the  hag — 
"  for  revenge,  the  sweetest  morsel  to  the  mouth  that  ever  was 
cooked  in  hell?" 

"The  devil  may  keep  it  for  his  own  eating,  then,"  said  the 
robber ;  "  for  hang  me  if  I  like  the  sauce  he  dresses  it  with. " 

"Revenge!"  continued  the  old  woman;  "why,  it  is  the 
best  reward  the  devil  gives  us  for  our  time  here  and  hereafter. 
I  have  wrought  hard  for  it,  I  have  suffered  for  it,  and  I  have 
sinned  for  it,  and  I  will  have  it — or  there  is  neither  justice  in 
Heaven  nor  in  Hell!" 

Levitt  had  by  this  time  lighted  a  pipe,  and  was  listening 
with  great  composure  to  the  frantic  and  vindictive  ravings  of 
the  old  hag.  He  was  too  much  hardened  by  his  course  of  life 
to  be  shocked  with  them;  too  indifferent,  and  probably  too 
stupid,  to  catch  any  part  of  their  animation  or  energy.  "  But, 
mother,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "still  I  say,  that  if  revenge 
is  your  wish,  you  should  take  it  on  the  young  fellow  himself. " 

"  I  wish  I  could, "  she  said,  drawing  in  her  breath,  with  the 
eagerness  of  a  thirsty  person  while  mimicking  the  action  of 
drinking — "I  wish  I  could!  but  no,  I  cannot — I  cannot." 


350 


WAVEKLEY  NOVELS. 


"And  why  not?  You  would  think  little  of  peaching  and 
hanging  him  for  this  Scotch  affair.  Rat  me,  one  might  have 
milled  the  Bank  of  England,  and  less  noise  about  it. " 

"I  have  nursed  him  at  this  withered  breast/'  answered  the 
old  woman,  folding  her  hands  on  her  bosom,  as  if  pressing  an 
infant  to  it,  "  and  though  he  has  proved  an  adder  to  me,  though 
he  has  been  the  destruction  of  me  and  mine,  though  he  has 
made  me  company  for  the  devil,  if  there  be  a  devil,  and  food 
for  hell,  if  there  be  such  a  place,  yet  I  cannot  take  his  life. 
No,  I  cannot, "  she  continued,  with  an  appearance  of  rage 
against  herself;  "  I  have  thought  of  it,  I  have  tried  it,  but, 
Francis  Levitt,  I  canna  gang  through  wi't!  Na,  na,  he  was 
the  first  bairn  I  ever  nurst ;  ill  I  had  been — but  man  can  never 
ken  what  woman  feels  for  the  bairn  she  has  held  first  to  her 
bosom !" 

u  To  be  sure,"  said  Levitt,  "we  have  no  experience.  But, 
mother,  they  say  you  ha' n't  been  so  kind  to  other  bairns ,  as 
you  call  them,  that  have  come  in  your  way.  Nay,  d — n  me, 
never  lay  your  hand  on  the  whittle,  for  I  am  captain  and 
leader  here,  and  I  will  have  no  rebellion." 

The  hag,  whose  first  motion  had  been,  upon  hearing  the 
question,  to  grasp  the  haft  of  a  large  knife,  now  unclosed  her 
hand,  stole  it  away  from  the  weapon,  and  suffered  it  to  fall  by 
her  side,  while  she  proceeded  with  a  sort  of  smile :  "  Bairns ! 
ye  are  joking,  lad,   wha  wad  touch  bairns?    Madge,  puir 

thing,  had  a  misfortune  wi'  ane ;  and  the  tother  "  Here 

her  voice  sunk  so  much  that  Jeanie,  though  anxiously  upon 
the  watch,  could  not  catch  a  word  she  said,  until  she  raised 
her  tone  at  the  conclusion  of  the  sentence :  "  So  Madge,  in 
her  damn',  threw  it  into  the  Nor'  Loch,  I  trow." 

Madge,  whose  slumbers,  like  those  of  most  who  labour  under 
mental  malady,  had  been  short,  and  were  easily  broken,  now 
made  herself  heard  from  her  place  of  repose. 

"Indeed,  mother,  that's  a  great  lee,  for  I  did  nae  sic  thing." 

"  Hush,  thou  hellicat  devil, "  said  her  mother.  "  By  Heav- 
en! the  other  wench  will  be  waking  too!" 

"  That  may  be  dangerous, "  said  Frank ;  and  he  rose  and 
followed  Meg  Murdockson  across  the  floor. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


351 


"  Rise, "  said  the  hag  to  her  daughter,  "  or  I  sail  drive  the 
knife  between  the  planks  into  the  Bedlam  back  of  thee!" 

Apparently  she  at  the  same  time  seconded  her  threat,  by 
pricking  her  with  the  point  of  a  knife,  for  Madge,  with  a 
faint  scream,  changed  her  place,  and  the  door  opened. 

The  old  woman  held  a  candle  in  one  hand  and  a  knife  in  the 
other.  Levitt  appeared  behind  her ;  whether  with  a  view  of 
preventing  or  assisting  her  in  any  violence  she  might  meditate 
could  not  be  well  guessed.  Jeanie's  presence  of  mind  stood  her 
friend  in  this  dreadful  crisis.  She  had  resolution  enough  to 
maintain  the  attitude  and  manner  of  one  who  sleeps  profoundly, 
and  to  regulate  even  her  breathing,  notwithstanding  the  agita- 
tion of  instant  terror,  so  as  to  correspond  with  her  attitude. 

The  old  woman  passed  the  light  across  her  eyes;  and, 
although  Jeanie's  fears  were  so  powerfully  awakened  by  this 
movement,  that  she  often  declared  afterwards  that  she  thought 
she  saw  the  figures  of  her  destined  murderers  through  her 
closed  eyelids,  she  had  still  the  resolution  to  maintain  the 
feint  on  which  her  safety  perhaps  depended. 

Levitt  looked  at  her  with  fixed  attention ;  he  then  turned 
the  old  woman  out  of  the  place,  and  followed  her  himself. 
Having  regained  the  outer  apartment,  and  seated  themselves, 
Jeanie  heard  the  highwayman  say,  to  her  no  small  relief: 
"  She's  as  fast  as  if  she  were  in  Bedfordshire.  Now,  old 
Meg,  d — n  me  if  I  can  understand  a  glim  of  this  story  of  yours, 
or  what  good  it  will  do  you  to  hang  the  one  wench  and  tor- 
ment the  other ;  but,  rat  me,  I  will  be  true  to  my  friend,  and 
serve  ye  the  way  ye  like  it.  I  see  it  will  be  a  bad  job;  but  I 
do  think  I  could  get  her  down  to  Surfleet  on  the  Wash,  and  so 
on  board  Tom  Moonshine's  neat  lugger,  and  keep  her  out  of 
the  way  three  or  four  weeks,  if  that  will  please  ye.  But  d — n 
me  if  any  one  shall  harm  her,  unless  they  have  a  mind  to  choke 
on  a  brace  of  blue  plums.  It's  a  cruel  bad  job,  and  I  wish 
you  and  it,  Meg,  were  both  at  the  devil. " 

"Never  mind,  hinny  Levitt,"  said  the  old  woman;  "you 
are  a  rumer,  and  will  have  a'  your  ain  gate.  She  shanna  gang 
to  Heaven  an  hour  sooner  for  me ;  I  carena  whether  she  live 
or  die:  it's  her  sister — ay,  her  sister!" 


352 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  Well,  we'll  say  no  more  about  it,  I  hear  Tom  coming  in. 
We'll  couch  a  hogshead,  and  so  better  had  you." 

They  retired  to  repose,  accordingly,  and  all  was  silent  in 
this  asylum  of  iniquity. 

Jeanie  lay  for  a  long  time  awake.  At  break  of  day  she 
heard  the  two  ruffians  leave  the  barn,  after  whispering  with 
the  old  woman  for  some  time.  The  sense  that  she  was  now 
guarded  only  by  persons  of  her  own  sex  gave  her  some  con- 
fidence, and  irresistible  lassitude  at  length  threw  her  into 
slumber. 

When  the  captive  awakened,  the  sun  was  high  in  heaven, 
and  the  morning  considerably  advanced.  Madge  Wildfire  was 
still  in  the  hovel  which  had  served  them  for  the  night,  and 
immediately  bid  her  good  morning,  with  her  usual  air  of  in- 
sane glee.  "And  d'ye  ken,  lass,"  said  Madge,  "there's  queer 
things  chanced  since  ye  hae  been  in  the  land  of  Nod.  The 
constables  hae  been  here,  woman,  and  they  met  wi'  my  minnie 
at  the  door,  and  they  whirl' d  her  awa'  to  the  Justice's  about 
the  man's  wheat.  Dear!  thae  English  churls  think  as  muckle 
about  a  blade  of  wheat  or  grass  as  a  Scots  laird  does  about  his 
maukins  and  his  muir-poots.  Now,  lass,  if  ye  like,  we'll 
play  them  a  fine  jink :  we  will  awa'  out  and  take  a  walk ;  they 
will  make  unco  wark  when  they  miss  us,  but  we  can  easily  be 
back  by  dinner  time,  or  before  dark  night  at  ony  rate,  and  it 
will  be  some  frolic  and  fresh  air.  But  maybe  ye  wad  like  to 
take  some  breakfast,  and  then  lie  down  again?  I  ken  by  my- 
sell,  there's  whiles  I  can  sit  wi'  my  head  on  my  hand  the  haill 
day,  and  havena  a  word  to  cast  at  a  dog,  and  other  whiles  that 
I  canna  sit  still  a  moment.  That's  when  the  folk  think  me 
warst;  but  I  am  aye  canny  eneugh — ye  needna  be  feared  to 
walk  wi'  me." 

Had  Madge  Wildfire  been  the  most  raging  lunatic,  instead 
of  possessing  a  doubtful,  uncertain,  and  twilight  sort  of  ration- 
ality, varying,  probably,  from  the  influence  of  the  most  trivial 
causes,  Jeanie  would  hardly  have  objected  to  leave  a  place  of 
captivity  where  she  had  so  much  to  apprehend.  She  eagerly 
assured  Madge  that  she  had  no  occasion  for  farther  sleep,  no 
desire  whatever  for  eating  5  and  hoping  internally  that  she 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


353 


was  not  guilty  of  sin  in  doing  so,  she  nattered  her  keeper's 
crazy  humour  for  walking  in  the  woods. 

"It's  no  a'thegither  for  that,  neither/'  said  poor  Madge; 
"  but  I  am  judging  ye  will  wun  the  better  out  o'  thae  folks' 
hands;  no  that  they  are  a'thegither  bad  folk  neither,  but 
they  have  queer  ways  wi'  them,  and  I  whiles  dinna  think  it 
has  been  ever  very  weel  wi'  my  mother  and  me  since  we  kept 
sic-like  company." 

With  the  haste,  the  joy,  the  fear,  and  the  hope  of  a  liber- 
ated captive,  Jeanie  snatched  up  her  little  bundle,  followed 
Madge  into  the  free  air,  and  eagerly  looked  round  her  for  a 
human  habitation ;  but  none  was  to  be  seen.  The  ground  was 
partly  cultivated,  and  partly  left  in  its  natural  state,  according 
as  the  fancy  of  the  slovenly  agriculturists  had  decided.  In  its 
natural  state  it  was  waste,  in  some  places  covered  with  dwarf 
trees  and  bushes,  in  others  swamp,  and  elsewhere  firm  and  dry 
downs  or  pasture-grounds. 

Jeanie's  active  mind  next  led  her  to  conjecture  which  way 
the  highroad  lay,  whence  she  had  been  forced.  If  she  regained 
that  public  road,  she  imagined  she  must  soon  meet  some  per- 
son, or  arrive  at  some  house,  were  she  might  tell  her  story, 
and  request  protection.  But  after  a  glance  around  her,  she 
saw  with  regret  that  she  had  no  means  whatever  of  directing 
her  course  with  any  degree  of  certainty,  and  that  she  was  still 
in  dependence  upon  her  crazy  companion.  "  Shall  we  not 
walk  upon  the  highroad?"  said  she  to  Madge,  in  such  a  tone 
as  a  nurse  uses  to  coax  a  child.  "  It's  brawer  walking  on  the 
road  than  amang  thae  wild  bushes  and  whins." 

Madge,  who  was  walking  very  fast,  stopped  at  this  ques- 
tion, and  looked  at  Jeanie  with  a  sudden  and  scrutinising 
glance,  that  seemed  to  indicate  complete  acquaintance  with  her 
purpose.  "Aha,  lass!"  she  exclaimed,  "  are  ye  gaun  to  guide 
us  that  gate?  Ye'll  be  for  making  your  heels  save  your  head, 
I  am  judging." 

Jeanie  hesitated  for  a  moment,  on  hearing  her  companion 
thus  express  herself,  whether  she  had  not  better  take  the  hint, 
and  try  to  outstrip  and  get  rid  of  her.    But  she  knew  not  in 
which  direction  to  fly ;  she  was  by  no  means  sure  that  she 
23 


354 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


would  prove  the  swiftest,  and  perfectly  conscious  that,  in  the 
event  of  her  being  pursued  and  overtaken,  she  would  be  infe- 
rior to  the  madwoman  in  strength.  She  therefore  gave  up 
thoughts  for  the  present  of  attempting  to  escape  in  that  man- 
ner, and,  saying  a  few  words  to  allay  Madge's  suspicions,  she 
followed  in  anxious  apprehension  the  wayward  path  by  which 
her  guide  thought  proper  to  lead  her.  Madge,  infirm  of  pur- 
pose, and  easily  reconciled  to  the  present  scene,  whatever  it 
was,  began  soon  to  talk  with  her  usual  diffuseness  of  ideas. 

"It's  a  dainty  thing  to  be  in  the  woods  on  a  fine  morning 
like  this.    I  like  it  far  better  than  the  town,  for  there  isna 
wheen  duddy  bairns  to  be  crying  after  ane,  as  if  ane  were 
Avarld's  wonder,  just  because  ane  maybe  is  a  thought  bonnier 
and  better  put- on  than  their  neighbours ;  though,  Jeanie,  ye 
suld  never  be  proud  o'  braw  claiths,  or  beauty  neither ;  wae' 
me!  they're  but  a  snare.    I  anes  thought  better  o'  them,  an 
what  came  o't?" 

"  Are  ye  sure  ye  ken  the  way  ye  are  taking  us?"  said  Jeanie 
who  began  to  imagine  that  she  was  getting  deeper  into  th 
woods,  and  more  remote  from  the  highroad. 

"  Do  I  ken  the  ro^d?    Wasna  I  mony  a  day  living  here, 
and  what  for  shouldna  I  ken  the  road?    I  might  hae  forgot 
ten,  too,  for  it  was  afore  my  [accident ;  but  there  are  some 
things  ane  can  never  forget,  let  them  try  it  as  muckle  as  they 
like." 

By  this  time  they  had  gained  the  deepest  part  of  a  patch  of 
woodland.  The  trees  were  a  little  separated  from  each  other, 
and  at  the  foot  of  one  of  them,  a  beautiful  poplar,  was  a  varie- 
gated hillock  of  wild  flowers  and  moss,  such  as  the  poet  of 
Grasmere  has  described  in  his  verses  on  "  The  Thorn. "  So 
soon  as  she  arrived  at  this  spot,  Madge  Wildfire,  joining  her 
hands  above  her  head,  with  a  loud  scream  that  resembled 
laughter,  flung  herself  all  at  once  upon  the  spot,  and  remained 
lying  there  motionless. 

Jeanie' s  first  idea  was  to  take  the  opportunity  of  flight;  but 
her  desire  to  escape  yielded  for  a  moment  to  apprehension  for 
the  poor  insane  being,  who,  she  thought,  might  perish  for  want 
of  relief.    With  an  effort,  which,  in  her  circumstances,  might 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


355 


be  termed  heroic,  she  stooped  down,  spoke  in  a  soothing  tone, 
and  endeavoured  to  raise  up  the  forlorn  creature.  She  effected 
this  with  difficulty,  and,  as  she  placed  her  against  the  tree  in 
a  sitting  posture,  she  observed  with  surprise  that  her  complex- 
ion, usually  florid,  was  now  deadly  pale,  and  that  her  face 
was  bathed  in  tears.  Notwithstanding  her  own  extreme  dan- 
ger, Jeanie  was  affected  by  the  situation  of  her  companion ; 
and  the  rather  that,  through  the  whole  train  of  her  wavering 
and  inconsistent  state  of  mind  and  line  of  conduct,  she  dis- 
cerned a  general  colour  of  kindness  towards  herself,  for  which 
she  felt  grateful. 

"  Let  me  alane ! — let  me  alane  \n  said  the  poor  young  woman, 
as  her  paroxysm  of  sorrow  began  to  abate.  "  Let  me  alane ; 
it  does  me  good  to  weep.  I  canna  shed  tears  but  maybe  anes 
or  twice  a  year,  and  I  aye  come  to  wet  this  turf  with  them, 
that  the  flowers  may  grow  fair,  and  the  grass  may  be  green. 99 

"  But  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  said  Jeanie.  "  Why 
do  you  weep  so  bitterly?" 

"There's  matter  enow,"  replied  the  lunatic;  "mair  than  ae 
puir  mind  can  bear,  I  trow.  Stay  a  bit,  and  I'll  tell  you  a' 
about  it;  for  I  like  ye,  Jeanie  Deans;  a' body  spoke  weel  about 
ye  when  we  lived  in  the  Pleasaunts.  And  I  mind  aye  the 
drink  o'  milk  ye  gae  me  yon  day,  when  I  had  been  on  Arthur's 
Seat  for  four-and-twenty  hours,  looking  for  the  ship  that  some- 
body was  sailing  in." 

These  words  recalled  to  Jeanie' s  recollection  that,  in  fact, 
she  had  been  one  morning  much  frightened  by  meeting  a  crazy 
young  woman  near  her  father's  house  at  an  early  hour,  and 
that,  as  she  appeared  to  be  harmless,  her  apprehension  had 
been  changed  into  pity,  and  she  had  relieved  the  unhappy 
wanderer  with  some  food,  which  she  devoured  with  the  haste 
of  a  famished  person.  The  incident,  trifling  in  itself,  was  at 
present  of  great  importance,  if  it  should  be  found  to  have 
made  a  favourable  and  permanent  impression  on  the  mind  of 
the  object  of  her  charity. 

"  Yes,"  said  Madge,  "I'll  tell  ye  all  about  it,  for  ye  are  a 
decent  man's  daughter — Douce  Davie  Deans,  ye  ken;  and 
maybe  ye'll  can  teach  me  to  find  out  the  narrow  way  and  the 


356 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


strait  path;  for  I  have  been  burning  bricks  in  Egypt,  and 
walking  through  the  weary  wilderness  of  Sinai,  for  lang  and 
mony  a  day.  But  whenever  I  think  about  mine  errors,  I  am 
like  to  cover  my  lips  for  shame."  Here  she  looked  up  and 
smiled.  "It's  a  strange  thing  now — I  hae  spoke  mair  gude 
words  to  you  in  ten  minutes,  than  I  wad  speak  to  my  mother 
in  as  mony  years.  It's  no  that  I  dinna  think  on  them,  and 
whiles  they  are  just  at  my  tongue's  end;  but  then  comes  the 
devil  and  brushes  my  lips  with  his  black  wing,  and  lays  his 
broad  black  loof  on  my  mouth — for  a  black  loof  it  is,  Jeanie — 
and  sweeps  away  a'  my  gude  thoughts,  and  dits  up  my  gude 
words,  and  pits  a  wheen  fule  sangs  and  idle  vanities  in  their 
place." 

"Try,  Madge,"  said  Jeanie — "try  to  settle  your  mind  and 
make  your  breast  clean,  and  you'll  find  your  heart  easier. 
Just  resist  the  devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  you;  and  mind 
that,  as  my  worthy  father  tells  me,  there  is  nae  devil  sae  de- 
ceitfu'  as  our  ain  wandering  thoughts." 

"  And  that's  true  too,  lass, "  said  Madge,  starting  up ;  "  and 
I'll  gang  a  gate  where  the  devil  daurna  follow  me;  and  it's  a 
gate  that  you  will  like  dearly  to  gang;  but  I'll  keep  a  fast 
haud  o'  your  arm,  for  fear  Apollyon  should  stride  across  the 
path,  as  he  did  in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress." 

Accordingly  she  got  up,  and,  taking  Jeanie  by  the  arm, 
began  to  walk  forward  at  a  great  pace ;  and  soon,  to  her  com- 
panion's  no  small  joy,  came  into  a  marked  path,  with  the 
meanders  of  which  she  seemed  perfectly  acquainted.  Jeanie 
endeavoured  to  bring  her  back  to  the  confessional,  but  the 
fancy  was  gone  by.  In  fact,  the  mind  of  this  deranged  being 
resembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  quantity  of  dry  leaves,  which 
may  for  a  few  minutes  remain  still,  but  are  instantly  discom- 
posed and  put  in  motion  by  the  first  casual  breath  of  air.  She 
had  now  got  John  Bunyan's  parable  into  her  head,  to  the 
exclusion  of  everything  else,  and  on  she  went  with  great 
volubility. 

"  Did  ye  never  read  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  ?  And  you  shall 
be  the  woman  Christiana,  and  I  will  be  the  maiden  Mercy ;  for 
ye  ken  Mercy  was  of  the  fairer  countenance,  and  the  more  al- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


357 


luring  than  her  companion ;  and  if  I  had  my  little  messan  dog 
here,  it  would  be  Great-Heart,  their  guide,  ye  ken,  for  he  was 
e'en  as  bauld  that  he  wad  bark  at  ony  thing  twenty  times  his 
size;  and  that  was  e'en  the  death  of  him,  for  he  bit  Corporal 
MacAlpine's  heels  ae  morning  when  they  were  hauling  me  to 
the  guard-house,  and  Corporal  MacAlpine  killed  the  bit  faith- 
fu'  thing  wi'  his  Lochaber  axe — deil  pike  the  Highland  banes 
o'  him!" 

"  Oh  fie,  Madge, "  said  Jeanie,  "  ye  should  not  speak  such 
words." 

"It's  very  true,"  said  Madge,  shaking  her  head;  "but  then 
I  maunna  think  on  my  puir  bit  doggie,  Snap,  when  I  saw  it 
lying  dying  in  the  gutter.  But  it's  just  as  weel,  for  it  suffered 
baith  cauld  and  hunger  when  it  was  living,  and  in  the  grave 
there  is  rest  for  a'  things — rest  for  the  doggie,  and  my  puir 
bairn,  and  me." 

"Your  bairn?"  said  Jeanie,  conceiving  that  by  speaking  on 
such  a  topic,  supposing  it  to  be  a  real  one,  she  could  not  fail 
to  bring  her  companion  to  a  more  composed  temper. 

She  was  mistaken,  however,  for  Madge  coloured,  and  replied 
with  some  anger :  "  My  bairn?  ay,  to  be  sure,  my  bairn.  What 
for  shouldna  I  hae  a  bairn,  and  lose  a  bairn  too,  as  weel  as 
your  bonny  tittie,  the  Lily  of  St.  Leonard's?" 

The  answer  struck  Jeanie  with  some  alarm,  and  she  was 
anxious  to  soothe  the  irritation  she  had  unwittingly  given  oc- 
casion to.    "  I  am  very  sorry  for  your  misfortune  " 

"  Sorry  !*what  wad  ye  be  sorry  for?"  answered  Madge. 
"The  bairn  was  a  blessing — that  is,  Jeanie,  it  wad  hae  been 
a  blessing  if  it  hadna  been  for  my  mother;  but  my  mother's 
a  queer  woman.  Ye  see,  there  was  an  auld  carle  wi'  a  bit 
land,  and  a  gude  clat  o'  siller  besides,  just  the  very  picture  of 
old  Mr.  Eeeblemind  or  Mr.  Eeady-to-halt,  that  Great-Heart 
delivered  from  Slaygood  the  giant,  when  he  was  rifling  him 
and  about  to  pick  his  bones,  for  Slaygood  was  of  the  nature  of 
the  flesh-eaters;  and  Great-Heart  killed  Giant  Despair  too; 
but  I  am  doubting  Giant  Despair's  come  alive  again,  for  a' 
the  story-book;  I  find  him  busy  at  my  heart  whiles." 

"  Weel,  and  so  the  auld  carle  "  said  Jeanie,  for  she  was 


358 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


■painfully  interested  in  getting  to  the  truth  of  Madge's  history, 
which  she  could  not  but  suspect  was  in  some  extraordinary 
way  linked  and  entwined  with  the  fate  of  her  sister.  She 
was  also  desirous,  if  possible,  to  engage  her  companion  in 
some  narrative  which  might  be  carried  on  in  a  lower  tone  of 
voice,  for  she  was  in  great  apprehension  lest  the  elevated  notes 
of  Madge's  conversation  should  direct  her  mother  or  the  rob- 
bers in  search  of  them. 

"  And  so  the  auld  carle,"  said  Madge,  repeating  her  words — 
"  I  wish  you  had  seen  him  stoiting  about,  aff  ae  leg  on  to  the 
other,  wi'  a  kind  o'  dot-and-go-one  sort  o'  motion,  as  if  ilk 
ane  o'  his  twa  legs  had  belonged  to  sindry  folk.  But  Gentle 
George  could  take  him  aff  brawly.  Eh,  as  I  used  to  laugh  to 
see  George  gang  hip-hop  like  him !  I  dinna  ken,  I  think  I 
laughed  heartier  then  than  what  I  do  now,  though  maybe  no 
just  sae  muckle." 

"And  who  was  Gentle  George?"  said  Jeanie,  endeavouring 
to  bring  her  back  to  her  story. 

"  Oh,  he  was  Geordie  Eobertson,  ye  ken,  when  he  was  in 
Edinburgh;  but  that's  no  his  right  name  neither.    His  name 

is  .    But  what  is  your  business  wi'  his  name?"  said  she, 

as  if  upon  sudden  recollection.  "  What  have  ye  to  do  asking 
for  folks'  names?  Have  ye  a  mind  I  should  scour  my  knife 
between  your  ribs,  as  my  mother  says?" 

As  this  was  spoken  with  a  menacing  tone  and  gesture,  Jeanie 
hastened  to  protest  her  total  innocence  of  purpose  in  the  accr- 
dental  question  which  she  had  asked,  and  Madge  Wildfire 
went  on  somewhat  pacified. 

"  Never  ask  folks'  names,  Jeanie :  it's  no  civil.  I  hae  seen 
half  a  dozen  o'  folk  in  my  mother's  at  anes,  and  ne'er  ane  o' 
them  ca'd  the  ither  by  his  name;  and  Daddie  Eatton  says  it 
is  the  most  uncivil  thing  may  be,  because  the  bailie  bodies  are 
aye  asking  fashious  questions,  when  ye  saw  sic  a  man  or  sic  a 
man ;  and  if  ye  dinna  ken  their  names,  ye  ken  there  can  be 
nae  mair  speer'd  about  it." 

"In  what  strange  school,"  thought  Jeanie  to  herself,  "has 
this  poor  creature  been  bred  up,  where  such  remote  precau- 
tions are  taken  against  the  pursuits  of  justice?    What  would 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


359 


my  father  or  Eeuben  Butler  think,  if  I  were  to  tell  them  there 
are  sic  folk  in  the  world?  And  to  abuse  the  simplicity  of  this 
demented  creature !  Oh,  that  I  were  but  safe  at  hame  amang 
mine  ain  leal  and  true  people!  and  I'll  bless  God,  while  I 
have  breath,  that  placed  me  amongst  those  who  live  in  His 
fear,  and  under  the  shadow  of  His  wing." 

She  was  interrupted  by  the  insane  laugh  of  Madge  Wildfire, 
as  she  saw  a  magpie  hop  across  the  path. 

"  See  there!  that  was  the  gate  my  old  jo  used  to  cross  the 
country,  but  no  just  sae  lightly :  he  hadna  wings  to  help  his 
auld  legs,  I  trow ;  but  I  behoved  to  have  married  him  for  a' 
that,  Jeanie,  or  my  mother  wad  hae  been  the  dead  o'  me. 
But  then  came  in  the  story  of  my  poor  bairn,  and  my  mother 
thought  he  wad  be  deaved  wi'  its  skirling,  and  she  pat  it  away 
in  below  the  bit  bourock  of  turf  yonder,  just  to  be  out  o'  the 
gate ;  and  I  think  she  buried  my  best  wits  with  it,  for  I  have 
never  been  just  mysell  since.  And  only  think,  Jeanie,  after 
my  mother  had  been  at  a'  this  pains,  the  auld  doited  body 
Johnny  Drottle  turned  up  his  nose,  and  wadna  hae  aught  to 
say  to  me!  But  it's  little  I  care  for  him,  for  I  have  led  a 
merry  life  ever  since,  and  ne'er  a  braw  gentleman  looks  at  me 
but  ye  wad  think  he  was  gaun  to  drop  off  his  horse  for  mere 
love  of  me.  I  have  kenn'd  some  o'  them  put  their  hand  in 
their  pocket  and  gie  me  as  muckle  as  sixpence  at  a  time,  just 
for  my  weel-faur'd  face." 

This  speech  gave  Jeanie  a  dark  insight  into  Madge's  his- 
tory. She  had  been  courted  by  a  wealthy  suitor,  whose  ad- 
dresses her  mother  had  favoured,  notwithstanding  the  objec- 
tion of  old  age  and  deformity.  She  had  been  seduced  by  some 
profligate,  and,  to  conceal  her  shame  and  promote  the  advan- 
tageous match  she  had  planned,  her  mother  had  not  hesitated 
to  destroy  the  offspring  of  their  intrigue.  That  the  conse- 
quence should  be  the  total  derangement  of  a  mind  which  was 
constitutionally  unsettled  by  giddiness  and  vanity  was  ex- 
tremely natural ;  and  such  was,  in  fact,  the  history  of  Madge 
Wildfire's  insanity. 


360 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTEE  XXXI. 

So  free  from  danger,  free  from  fear, 

They  cross' d  the  court,  right  glad  they  were. 

Christabel. 

Pursuing  the  path  which  Madge  had  chosen,  Jeanie  Deans 
observed,  to  her  no  small  delight,  that  marks  of  more  cultiva- 
tion appeared,  and  the  thatched  roofs  of  houses,  with  their 
blue  smoke  arising  in  little  columns,  were  seen  embosomed  in 
a  tuft  of  trees  at  some  distance.  The  track  led  in  that  direc- 
tion, and  Jeanie  therefore  resolved,  while  Madge  continued 
to  pursue  it,  that  she  would  ask  her  no  questions ;  having  had 
the  penetration  to  observe  that  by  doing  so  she  ran  the  risk  of 
irritating  her  guide,  or  awakening  suspicions,  to  the  impres- 
sions of  which  persons  in  Madge's  unsettled  state  of  mind  are 
particularly  liable. 

Madge  therefore,  uninterrupted,  went  on  with  the  wild  dis- 
jointed chat  which  her  rambling  imagination  suggested;  a 
mood  in  which  she  was  much  more  communicative  respecting 
her  own  history  and  that  of  others  than  when  there  was  any 
attempt  made,  by  direct  queries  or  cross-examinations,  to  ex- 
tract information  on  these  subjects. 

"It's  a  queer  thing,"  she  said,  "but  whiles  I  can  speak 
about  the  bit  bairn  and  the  rest  of  it,  just  as  if  it  had  been 
another  body's  and  no  my  ain;  and  whiles  I  am  like  to  break 
my  heart  about  it.    Had  you  ever  a  bairn,  Jeanie?" 

Jeanie  replied  in  the  negative. 

"  Ay,  but  your  sister  had,  though ;  and  I  ken  what  came 
o't  too." 

"  In  the  name  of  Heavenly  mercy, "  said  Jeanie,  forgetting 
the  line  of  conduct  which  she  had  hitherto  adopted,  "  tell  me 
but  what  became  of  that  unfortunate  babe,  and  " 

Madge  stopped,  looked  at  her  gravely  and  fixedly,  and  then 
broke  into  a  great  fit  of  laughing.  "  Aha,  lass,  catch  me  if 
you  can.  I  think  it's  easy  to  gar  you  trow  ony  thing.  How 
suld  I  ken  ony  thing  o'  your  sister's  wean?  Lasses  suld 
hae  naething  to  do  wi'  weans  till  they  are  married ;  and  then 


THE  HEAKT  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


361 


a'  the  gossips  and  cummers  come  in  and  feast  as  if  it  were  the 
blythest  day  in  the  warld.  They  say  maidens'  bairns  are  weel 
guided.  I  wot  that  wasna  true  of  your  tittie's  and  mine;  but 
these  are  sad  tales  to  tell,  I  maun  just  sing  a  bit  to  keep  up 
my  heart.  It's  a  sang  that  Gentle  George  made  on  me  lang 
syne,  when  I  went  with  him  to  Lockington  wake  to  see  him 
act  upon  a  stage,  in  fine  clothes,  with  the  player  folk.  He 
might  have  dune  waur  than  married  me  that  night  as  he  prom- 
ised :  "  Better  wed  over  the  mixen  as  over  the  moor, "  as  they 
say  in  Yorkshire — he  may  gang  farther  and  fare  waur ;  but 
that's  aJ  ane  to  the  sang: 

I'm  Madge  of  the  country,  I'm  Madge  of  the  town, 
And  I'm  Madge  of  the  lad  I  am  blithest  to  own. 
The  Lady  of  Beever  in  diamonds  may  shine, 
But  has  not  a  heart  half  so  lightsome  as  mine. 

I  am  Queen  of  the  Wake,  and  I'm  Lady  of  May, 
And  I  lead  the  blithe  ring  round  the  May-pole  to-day. 
The  wildfire  that  flashes  so  fair  and  so  free 
Was  never  so  bright  or  so  bonny  as  me. 

I  like  that  the  best  o'  a'  my  sangs,"  continued  the  maniac, 
"  because  he  made  it.  I  am  often  singing  it,  and  that's  may- 
be the  reason  folk  ca'  me  Madge  Wildfire.  I  aye  answer  to 
the  name,  though  it's  no  my  ain,  for  what's  the  use  of  making 
a  fash?" 

"But  ye  shouldna  sing  upon  the  Sabbath  at  least,"  said 
Jeanie,  who,  amid  all  her  distress  and  anxiety,  could  not  help 
being  scandalised  at  the  deportment  of  her  companion,  espe- 
cially as  they  now  approached  near  to  the  little  village. 

"  Ay !  is  this  Sunday?"  said  Madge.  "  My  mother  leads  sic 
a  life,  wi'  turning  night  into  day,  that  ane  loses  a'  count  o' 
the  days  o'  the  week,  and  disna  ken  Sunday  frae  Saturday. 
Besides,  it's  a'  your  Whiggery :  in  England  folks  sing  when 
they  like.  And  then,  ye  ken,  you  are  Christiana  and  I  am 
Mercy ;  and  ye  ken,  as  they  went  on  their  way,  they  sang. " 
And  she  immediately  raised  one  of  John  Bunyan's  ditties: 

H  He  that  is  down  need  fear  no  fall, 
He  that  is  low  no  pride ; 
He  that  is  humble  ever  shall 
Have  God  to  be  his  guide. 


362 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Fulness  to  such  a  burthen  is 

That  go  on  pilgrimage ; 
Here  little,  and  hereafter  bliss, 

Is  best  from  age  to  age. 

And  do  ye  ken,  Jeanie,  I  think  there's  much  truth  in  that 
book,  the  Pilgrim' }s  Progress.  The  boy  that  sings  that  song 
was  feeding  his  father's  sheep  in  the  Valley  of  Humiliation, 
and  Mr.  Great-Heart  says  that  he  lived  a  merrier  life,  and  had 
more  of  the  herb  called  heart' s-ease  in  his  bosom,  than  they 
that  wear  silk  and  velvet  like  me,  and  are  as  bonny  as  I  am." 

Jeanie  Deans  had  never  read  the  fanciful  and  delightful 
parable  to  which  Madge  alluded.  Bunyan  was,  indeed,  a 
rigid  Calvinist,  but  then  he  was  also  a  member  of  a  Baptist 
congregation,  so  that  his  works  had  no  place  on  David  Deans 's 
shelf  of  divinity.  Madge,  however,  at  some  time  of  her  life 
had  been  well  acquainted,  as  it  appeared,  with  the  most  popu- 
lar of  his  performances,  which,  indeed,  rarely  fails  to  make  a 
deep  impression  upon  children  and  people  of  the  lower  rank. 

"I  am  sure,"  she  continued,  "I. may  weel  say  I  am  come 
out  of  the  City  of  Destruction,  for  my  mother  is  Mrs.  Bat's- 
eyes,  that  dwells  at  Deadman's  Corner;  and  Frank  Levitt 
and  Tyburn  Tarn,  they  may  be  likened  to  Mistrust  and  Guilt, 
that  came  galloping  up,  and  struck  the  poor  pilgrim  to  the 
ground  with  a  great  club,  and  stole  a  bag  of  silver,  which  was 
most  of  his  spending  money,  and  so  have  they  done  to  many, 
and  will  do  to  more.  But  now  we  will  gang  to  the  Interpre- 
ter's house,  for  I  ken  a  man  that  will  play  the  Interpreter 
right  weel;  for  he  has  eyes  lifted  up  to  heaven,  the  best  of 
books  in  his  hand,  the  law  of  truth  written  on  his  lips,  and 
he  stands  as  if  he  pleaded  wi'  men.  Oh  if  I  had  minded  what 
he  had  said  to  me,  I  had  never  been  the  castaway  creature  that 
I  am!  But  it  is  all  over  now.  But  we'll  knock  at  the  gate, 
and  then  the  keeper  will  admit  Christiana,  but  Mercy  will  be 
left  out;  and  then  I'll  stand  at  the  door  trembling  and  crying, 
and  then  Christiana — that's  you,  Jeanie — will  intercede  for 
me;  and  then  Mercy — that's  me,  ye  ken — will  faint;  and  then 
the  Interpreter — yes,  the  Interpreter,  that's  Mr.  Staunton  him- 
self— will  come  out  and  take  me — that's  poor,  lost,  demented 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


3G3 


me — by  the  hand,  and  give  me  a  pomegranate,  and  a  piece  of 
honeycomb,  and  a  small  bottle  of  spirits,  to  stay  my  fainting ; 
and  then  the  good  times  will  come  back  again,  and  we'll  be 
the  happiest  folk  you  ever  saw." 

In  the  midst  of  the  confused  assemblage  of  ideas  indicated 
in  this  speech,  Jeanie  thought  she  saw  a  serious  purpose  on 
the  part  of  Madge  to  endeavour  to  obtain  the  pardon  and  coun- 
tenance of  some  one  whom  she  had  offended ;  an  attempt  the 
most  likely  of  all  others  to  bring  them  once  more  into  contact 
with  law  and  legal  protection.  She  therefore  resolved  to  be 
guided  by  her  while  she  was  in  so  hopeful  a  disposition,  and 
act  for  her  own  safety  according  to  circumstances. 

They  were  now  close  by  the  village,  one  of  those  beautiful 
scenes  which  are  so  often  found  in  merry  England,  where  the 
cottages,  instead  of  being  built  in  two  direct  lines  on  each 
side  of  a  dusty  highroad,  stand  in  detached  groups,  inter- 
spersed not  only  with  large  oaks  and  elms,  but  with  fruit- 
trees,  so  many  of  which  were  at  this  time  in  flourish  that  the 
grove  seemed  enamelled  with  their  crimson  and  white  blos- 
soms. In  the  centre  of  the  hamlet  stood  the  parish  church 
and  its  little  Gothic  tower,  from  which  at  present  was  heard 
the  Sunday  chime  of  bells. 

"  We  will  wait  here  until  the  folk  are  a'  in  the  church — they 
ca'  the  kirk  a  church  in  England,  Jeanie,  be  sure  you  mind 
that — for  if  I  was  gaun  forward  amang  them,  a'  the  gaitts  o' 
boys  and  lasses  wad  be  crying  at  Madge  Wildfire's  tail,  the 
little  hellrakers !  and  the  beadle  would  be  as  hard  upon  us  as 
if  it  was  our  fault.  I  like  their  skirling  as  ill  as  he  does,  I 
can  tell  him;  I'm  sure  I  often  wish  there  was  a  het  peat  doun 
their  throats  when  they  set  them  up  that  gate. " 

Conscious  of  the  disorderly  appearance  of  her  own  dress 
after  the  adventure  of  the  preceding  night,  and  of  the  gro- 
tesque habit  and  demeaunor  of  her  guide,  and  sensible  how 
important  it  was  to  secure  an  attentive  and  patient  audience 
to  her  strange  story  from  some  one  who  might  have  the  means 
to  protect  her,  Jeanie  readily  acquiesced  in  Madge's  proposal 
to  rest  under  the  trees,  by  which  they  were  still  somewhat 
screened,  until  the  commencement  of  service  should  give  them 


364 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


an  opportunity  of  entering  the  harnlet  without  attracting  a 
crowd  around  them.  She  made  the  less  opposition,  that  Madge 
had  intimated  that  this  was  not  the  village  where  her  mother 
was  in  custody,  and  that  the  two  squires  of  the  pad  were  ab- 
sent in  a  different  direction. 

She  sate  herself  down,  therefore,  at  the  foot  of  an  oak,  and 
by  the  assistance  of  a  placid  fountain  which  had  been  dammed 
up  for  the  use  of  the  villagers,  and  which  served  her  as  a  nat- 
ural mirror,  she  began — no  uncommon  thing  with  a  Scottish 
maiden  of  her  rank — to  arrange  her  toilette  in  the  open  air, 
and  bring  her  dress,  soiled  and  disordered  as  it  was,  into  such 
order  as  the  place  and  circumstances  admitted. 

She  soon  perceived  reason,  however,  to  regret  that  she  had 
set  about  this  task,  however  decent  and  necessary,  in  the 
present  time  and  society.  Madge  Wildfire,  who,  among  other 
indications  of  insanity,  had  a  most  overweening  opinion  of 
those  charms  to  which,  in  fact,  she  had  owed  her  misery,  and 
whose  mind,  like  a  raft  upon  a  lake,  was  agitated  and  driven 
about  at  random  by  each  fresh  impulse,  no  sooner  beheld 
Jeanie  begin  to  -arrange  her  hair,  place  her  bonnet  in  order, 
rub  the  dust  from  her  shoes  and  clothes,  adjust  her  neck-hand- 
kerchief and  mittens,  and  so  forth,  than  with  imitative  zeal 
she  began  to  bedizen  and  trick  herself  out  with  shreds  and 
remnants  of  beggarly  finery,  which  she  took  out  of  a  little 
bundle,  and  which,  when  disposed  around  her  person,  made 
her  appearance  ten  times  more  fantastic  and  apish  than  it  had 
been  before. 

Jeanie  groaned  in  spirit,  but  dared  not  interfere  in  a  matter 
so  delicate.  Across  the  man's  cap  or  riding-hat  which  she 
wore,  Madge  placed  a  broken  and  soiled  white  feather,  inter- 
sected with  one  which  had  been  shed  from  the  train  of  a  pea- 
cock. To  her  dress,  which  was  a  kind  of  riding-habit,  she 
stitched,  pinned,  and  otherwise  secured  a  large  furbelow  of 
artificial  flowers,  all  crushed,  wrinkled,  and  dirty,  which  had 
first  bedecked  a  lady  of  quality,  then  descended  to  her  abigail, 
and  dazzled  the  inmates  of  the  servants' -hall.  A  tawdry  scarf 
of  yellow  silk,  trimmed  with  tinsel  and  spangles,  which  had 
seen  as  hard  service  and  boasted  as  honourable  a  transmis- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


365 


sion,  was  next  flung  over  one  shoulder,  and  fell  across  her 
person  in  the  manner  of  a  shoulder-belt,  or  baldrick.  Madge 
then  stripped  off  the  coarse  ordinary  shoes  which  she  wore, 
and  replaced  them  by  a  pair  of  dirty  satin  ones,  spangled  and 
embroidered  to  match  the  scarf,  and  furnished  with  very  high 
heels.  She  had  cut  a  willow  switch  in  her  morning's  walk, 
almost  as  long  as  a  boy's  fishing-rod.  This  she  set  herself 
seriously  to  peel,  and  when  it  was  transformed  into  such  a 
wand  as  the  Treasurer  or  High  Steward  bears  on  public  occa- 
sions, she  told  Jeanie  that  she  thought  they  now  looked  de- 
cent, as  young  women  should  do  upon  the  Sunday  morning, 
and  that,  as  the  bells  had  done  ringing,  she  was  willing  to 
conduct  her  to  the  Interpreter's  house. 

Jeanie  sighed  heavily  to  think  it  should  be  her  lot  on  the 
Lord's  day,  and  during  kirk- time  too,  to  parade  the  street  of 
an  inhabited  village  with  so  very  grotesque  a  comrade ;  but 
necessity  had  no  law,  since,  without  a  positive  quarrel  with 
the  madwoman,  which,  in  the  circumstances,  would  have  been 
very  unadvisable,  she  could  see  no  means  of  shaking  herself 
free  of  her  society. 

As  for  poor  Madge,  she  was  completely  elated  with  per- 
sonal vanity,  and  the  most  perfect  satisfaction  concerning  her 
own  dazzling  dress  and  superior  appearance.  They  entered 
the  hamlet  without  being  observed,  except  by  one  old  woman, 
who,  being  nearly  *  high-gravel  blind,"  was  only  conscious 
that  something  very  fine  and  glittering  was  passing  by,  and 
;  dropped  as  deep  a  reverence  to  Madge  as  she  would  have  done 
;  to  a  countess.  This  filled  up  the  measure  of  Madge's  self-ap- 
probation. She  minced,  she  ambled,  she  smiled,  she  simpered, 
and  waved  Jeanie  Deans  forward  with  the  condescension  of  a 
noble  chaperon,  who  has  undertaken  the  charge  of  a  country 
miss  on  her  first  journey  to  the  capital. 

Jeanie  followed  in  patience,  and  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground,  that  she  might  save  herself  the  mortification  of  seeing 
her  companion's  absurdities ;  but  she  started  when,  ascending 
two  or  three  steps,  she  found  herself  in  the  churchyard,  and 
saw  that  Madge  was  making  straight  for  the  door  of  the 
church.    As  Jeanie  had  no  mind  to  enter  the  congregation  in 


366 


WAYEKLEY  NOVELS. 


such  company,  she  walked  aside  from  the  pathway,  and  said 
in  a  decided  tone :  "  Madge,  I  will  wait  here  till  the  church 
comes  out ;  you  may  go  in  by  yourself  if  you  have  a  mind. " 

As  she  spoke  these  words,  she  was  about  to  seat  herself 
upon  one  of  the  gravestones. 

Madge  was  a  little  before  Jeanie  when  she  turned  aside; 
but  suddenly  changing  her  course,  she  followed  her  with  long 
strides,  and,  with  every  feature  inflamed  with  passion,  over- 
took and  seized  her  by  the  arm.  "  Do  ye  think,  ye  ungratefu' 
wretch,  that  I  am  gaun  to  let  you  sit  doun  upon  my  father's 
grave?  The  deil  settle  ye  doun!  if  ye  dinna  rise  and  come 
into  the  Interpreter's  house,  that's  the  house  of  God,  wi'  me, 
but  I'll  rive  every  dud  aff  your  back!" 

She  adapted  the  action  to  the  phrase ;  for  with  one  clutch 
she  stripped  Jeanie  of  her  straw  bonnet  and  a  handful  of  her 
hair  to  boot,  and  threw  it  up  into  an  old  yew-tree,  where  it 
stuck  fast.  Jeanie' s  first  impulse  was  to  scream,  but  con- 
ceiving she  might  receive  deadly  harm  before  she  could  obtain 
the  assistance  of  any  one,  notwithstanding  the  vicinity  of  the 
church,  she  thought  it  wiser  to  follow  the  madwoman  into 
the  congregation,  where  she  might  find  some  means  of  escape 
from  her,  or  at  least  be  secured  against  her  violence.  .  But 
when  she  meekly  intimated  her  consent  to  follow  Madge,  her 
guide's  uncertain  brain  had  caught  another  train  of  ideas. 
She  held  Jeanie  fast  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  point- 
ed to  the  inscription  on  the  gravestone,  and  commanded  her  to 
read  it.    Jeanie  obeyed,  and  read  these  words : 

"  This  Monument  was  erected  to  the  Memory  of  Donald 
murdockson  of  the  klng's  xxvi.,  or  cameronian 
Regiment,  a  sincere  Christian,  a  brave  Soldier,  and 
a  faithful  servant,  by  his  grateful  and  sorrowing 
Master,  Robert  Staunton." 

"  It's  very  weel  read,  Jeanie;  it's  just  the  very  words,"  said 
Madge,  whose  ire  had  now  faded  into  deep  melancholy,  and 
with  a  step  which,  to  Jeanie' s  great  joy,  was  uncommonly 
quiet  and  mournful,  she  led  her  companion  towards  the  door 
of  the  church. 

It  was  one  of  those  old-fashioned  Gothic  parish  churches 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


367 


winch  are  frequent  in  England,  the  most  cleanly,  decent,  and 
reverential  places  of  worship  that  are,  perhaps,  anywhere  to 
be  found  in  the  Christian  world.  Yet,  notwithstanding  the 
decent  solemnity  of  its  exterior,  Jeanie  was  too  faithful  to  the 
directory  of  the  Presbyterian  Kirk  to  have  entered  a  prelatic 
place  of  worship,  and  would,  upon  any  other  occasion,  have 
thought  that  she  beheld  in  the  porch  the  venerable  figure  of 
her  father  waving  her  back  from  the  entrance,  and  pronounc- 
ing in  a  solemn  tone :  "  Cease,  my  child,  to  hear  the  instruction 
which  causeth  to  err  from  the  words  of  knowledge."  But  in 
her  present  agitating  and  alarming  situation,  she  looked  for 
safety  to  this  forbidden  place  of  assembly,  as  the  hunted  ani- 
mal will  sometimes  seek  shelter  from  imminent  danger  in  the 
human  habitation,  or  in  other  places  of  refuge  most  alien 
to  its  nature  and  habits.  Not  even  the  sound  of  the  organ, 
and  of  one  or  two  flutes  which  accompanied  the  psalmody, 
prevented  her  from  following  her  guide  into  the  chancel  of 
the  church. 

No  sooner  had  Madge  put  her  foot  upon  the  pavement,  and 
become  sensible  that  she  was  the  object  of  attention  to  the 
spectators,  than  she  resumed  all  the  fantastic  extravagance  of 
deportment  which  some  transient  touch  of  melancholy  had 
banished  for  an  instant.  She  swam  rather  than  walked  up 
the  centre  aisle,  dragging  Jeanie  after  her,  whom  she  held 
fast  by  the  hand.  She  would,  indeed,  have  fain  slipped  aside 
into  the  pew  nearest  to  the  door,  and  left  Madge  to  ascend  in 
her  own  manner  and  alone  to  the  high  places  of  the  synagogue ; 
but  this  was  impossible,  without  a  degree  of  violent  resistance 
which  seemed  to  her  inconsistant  with  the  time  and  place,  and 
she  was  accordingly  led  in  captivity  up  the  whole  length  of 
the  church  by  her  grotesque  conductress,  who,  with  half- shut 
eyes,  a  prim  smile  upon  her  lips,  and  a  mincing  motion  with 
her  hands,  which  corresponded  with  the  delicate  and  affected 
pace  at  which  she  was  pleased  to  move,  seemed  to  take  the 
general  stare  of  the  congregation  which  such  an  exhibition 
necessarily  excited  as  a  high  compliment,  and  which  she  re- 
turned by  nods  and  half  courtesies  to  individuals  amongst  the 
audience  whom  she  seemed  to  distinguish  as  acquaintances. 


368 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Her  absurdity  was  enhanced  in  the  eyes  of  the  spectators  by 
the  strange  contrast  which  she  formed  to  her  companion,  who, 
with  dishevelled  hair,  downcast  eyes,  and  a  face  glowing  with 
shame,  was  dragged,  as  it  were,  in  triumph  after  her. 

Madge's  airs  were  at  length  fortunately  cut  short  by  her 
encountering  in  her  progress  the  looks  of  the  clergyman,  who 
fixed  upon  her  a  glance  at  once  steady,  compassionate,  and 
admonitory.  She  hastily  opened  an  empty  pew  which  hap- 
pened to  be  near  her,  and  entered,  dragging  in  Jeanie  after 
her.  Kicking  Jeanie  on  the  shins  by  way  of  hint  that  she 
should  follow  her  example,  she  sunk  her  head  upon  her  hand 
for  the  space  of  a  minute.  Jeanie,  to  whom  this  posture  of 
mental  devotion  was  entirely  new,  did  not  attempt  to  do  the 
like,  but  looked  round  her  with  a  bewildered  stare,  which  her 
neighbours,  judging  from  the  company  in  which  they  saw  her, 
very  naturally  ascribed  to  insanity.  Every  person  in  their 
immediate  vicinity  drew  back  from  this  extraordinary  couple 
as  far  as  the  limits  of  their  pew  permitted ;  but  one  old  man 
could  not  get  beyond  Madge's  reach  ere  she  had  snatched  the ; 
prayer-book  from  his  hand  and  ascertained  the  lesson  of  the 
day.  She  then  turned  up  the  ritual,  and,  with  the  most  over- ' 
strained  enthusiasm  of  gesture  and  manner,  showed  Jeanie 
the  passages  as  they  were  read  in  the  service,  making,  at  the 
same  time,  her  own  responses  so  loud  as  to  be  heard  above 
those  of  every  other  person. 

Notwithstanding  the  shame  and  vexation  which  Jeanie  felt 
in  being  thus  exposed  in  a  place  of  worship,  she  could  not  and 
durst  not  omit  rallying  her  spirits  so  as  to  look  around  her  and 
consider  to  whom  she  ought  to  appeal  for  protection  so  soon 
as  the  service  should  be  concluded.  Her  first  ideas  naturally 
fixed  upon  the  clergyman,  and  she  was  confirmed  in  the  reso- 
lution by  observing  that  he  was  an  aged  gentleman,  of  a  dig- 
nified appearance  and  deportment,  who  read  the  service  with 
an  undisturbed  and  decent  gravity,  which  brought  back  to  be- 
coming attention  those  younger  members  of  the  congregation 
who  had  been  disturbed  by  the  extravagant  behaviour  of  Madge 
Wildfire.  To  the  clergyman,  therefore,  Jeanie  resolved  to 
make  her  appeal  when  the  service  was  over. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


369 


It  is  true,  she  felt  disposed  to  be  shocked  at  his  surplice,  of 
which  she  had  heard  so  much,  but  which  she  had  never  seen 
upon  the  person  of  a  preacher  of  the  Word.  Then  she  was 
confused  by  the  change  of  posture  adopted  in  different  parts 
of  the  ritual,  the  more  so  as  Madge  Wildfire,  to  whom  they 
seemed  familiar,  took  the  opportunity  to  exercise  authority 
over  her,  pulling  her  up  and  pushing  her  down  with  a  bus- 
tling assiduity  which  Jeanie  felt  must  make  them  both  the 
objects  of  painful  attention.  But,  notwithstanding  these  preju- 
dices, it  was  her  prudent  resolution,  in  this  dilemma,  to  imi- 
tate as  nearly  as  she  could  what  was  done  around  her.  "  The 
prophet,"  she  thought,  "permitted  Naaman  the  Syrian  to  bow 
even  in  the  house  of  Eimmon.  Surely  if  I,  in  this  streight, 
worship  the  God  of  my  fathers  in  mine  own  language,  al- 
though the  manner  thereof  be  strange  to  me,  the  Lord  will 
pardon  me  in  this  thing." 

In  this  resolution  she  became  so  much  confirmed  that,  with- 
drawing herself  from  Madge  as  far  as  the  pew  permitted,  she 
endeavoured  to  evince,  by  serious  and  undeviating  attention  to 
what  was  passing,  that  her  mind  was  composed  to  devotion. 
Her  tormentor  would  not  long  have  permitted  her  to  remain 
quiet,  but  fatigue  overpowered  her,  and  she  fell  fast  asleep  in 
the  other  corner  of  the  pew. 

Jeanie,  though  her  mind  in  her  own  despite  sometimes  re- 
verted to  her  situation,  compelled  herself  to  give  attention  to 
a  sensible,  energetic,  and  well-composed  discourse  upon  the 
practical  doctrines  of  Christianity,  which  she  could  not  help 
approving,  although  it  was  every  word  written  down  and  read 
by  the  preacher,  and  although  it  was  delivered  in  a  tone  and 
gesture  very  different  from  those  of  Boanerges  Stormheaven, 
who  was  her  father's  favourite  preacher.  The  serious  and 
placid  attention  with  which  Jeanie  listened  did  not  escape  the 
clergyman.  Madge  Wildfire's  entrance  had  rendered  him  ap- 
prehensive of  some  disturbance,  to  provide  against  which,  as 
far  as  possible,  he  often  turned  his  eyes  to  the  part  of  the 
church  where  Jeanie  and  she  were  placed,  and  became  soon 
aware  that,  although  the  loss  of  her  headgear  and  the  awk- 
wardness of  her  situation  had  given  an  uncommon  and  anxious 
34 


370 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


air  to  the  features  of  the  former,  yet  she  was  in  a  state  of  mind 
very  different  from  that  of  her  companion.  When  he  dis- 
missed the  congregation,  he  observed  her  look  around  with  a 
wild  and  terrified  look,  as  if  uncertain  what  course  she  ought 
to  adopt,  and  noticed  that  she  approached  one  or  two  of 
the  most  decent  of  the  congregation,  as  if  to  address  them, 
and  then  shrunk  back  timidly,  on  observing  that  they  seemed 
to  shun  and  to  avoid  her.  The  clergyman  was  satisfied  there 
must  be  something  extraordinary  in  all  this,  and  as  a  benevo- 
lent man,  as  well  as  a  good  Christian  pastor,  he  resolved  to 
inquire  into  the  matter  more  minutely. 


a     CHAPTER  XXXII. 

There  govern' d  in  that  year 
A  stern,  stout  churl — an  angry  overseer. 

Crabbe. 

While  Mr.  Staunton,  for  such  was  this  worthy  clergyman's 
name,  was  laying  aside  his  gown  in  the  vestry,  Jeanie  was  in 
the  act  of  coming  to  an  open  rupture  with  Madge. 

"  We  must  return  to  Mummer's  barn  directly,"  said  Madge; 
"we'll  be  ower  late,  and  my  mother  will  be  angry." 

"I  am  not  going  back  with  you,  Madge,"  said  Jeanie,  tak- 
ing out  a  guinea  and  offering  it  to  her ;  "  I  am  much  obliged 
to  you,  but  I  maun  gang  my  ain  road. " 

"  And  me  coming  a'  this  way  out  o'  my  gate  to  pleasure  you, 
ye  ungratef u'  cutty, "  answered  Madge ;  "  and  me  to  be  brained 
by  my  mother  when  I  gang  hame,  and  a'  for  your  sake !  But 
I  will  gar  ye  as  good  " 

"For  God's  sake,"  said  Jeanie  to  a  man  who  stood  beside 
them,  "keep  her  off;  she  is  mad!" 

"  Ey,  ey, "  answered  the  boor ;  "  I  hae  some  guess  of  that, 
and  I  trow  thou  be'st  a  bird  of  the  same  feather.  Howsom- 
ever,  Madge,  I  red  thee  keep  hand  off  her,  or  I'se  lend  thee  a 
whisterpoop." 

Several  of  the  lower  class  of  the  parishioners  now  gathered 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


371 


round  the  strangers,  and  the  cry  arose  among  the  boys  that 
"  there  was  a-going  to  be  a  fite  between  mad  Madge  Murdock- 
son  and  another  Bess  of  Bedlam."  But  while  the  fry  assem- 
bled with  the  humane  hope  of  seeing  as  much  of  the  fun  as 
possible,  the  laced  cocked  hat  of  the  beadle  was  discerned 
among  the  multitude,  and  all  made  way  for  that  person  of 
awful  authority.    His  first  address  was  to  Madge. 

"  What's  brought  thee  back  again,  thou  silly  donnot,  to 
plague  this  parish?  Hast  thou  brought  ony  more  bastards 
wi'  thee  to  lay  to  honest  men's  doors?  or  does  thou  think  to 
burden  us  with  this  goose,  that's  as  gare-brained  as  thysell, 
as  if  rates  were  no  up  enow?  Away  wi'  thee  to  thy  thief  of 
a  mother;  she's  fast  in  the  stocks  at  Barkston  town-end. 
Away  wi'  ye  out  o'  the  parish,  or  I'se  be  at  ye  with  the 
ratan." 

Madge  stood  sulky  for  a  minute ;  but  she  had  been  too  often 
taught  submission  to  the  beadle's  authority  by  ungentle  means 
to  feel  courage  enough  to  dispute  it. 

"  And  my  mother — my  puir  auld  mother,  is  in  the  stocks  at 
Barkston!  This  is  a'  your  wyte,  Miss  Jeanie  Deans;  but  I'll 
be  upsides  wi'  you,  as  sure  as  my  name's  Madge  Wildfire — I 
mean  Murdockson.  God  help  me,  I  forget  my  very  name  in 
this  confused  waste!" 

So  saying,  she  turned  upon  her  heel  and  went  off,  followed 
by  all  the  mischievous  imps  of  the  village,  some  crying, 
"Madge,  canst  thou  tell  thy  name  yet?"  some  pulling  the 
skirts  of  her  dress,  and  all,  to  the  best  of  their  strength  and 
ingenuity,  exercising  some  new  device  or  other  to  exasperate 
her  into  frenzy. 

Jeanie  saw  her  departure  with  infinite  delight,  though  she 
wished  that,  in  some  way  or  other,  she  could  have  requited 
the  service  Madge  had  conferred  upon  her. 

In  the  mean  time,  she  applied  to  the  beadle  to  know  whether 
"  there  was  any  house  in  the  village  where  she  could  be  civilly 
entertained  for  her  money,  and  whether  she  could  be  permit- 
ted to  speak  to  the  clergyman?" 

"Ay,  ay,  we'se  ha'  reverend  care  on  thee;  and  I  think," 
answered  the  man  of  constituted  authority,  "  that,  unless  thou 


372 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


answer  the  Eector  all  the  better,  we'se  spare  thy  money,  and 
gie  thee  lodging  at  the  parish  charge,  young  woman." 

"  Where  am  I  to  go  then?"  said  Jeanie,  in  some  alarm. 

"Why,  I  am  to  take  thee  to  his  Reverence,  in  the  first 
place,  to  gie  an  account  o'  thysell,  and  to  see  thou  comena 
to  be  a  burden  upon  the  parish." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  burden  any  one,"  replied  Jeanie;  "  I  have 
enough  for  my  own  wants,  and  only  wish  to  get  on  my  jour- 
ney safely." 

"Why,  that's  another  matter,"  replied  the  beadle,  "an  if 
it  be  true ;  and  I  think  thou  dost  not  look  so  pollrumptious  as 
thy  playfellow  yonder.  Thou  wouldst  be  a  mettle  lass  enow, 
an  thou  wert  snog  and  snod  a  bit  better.  Come  thou  away, 
then;  the  Rector  is  a  good  man." 

"  Is  that  the  minister, "  said  Jeanie,  "  who  preached  " 

"The  minister!  Lord  help  thee!  What  kind  o'  Presby- 
terian art  thou?  Why,  'tis  the  Rector — the  Rector's  sell, 
woman,  and  there  isna  the  like  o'  him  in  the  county,  nor  the 
four  next  to  it.  Come  away — away  with  thee;  we  munna 
bide  here." 

"I  am  sure  I  am  very  willing  to  go  to  see  the  minister," 
said  Jeanie ;  "  for,  though  he  read  his  discourse,  and  wore  that 
surplice,  as  they  call  it  here,  I  cannot  but  think  he  must  be  a 
very  worthy  God-fearing  man,  to  preach  the  root  of  the  mat- 
ter in  the  way  he  did." 

The  disappointed  rabble,  finding  that  there  was  like  to  be 
no  farther  sport,  had  by  this  time  dispersed,  and  Jeanie,  with 
her  usual  patience,  followed  her  consequential  and  surly,  but 
not  brutal,  conductor  towards  the  rectory. 

This  clerical  mansion  was  large  and  commodious,  for  the 
living  was  an  excellent  one,  and  the  advowson  belonged  to  a 
very  wealthy  family  in  the  neighbourhood,  who  had  usually 
bred  up  a  son  or  nephew  to  the  church,  for  the  sake  of  inducting 
him,  as  opportunity  offered,  into  this  very  comfortable  provi- 
sion. In  this  manner  the  rectory  of  Willingham  had  always 
been  considered  as  a  direct  and  immediate  appanage  of  Wil- 
lingham Hall ;  and  as  the  rich  baronets  to  whom  the  latter  be- 
longed had  usually  a  son,  or  brother,  or  nephew,  settled  in  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


373 


living,  the  utmost  care  had  been  taken  to  render  their  habita- 
tion not  merely  respectable  and  commodious,  but  even  dignified 
and  imposing. 

It  was  situated  about  four  hundred  yards  from  the  village, 
and  on  a  rising  ground  which  sloped  gently  upward,  covered 
with  small  inclosures,  or  closes,  laid  out  irregularly,  so  that 
the  old  oaks  and  elms,  which  were  planted  in  hedge-rows,  fell 
into  perspective,  and  were  blended  together  in  beautiful 
irregularity.  When  they  approached  nearer  to  the  house,  a 
handsome  gateway  admitted  them  into  a  lawn,  of  narrow  di- 
mensions, indeed,  but  which  was  interspersed  with  large  sweet- 
chestnut  trees  and  beeches,  and  kept  in  handsome  order. 
The  front  of  the  house  was  irregular.  Part  of  it  seemed  very 
old,  and  had,  in  fact,  been  the  residence  of  the  incumbent  in 
Romish  times.  Successive  occupants  had  made  considerable 
additions  and  improvements,  each  in  the  taste  of  his  own  age, 
and  without  much  regard  to  symmetry.  But  these  incongrui- 
ties of  architecture  were  so  graduated  and  happily  mingled, 
that  the  eye,  far  from  being  displeased  with  the  combinations 
of  various  styles,  saw  nothing  but  what  was  interesting  in  the 
varied  and  intricate  pile  which  they  exhibited.  Fruit-trees 
displayed  on  the  southern  wall,  outer  staircases,  various  places 
of  entrance,  a  combination  of  roofs  and  chimneys  of  different 
ages,  united  to  render  the  front,  not  indeed  beautiful  or  grand, 
but  intricate,  perplexed,  or,  to  use  Mr.  Price's  appropriative 
phrase,  picturesque.  The  most  considerable  addition  was  that 
of  the  present  Eector,  who,  "  being  a  bookish  man, "  as  the 
beadle  was  at  the  pains  to  inform  Jeanie,  to  augment,  per- 
haps, her  reverence  for  the  person  before  whom  she  was  to 
appear,  had  built  a  handsome  library  and  parlour,  and  no  less 
than  two  additional  bedrooms. 

"Mony  men  would  hae  scrupled  such  expense,"  continued 
the  parochial  officer,  "  seeing  as  the  living  mun  go  as  it  pleases 
Sir  Edmund  to  will  it ;  but  his  Reverence  has  a  canny  bit  land 
of  his  own,  and  need  not  look  on  two  sides  of  a  penny." 

Jeanie  could  not  help  comparing  the  irregular  yet  extensive 
and  commodious  pile  of  building  before  her  to  the  "  manses  99 
in  her  own  country,  where  a  set  of  penurious  heritors,  profess- 


374 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ing  all  the  while  the  devotion  of  their  lives  and  fortunes  to  the 
Presbyterian  establishment,  strain  their  inventions  to  discover 
what  may  be  nipped,  &nd  clipped,  and  pared  from  a  building 
which  forms  but  a  poor  accommodation  even  for  the  present 
incumbent,  and,  despite  the  superior  advantage  of  stone  ma- 
sonry, must,  in  the  course  of  forty  or  fifty  years,  again  bur- 
den their  descendants  with  an  expense  which,  once  liberally 
and  handsomely  employed,  ought  to  have  freed  their  estates 
from  a  recurrence  of  it  for  more  than  a  century  at  least. 

Behind  the  Rector's  house  the  ground  sloped  down  to  a  small 
river,  which,  without  possessing  the  romantic  vivacity  and 
rapidity  of  a  northern  stream,  was,  nevertheless,  by  its  occa- 
sional appearance  through  the  ranges  of  willows  and  poplars 
that  crowned  its  banks,  a  very  pleasing  accompaniment  to  the 
landscape.  "  It  was  the  best  trouting  stream, "  said  the  beadle, 
whom  the  patience  of  Jeanie,  and  especially  the  assurance  that 
she  was  not  about  to  become  a  burden  to  the  parish,  had  ren- 
dered rather  communicative — "  the  best  trouting  stream  in  all 
Lincolnshire ;  for  when  you  got  lower  there  was  nought  to  be 
done  wi?  ny-fishing." 

Turning  aside  from  the  principal  entrance,  he  conducted 
Jeanie  towards  a  sort  of  portal  connected  with  the  older  part 
of  the  building,  which  was  chiefly  occupied  by  servants,  and 
knocking  at  the  door,  it  was  opened  by  a  servant  in  grave  pur- 
ple livery,  such  as  befitted  a  wealthy  and  dignified  clergyman. 

"How  dost  do,  Tummas?"  said  the  beadle;  "and  how's 
young  Measter  Staunton?" 

"  Why,  but  poorly — but  poorly,  Measter  Stubbs.  Are  you 
wanting  to  see  his  Reverence?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  Tummas ;  please  to  say  I  ha?  brought  up  the 
young  woman  as  came  to  service  to-day  with  mad  Madge 
Murdockson ;  she  seems  to  be  a  decentish  koind  o'  body ;  but 
I  ha'  asked  her  never  a  question.  Only  I  can  tell  his  Rever- 
ence that  she  is  a  Scotchwoman,  I  judge,  and  as  flat  as  the 
fens  of  Holland." 

Tummas  honoured  Jeanie  Deans  with  such  a  stare  as  the 
pampered  domestics  of  the  rich,  whether  spiritual  or  tem- 
poral, usually  esteem  it  part  of  their  privilege  to  bestow  upon 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


375 


the  poor,  and  then  desired  Mr.  Stubbs  and  his  charge  to  step 
in  till  he  informed  his  master  of  their  presence. 

The  room  into  which  he  showed  them  was  a  sort  of  stew- 
ard's parlour,  hung  with  a  county  map  or  two,  and  three  or 
four  prints  of  eminent  persons  connected  with  the  county,  as  Sir 
William  Monson,  James  York  the  blacksmith  of  Lincoln, 1  and 
the  famous  Peregrine,  Lord  Willoughby,  in  complete  armour, 
looking  as  when  he  said,  in  the  words  of  the  legend  below  the 
engraving : 

44  Stand  to  it,  noble  pikemen, 

And  face  ye  well  about : 
And  shoot  ye  sharp,  bold  bowmen, 

And  we  will  keep  them  out. 
Ye  musquet  and  calliver-men, 

Do  you  prove  true  to  me, 
I'll  be  the  the  foremost  man  in  fight, 

Said  brave  Lord  Willoughbee." 

When  they  had  entered  this  apartment,  Tummas  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course  offered,  and  as  a  matter  of  course  Mr.  Stubbs  ac- 
cepted, a  "  summat "  to  eat  and  drink,  being  the  respectable 
relics  of  a  gammon  of  bacon,  and  a  ivhole  whiskin,  or  black 
pot,  of  sufficient  double  ale.  To  these  eatables  Mr.  Beadle 
seriously  inclined  himself,  and  (for  we  must  do  him  justice) 
not  without  an  invitation  to  Jeanie,  in  which  Tummas  joined, 
that  his  prisoner  or  charge  would  follow  his  good  example. 
But  although  she  might  have  stood  in  need  of  refreshment, 
considering  she  had  tasted  no  food  that  day,  the  anxiety  of 
the  moment,  her  own  sparing  and  abstemious  habits,  and  a 
bashful  aversion  to  eat  in  company  of  the  two  strangers,  in- 
duced her  to  decline  their  courtesy.  So  she  sate  in  a  chair 
apart,  while  Mr.  Stubbs  and  Mr.  Tummas,  who  had  chosen  to 
join  his  friend  in  consideration  that  dinner  was  to  be  put  back 
till  the  afternoon  service  was  over,  made  a  hearty  luncheon, 
which  lasted  for  half  an  hour,  and  might  not  then  have  con- 
cluded, had  not  his  Eeverence  rung  his  bell,  so  that  Tummas 
was  obliged  to  attend  his  master.  Then,  and  no  sooner,  to 
save  himself  the  labour  of  a  second  journey  to  the  other  end  of 

1  Author  of  the  Union  of  Honour,  a  treatise  on  English  Heraldry,  Loiv 
don,  1641  (Laing). 


376 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  house,  he  announced  to  his  master  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Stubbs, 
with  the  other  madwoman,  as  he  chose  to  designate  Jeanie, 
as  an  event  which  had  just  taken  place.  He  returned  with  an 
order  that  Mr.  Stubbs  and  the  young  woman  should  be  in- 
stantly ushered  up  to  the  library. 

The  beadle  bolted  in  haste  his  last  mouthful  of  fat  bacon, 
washed  down  the  greasy  morsel  with  the  last  rinsings  of  the 
pot  of  ale,  and  immediately  marshalled  Jeanie  through  one  or 
two  intricate  passages,  which  led  from  the  ancient  to  the  more 
modern  buildings,  into  a  handsome  little  hall,  or  ante-room, 
adjoining  to  the  library,  and  out  of  which  a  glass  door  opened 
to  the  lawn. 

"Stay  here,"  said  Stubbs,  "till  I  tell  his  Eeverence  you 
are  come." 

So  saying,  he  opened  a  door  and  entered  the  library. 

Without  wishing  to  hear  their  conversation,  Jeanie,  as  she 
was  circumstanced,  could  not  avoid  it ;  for  as  Stubbs  stood  by 
the  door,  and  his  Eeverence  was  at  the  upper  end  of  a  large 
room,  their  conversation  was  necessarily  audible  in  the  ante- 
room. 

"  So  you  have  brought  the  young  woman  here  at  last,  Mr. 
Stubbs.  I  expected  you  some  time  since.  You  know  I  do 
not  wish  such  persons  to  remain  in  custody  a  moment  without 
some  inquiry  into  their  situation. " 

"Very  true,  your  Eeverence,"  replied  the  beadle;  "but  the 
young  woman  had  eat  nought  to-day,  and  soa  Measter  Tummas 
did  set  down  a  drap  of  drink  and  a  morsel,  to  be  sure." 

"Thomas  was  very  right,  Mr.  Stubbs;  and  what  has  be- 
come of  the  other  most  unfortunate  being?" 

"  Why,"  replied  Mr.  Stubbs,  "I  did  think  the  sight  on  her 
would  but  vex  your  Eeverence,  and  so  I  did  let  her  go  her 
ways  back  to  her  mother,  who  is  in  trouble  in  the  next 
parish." 

"In  trouble!  that  signifies  in  prison,  I  suppose?"  said  Mr. 
Staunton. 

"Ay,  truly;  something  like  it,  an  it  like  your  Eeverence." 
"Wretched,  unhappy,  incorrigible  woman!"  said  the  clergy 
man.    "And  what  sort  of  person  is  this  companion  of  hers?* 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


377 


"Why,  decent  enow,  an  it  like  your  Reverence,"  said 
Stubbs;  "for  aught  I  sees  of  her,  there's  no  harm  of  her, 
and  she  says  she  has  cash  enow  to  carry  her  out  of  the 
county." 

"  Cash!  that  is  always  what  you  think  of,  Stubbs.  But  has 
she  sense? — has  she  her  wits? — has  she  the  capacity  of  taking 
care  of  herself?" 

"Why,  your  Reverence,"  replied  Stubbs,  "I  cannot  just 
say:  I  will  be  sworn  she  was  not  born  at  Witt-ham;1  for 
Gaffer  Gibbs  looked  at  her  all  the  time  of  service,  and  he  says 
she  could  not  turn  up  a  single  lesson  like  a  Christian,  even 
though  she  had  Madge  Murdockson  to  help  her ;  but  then,  as 
to  fending  for  hersell,  why,  she's  a  bit  of  a  Scotch  woman, 
your  Reverence,  and  they  say  the  worst  donnot  of  them  can 
look  out  for  their  own  turn ;  and  she  is  decently  put  on  enow, 
and  not  bechounched  like  t'other." 

"  Send  her  in  here,  then,  and  do  you  remain  below,  Mr. 
Stubbs." 

This  colloquy  had  engaged  Jeanie's  attention  so  deeply  that 
it  was  not  until  it  was  over  that  she  observed  that  the  sashed 
door,  which,  we  have  said,  led  from  the  ante-room  into  the 
garden,  was  opened,  and  that  there  entered,  or  rather  was 
borne  in  by  two  assistants,  a  young  man  of  a  very  pale  and 
sickly  appearance,  whom  they  lifted  to  the  nearest  couch,  and 
placed  there,  as  if  to  recover  from  the  fatigue  of  an  unusual 
exertion.  Just  as  they  were  making  this  arrangement,  Stubbs 
came  out  of  the  library  and  summoned  Jeanie  to  enter  it. 
She  obeyed  him,  not  without  tremor ;  for,  besides  the  novelty 
of  the  situation  to  a  girl  of  her  secluded  habits,  she  felt  also 
as  if  the  successful  prosecution  of  her  journey  was  to  depend 
upon  the  impression  she  should  be  able  to  make  on  Mr. 
Staunton. 

It  is  true,  it  was  difficult  to  suppose  on  what  pretext  a  per- 
son travelling  on  her  own  business,  and  at  her  own  charge, 
could  be  interrupted  upon  her  route.  But  the  violent  deten- 
tion she  had  already  undergone  was  sufficient  to  show  that 

1  A  proverbial  and  punning  expression  in  that  county,  to  intimate  that 
a  person  is  not  very  clever. 


378 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


there  existed  persons  at  no  great  distance  who  had  the  inter- 
est, the  inclination,  and  the  audacity  forcibly  to  stop  her 
journey,  and  she  felt  the  necessity  of  having  some  counte- 
nance and  protection,  at  least  till  she  should  get  beyond  their 
reach.  While  these  things  passed  through  her  mind,  much 
faster  than  our  pen  and  ink  can  record,  or  even  the  reader's 
eye  collect  the  meaning  of  its  traces,  Jeanie  found  herself  in 
a  handsome  library,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  Rector  of  Wil- 
lingham.  The  well-furnished  presses  and  shelves  which  sur- 
rounded the  large  and  handsome  apartment  contained  more 
books  than  Jean?  3  imagined  existed  in  the  world,  being  accus- 
tomed to  consider  as  an  extensive  collection  two  fir  shelves, 
each  about  three  feet  long,  which  contained  her  father's  treas- 
ured volumes,  the  whole  pith  and  marrow,  as  he  used  some- 
times to  boast,  of  modern  divinity.  An  orrery,  globes,  a  tele- 
scope, and  some  other  scientific  implements  conveyed  to  Jeanie 
an  impression  of  admiration  and  wonder,  not  unmixed  with 
fear ;  for,  in  her  ignorant  apprehension,  they  seemed  rather 
adapted  for  magical  purposes  than  any  other;  and  a  few 
stuffed  animals  (as  the  Rector  was  fond  of  natural  history) 
added  to  the  impressive  character  of  the  apartment. 

Mr.  Staunton  spoke  to  her  with  great  mildness.  He  ob- 
served that,  although  her  appearance  at  church  had  been  un- 
common, and  in  strange,  and,  he  must  add,  discreditable 
society,  and  calculated,  upon  the  whole,  to  disturb  the  congre- 
gation during  divine  worship,  he  wished,  nevertheless,  to  hear 
her  own  account  of  herself  before  taking  any  steps  which  his 
duty  might  seem  to  demand.  He  was  a  justice  of  peace,  he 
informed  her,  as  well  as  a  clergyman. 

"  His  honour  (for  she  would  not  say  his  reverence)  was  very 
civil  and  kind, "  was  all  that  poor  Jeanie  could  at  first  bring  out. 

"Who  are  you,  young  woman?"  said  the  clergyman,  more 
peremptorily,  "and  what  do  you  do  in  this  country,  and  in 
such  company?    We  allow  no  strollers  or  vagrants  here." 

"  I  am  not  a  vagrant  or  a  stroller,  sir, "  said  Jeanie,  a  little 
roused  by  the  supposition.  "I  am  a  decent  Scottish  lass, 
travelling  through  the  land  on  my  own  business  and  my  own 
expenses;  and  I  was  so  unhappy  as  to  fall  in  with  bad  com- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


379 


pany,  and  was  stopped  a'  night  on  my  journey.  And  this 
pair  creature,  who  is  something  light-headed,  let  me  out  in 
the  morning. " 

"  Bad  company!"  said  the  clergyman.  "  I  am  afraid,  young 
woman,  you  have  not  been  sufficiently  anxious  to  avoid  them. " 

"Indeed,  sir,"  returned  Jeanie,  "I  have  been  brought  up 
to  shun  evil  communication.  But  these  wicked  people  were 
thieves,  and  stopped  me  by  violence  and  mastery." 

"Thieves!"  said  Mr.  Staunton;  "then  you  charge  them 
with  robbery,  I  suppose?" 

"No,  sir;  they  did  not  take  so  much  as  a  toddle  from  me," 
answered  Jeanie ;  "  nor  did  they  use  me  ill,  otherwise  than  by 
confining  me." 

The  clergyman  inquired  into  the  particulars  of  her  adven- 
ture, which  she  told  him  from  point  to  point. 

"  This  is  an  extraordinary,  and  not  a  very  probable,  tale, 
young  woman, "  resumed  Mr.  Staunton.  "  Here  has  been,  ac- 
cording to  your  account,  a  great  violence  committed  without 
any  adequate  motive.  Are  you  aware  of  the  law  of  this  coun- 
try— that  if  you  lodge  this  charge  you  will  be  bound  over 
to  prosecute  this  gang?" 

Jeanie  did  not  understand  him,  and  he  explained  that  the 
English  law,  in  addition  to  the  inconvenience  sustained  by 
persons  who  have  been  robbed  or  injured,  has  the  goodness 
to  entrust  to  them  the  care  and  the  expense  of  appearing  as 
prosecutors. 

Jeanie  said,  "  that  her  business  at  London  was  express ;  all 
she  wanted  was,  that  any  gentleman  would  out  of  Christian 
charity  protect  her  to  some  town  where  she  could  hire  horses 
and  a  guide ;  and,  finally, "  she  thought,  "  it  would  be  her  fa- 
ther's mind  that  she  was  not  free  to  give  testimony  in  an  Eng- 
lish court  of  justice,  as  the  land  was  not  under  a  direct  Gospel 
dispensation." 

Mr.  Staunton  stared  a  little,  and  asked  if  her  father  was  a 
Quaker. 

"  God  forbid,  sir, "  said  Jeanie.  "  He  is  nae  schismatic  nor 
sectary,  nor  ever  treated  for  sic  black  commodities  as  theirs, 
and  that's  weel  kenn'd  o'  him." 


380 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"And  what  is  his  name,  pray?"  said  Mr.  Staunton. 

"  David  Deans,  sir,  the  cow-feeder  at  St.  Leonard's  Craigs, 
near  Edinburgh." 

A  deep  groan  from  the  ante-room  prevented  the  Rector  from 
replying,  and,  exclaiming,  "Good  God!  that  unhappy  boy!" 
he  left  Jeanie  alone,  and  hastened  into  the  outer  apartment. 

Some  noise  and  bustle  was  heard,  but  no  one  entered  the 
library  for  the  best  part  of  an  hour. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Fantastic  passions'  maddening  brawl ! 
And  shame  and  terror  over  all ! 
Deeds  to  be  hid  which  were  not  hid, 
Which,  all  confused,  I  could  not  know. 
Whether  I  suffer' d  or  I  did, 
For  all  seem'd  guilt,  remorse,  or  woe  ; 
My  own,  or  others,  still  the  same 
Life-stifling  fear,  soul-stifling  shame. 

Coleridge. 

During  the  interval  while  she  was  thus  left  alone,  Jeanie 
anxiously  resolved  in  her  mind  what  course  was  best  for  her 
to  pursue.  She  was  impatient  to  continue  her  journey,  yet 
she  feared  she  could  not  safely  adventure  to  do  so  while  the 
old  hag  and  her  assistants  were  in  the  neighbourhood,  without 
risking  a  repetition  of  their  violence.  She  thought  she  could 
collect  from  the  conversation  which  she  had  partly  overheard, 
and  also  from  the  wild  confessions  of  Madge  Wildfire,  that 
her  mother  had  a  deep  and  revengeful  motive  for  obstructing 
her  journey  if  possible.  And  from  whom  could  she  hope  *f or 
assistance  if  not  from  Mr.  Staunton?  His  whole  appearance 
and  demeanour  seemed  to  encourage  her  hopes.  His  features 
were  handsome,  though  marked  with  a  deep  cast  of  melan- 
choly; his  tone  and  language  were  gentle  and  encouraging; 
and,  as  he  had  served  in  the  army  for  several  years  during 
his  youth,  his  air  retained  that  easy  frankness  which  is  pecul- 
iar to  the  profession  of  arms.  He  was,  besides,  a  minister 
of  the  Gospel ;  and  although  a  worshipper,  according  to  Jea- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


381 


nie's  notions,  in  the  court  of  the  Gentiles,  and  so  benighted 
as  to  wear  a  surplice;  although  he  read  the  Common  Prayer, 
and  wrote  down  every  word  of  his  sermon  before  delivering 
it;  and  although  he  was,  moreover,  in  strength  of  lungs,  as 
well  as  pith  and  marrow  of  doctrine,  vastly  inferior  to  Boa- 
nerges Stormheaven,  Jeanie  still  thought  he  must  be  a  very 
different  person  from  Curate  Kiltstoup  and  other  prelatical 
divines  of  her  father's  earlier  days,  who  used  to  get  drunk  in 
their  canonical  dress,  and  hound  out  the  dragoons  against  the 
wandering  Cameronians.  The  house  seemed  to  be  in  some  dis- 
turbance, but  as  she  could  not  suppose  she  was  altogether  for- 
gotten, she  thought  it  better  to  remain  quiet  in  the  apartment 
where  she  had  been  left  till  some  one  should  take  notice 
of  her. 

The  first  who  entered  was,  to  her  no  small  delight,  one  of 
her  own  sex,  a  motherly-looking  aged  person  of  a  housekeeper. 
To  her  Jeanie  explained  her  situation  in  a  few  words,  and 
begged  her  assistance. 

The  dignity  of  a  housekeeper  did  not  encourage  too  much 
familiarity  with  a  person  who  was  at  the  rectory  on  justice 
business,  and  whose  character  might  seem  in  her  eyes  some- 
what precarious ;  but  she  was  civil,  although  distant. 

"Her  young  master,"  she  said,  "had  had  a  bad  accident  by 
a  fall  from  his  horse,  which  made  him  liable  to  fainting  fits ; 
he  had  been  taken  very  ill  just  now,  and  it  was  impossible  his 
Eeverence  could  see  Jeanie  for  some  time ;  but  that  she  need 
not  fear  his  doing  all  that  was  just  and  proper  in  her  behalf 
the  instant  he  could  get  her  business  attended  to."  She  con- 
cluded by  offering  to  show  Jeanie  a  room,  where  she  might 
remain  till  his  Eeverence  was  at  leisure. 

Our  heroine  took  the  opportunity  to  request  the  means  of 
adjusting  and  changing  her  dress. 

The  housekeeper,  in  whose  estimation  order  and  cleanliness 
ranked  high  among  personal  virtues,  gladly  complied  with  a 
request  so  reasonable;  and  the  change  of  dress  which  Jeanie's 
bundle  furnished  made  so  important  an  improvement  in  her 
appearance,  that  the  old  lady  hardly  knew  the  soiled  and  dis- 
ordered traveller,  whose  attire  showed  the  violence  she  had 


382 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


sustained,  in  the  neat,  clean,  quiet-looking  little  Scotchwo- 
man who  now  stood  before  her.  Encouraged  by  such  a  fa- 
vourable alteration  in  her  appearance,  Mrs.  Dalton  ventured 
to  invite  Jeanie  to  partake  of  her  dinner,  and  was  equally 
pleased  with  the  decent  propriety  of  her  conduct  during  that 
meal. 

"  Thou  canst  read  this  book,  canst  thou,  young  woman?" 
said  the  old  lady,  when  theii  meal  was  concluded,  laying  her 
hand  upon  a  large  Bible. 

"I  hope  sae,  madam,"  said  Jeanie,  surprised  at  the  ques- 
tion; "  my  father  wad  hae  wanted  mony  a  thing  ere  I  had 
wanted  that  schuling." 

"  The  better  sign  of  him,  young  woman.  There  are  men  ' 
here,  well-to-pass  in  the  world,  would  not  want  their  share 
of  a  Leicester  plover,  and  that's  a  bag-pudding,  if  fasting  for 
three  hours  would  make  all  their  poor  children  read  the  Bible 
from  end  to  end.  Take  thou  the  book,  then,  for  my  eyes  are 
something  dazed,  and  read  where  thou  listest:  it's  the  only 
book  thou  canst  not  happen  wrong  in." 

Jeanie  was  at  first  tempted  to  turn  up  the  parable  of  the 
good  Samaritan,  but  her  conscience  checked  her,  as  if  it  were 
an  use  of  Scripture  not  for  her  own  edification,  but  to  work 
upon  the  mind  of  others  for  the  relief  of  her  worldly  afflic- 
tions ;  and  under  this  scrupulous  sense  of  duty  she  selected, 
in  preference,  a  chapter  of  the  prophet  Isaiah,  and  read  it, 
notwithstanding  her  northern  accent  and  tone,  with  a  devout 
propriety  which  greatly  edified  Mrs.  Dalton. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  "an  all  Scotchwomen  were  sic  as  thou! 
But  it  was  our  luck  to  get  born  devils  of  thy  country,  I  think, 
every  one  worse  than  t'other.  If  thou  know  est  of  any  tidy 
lass  like  thysell  that  wanted  a  place,  and  could  bring  a  good 
character,  and  would  not  go  laiking  about  to  wakes  and  fairs, 
and  wore  shoes  and  stockings  all  the  day  round — why,  I'll 
not  say  but  we  might  find  room  for  her  at  the  rectory.  Hast 
no  cousin  or  sister,  lass,  that  such  an  offer  would  suit?" 

This  was  touching  upon  a  sore  point,  but  Jeanie  was  spared 
the  pain  of  replying  by  the  entrance  of  the  same  man-servant 
she  had  seen  before. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


383 


"Measter  wishes  to  see  the  young  woman  from  Scotland," 
was  Tummas  ?s  address. 

u  Go  to  his  Reverence,  my  dear,  as  fast  as  you  can,  and  tell 
him  all  your  story ;  his  Reverence  is  a  kind  man, "  said  Mrs. 
Dalton.  "  I  will  fold  down  the  leaf,  and  make  you  a  cup  of 
tea,  with  some  nice  muffin,  against  you  come  down,  and  that's 
what  you  seldom  see  in  Scotland,  girl. " 

"Measter's  waiting  for  the  young  woman,"  said  Tummas, 
impatiently. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Jack  Sauce,  and  what  is  your  business  to  put 
in  your  oar?  And  how  often  must  I  tell  you  to  call  Mr. 
Staunton  his  Reverence,  seeing  as  he  is  a  dignified  clergy- 
man, and  not  be  meastering,  meastering  him,  as  if  he  were  a 
little  petty  squire?" 

As  Jeanie  was  now  at  the  door :  and  ready  to  accompany 
Tummas,  the  footman  said  nothing  till  he  got  into  the  pas- 
sage, when  he  muttered :  "  There  are  moe  masters  than  one  in 
this  house,  and  I  think  we  shall  have  a  mistress  too,  an  Dame 
Dalton  carries  it  thus." 

Tummas  led  the  way  through  a  more  intricate  range  of  pas- 
sages than  Jeanie  had  yet  threaded,  and  ushered  her  into  an 
apartment  which  was  darkened  by  the  closing  of  most  of  the 
window-shutters,  and  in  which  was  a  bed  with  the  curtains 
partly  drawn. 

u  Here  is  the  young  woman,  sir,"  said  Tummas. 

"  Very  well,"  said  a  voice  from  the  bed,  but  not  that  of  his 
Reverence ;  "  be  ready  to  answer  the  bell,  and  leave  the  room." 

"  There  is  some  mistake, "  said  Jeanie,  confounded  at  find- 
ing herself  in  the  apartment  of  an  invalid ;  "  the  servant  told 
me  that  the  minister  " 

"Don't  trouble  yourself,"  said  the  invalid,  "there  is  no 
mistake.  I  know  more  of  your  affairs  than  my  father,  and 
I  can  manage  them  better.  Leave  the  room,  Tom."  The 
servant  obeyed.  "We  must  not,"  said  the  invalid,  "lose 
time,  when  we  have  little  to  lose.  Open  the  shutter  of  that 
window." 

She  did  so,  and,  as  he  drew  aside  the  curtain  of  his  bed, 
the  light  fell  on  his  pale  countenance,  as,  turbaned  with  ban- 


384 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


dages  and  dressed  in  a  nightgown,  he  lay,  seemingly  exhausted, 
upon  the  bed. 

"Look  at  me,"  he  said,  "  Jeanie  Deans;  can  you  not  recol- 
lect me?" 

"  No,  sir, "  said  she,  full  of  surprise.  "  I  was  never  in  this 
country  before." 

"  But  I  may  have  been  in  yours.  Think — recollect.  I 
should  faint  did  I  name  the  name  you  are  most  dearly  bound 
to  loath  and  to  detest.    Think — remember!" 

A  terrible  recollection  flashed  on  Jeanie,  which  every  tone 
of  the  speaker  confirmed,  and  which  his  next  words  rendered 
certainty. 

"  Be  composed — remember  Muschat's  Cairn  and  the  moon- 
light night!" 

Jeanie  sunk  down  on  a  chair,  with  clasped  hands,  and 
gasped  in  agony. 

"Yes,  here  I  lie,"  he  said,  "like  a  crushed  snake,  writhing 
with  impatience  at  my  incapacity  of  motion ;  here  I  lie,  when 
I  ought  to  have  been  in  Edinburgh,  trying  every  means  to 
save  a  life  that  is  dearer  to  me  than  my  own.  How  is  your 
sister?  how  fares  it  with  her? — condemned  to  death,  I  know 
it,  by  this  time !  Oh,  the  horse  that  carried  me  safely  on  a 
thousand  errands  of  folly  and  wickedness — that  he  should 
have  broke  down  with  me  on  the  only  good  mission  I  have 
undertaken  for  years!  But  I  must  rein  in  my  passion;  my 
frame  cannot  endure  it,  and  I  have  much  to  say.  Give  me 
some  of  the  cordial  which  stands  on  that  table.  Why  do  you 
tremble?  But  you  have  too  good  cause.  Let  it  stand;  I  need 
it  not." 

Jeanie,  however  reluctant,  approached  him  with  the  cup 
into  which  she  had  poured  the  draught,  and  could  not  forbear 
saying :  "  There  is  a  cordial  for  the  mind,  sir,  if  the  wicked 
will  turn  from  their  transgressions  and  seek  to  the  Physician 
of  souls." 

"Silence!"  he  said,  sternly;  "and  yet  I  thank  you.  But 
tell  me,  and  lose  no  time  in  doing  so,  what  you  are  doing  in 
this  country?  Eemember,  though  I  have  been  your  sister's 
worst  enemy,  yet  I  will  serve  her  with  the  best  of  my  blood, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


385 


and  I  will  serve  you  for  her  sake ;  and  no  one  can  serve  you 
to  such  purpose,  for  no  one  can  know  the  circumstances  so 
well;  so  speak  without  fear." 

"I  am  not  afraid,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  collecting  her  spirits. 
"I  trust  in  God;  and  if  it  pleases  Him  to  redeem  my  sister's 
captivity,  it  is  all  I  seek,  whosoever  be  the  instrument.  But, 
sir,  to  be  plain  with  you,  I  dare  not  use  your  counsel,  unless  I 
were  enabled  to  see  that  it  accords  with  the  law  which  I  must 
rely  upon." 

"  The  devil  take  the  Puritan!"  cried  George  Staunton,  for 
so  we  must  now  call  him.  "  I  beg  your  pardon ;  but  I  am 
naturally  impatient,  and  you  drive  me  mad !  What  harm  can 
it  possibly  do  you  to  tell  me  in  what  situation  your  sister 
stands,  and  your  own  expectations  of  being  able  to  assist  her? 
It  is  time  enough  to  refuse  my  advice  when  I  offer  any  which 
you  may  think  improper.  I  speak  calmly  to  you,  though  'tis 
against  my  nature ;  but  don't  urge  me  to  impatience :  it  will 
only  render  me  incapable  of  serving  Effie." 

There  was  in  the  looks  and  words  of  this  unhappy  young 
man  a  sort  of  restrained  eagerness  and  impetuosity,  which 
seemed  to  prey  upon  itself,  as  the  impatience  of  a  fiery  steed 
fatigues  itself  with  churning  upon  the  bit.  After  a  moment's 
consideration,  it  occurred  to  Jeanie  that  she  was  not  entitled 
to  withhold  from  him,  whether  on  her  sister's  account  or  her 
own,  the  account  of  the  fatal  consequences  of  the  crime  which 
he  had  committed,  nor  to  reject  such  advice,  being  in  itself 
lawful  and  innocent,  as  he  might  be  able  to  suggest  in  the 
way  of  remedy.  Accordingly,  in  as  few  words  as  she  could 
express  it,  she  told  the  history  of  her  sister's  trial  and  con- 
demnation, and  of  her  own  journey  as  far  as  Newark.  He 
appeared  to  listen  in  the  utmost  agony  of  mind,  yet  repressed 
every  violent  symptom  of  emotion,  whether  by  gesture  or 
sound,  which  might  have  interrupted  the  speaker,  and, 
stretched  on  his  couch  like  the  Mexican  monarch  on  his  bed 
of  live  coals,  only  the  contortions  of  his  cheek,  and  the  quiv- 
ering of  his  limbs,  gave  indication  of  his  sufferings.  To  much 
of  what  she  said  he  listened  with  stifled  groans,  as  if  he  were 
only  hearing  those  miseries  confirmed  whose  fatal  reality  he 
25 


386 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


had  known  before ;  but  when  she  pursued  her  tale  through  the 
circumstances  which  had  interrupted  her  journey,  extreme 
surprise  and  earnest  attention  appeared  to  succeed  to  the 
symptoms  of  remorse  which  he  had  before  exhibited.  He 
questioned  Jeanie  closely  concerning  the  appearance  of  the 
two  men,  and  the  conversation  which  she  had  overheard  be 
tween  the  taller  of  them  and  the  woman. 

When  Jeanie  mentioned  the  old  woman  having  alluded  to 
her  foster-son — "  It  is  too  true, "  he  said ;  "  and  the  source 
from  which  I  derived  food,  when  an  infant,  must  have  com- 
municated to  me  the  wretched — the  fated — propensity  to  vices 
that  were  strangers  in  my  own  family.    But  go  on." 

Jeanie  passed  slightly  over  her  journey  in  company  with 
Madge,  having  no  inclination  to  repeat  what  might  be  the 
effect  of  mere  raving  on  the  part  of  her  companion,  and  there- 
fore her  tale  was  now  closed. 

Young  Staunton  lay  for  a  moment  in  profound  meditation, 
and  at  length  spoke  with  more  composure  than  he  had  yet 
displayed  during  their  interview.  "You  are  a  sensible,  as 
well  as  a  good,  young  woman,  Jeanie  Deans,  and  I  will  tell 
you  more  of  my  story  than  I  have  told  to  any  one.  Story  did 
I  call  it?  it  is  a  tissue  of  folly,  guilt,  and  misery.  But  take 
notice,  I  do  it  because  I  desire  your  confidence  in  return — that 
is,  that  you  will  act  in  this  dismal  matter  by  my  advice  and 
direction.    Therefore  do  I  speak." 

"  I  will  do  what  is  fitting  for  a  sister,  and  a  daughter,  and 
a  Christian  woman  to  do, "  said  Jeanie ;  "  but  do  not  tell  me 
any  of  your  secrets.  It  is  not  good  that  I  should  come  into 
your  counsel,  or  listen  to  the  doctrine  which  causeth  to  err. " 

"  Simple  fool!"  said  the  young  man.  "  Look  at  me.  My 
head  is  not  horned,  my  foot  is  not  cloven,  my  hands  are  not 
garnished  with  talons;  and,  since  I  am  not  the  very  devil 
himself,  what  interest  can  any  one  else  have  in  destroying 
the  hopes  with  which  you  comfort  or  fool  yourself?  Listen 
to  me  patiently,  and  you  will  find  that,  when  you  have  heard 
my  counsel,  you  may  go  to  the  seventh  heaven  with  it  in  your 
pocket,  if  you  have  a  mind,  and  not  feel  yourself  an  ounce 
heavier  in  the  ascent." 


THE  HEAET  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


At  the  risk  of  being  somewhat  heavy,  as  explanations  usu- 
ally prove,  we  must  here  endeavour  to  combine  into  a  distinct 
narrative  information  which  the  invalid  communicated  in  a 
manner  at  once  too  circumstantial,  and  too  much  broken  by 
passion,  to  admit  of  our  giving  his  precise  words.  Part  of 
it,  indeed,  he  read  from  a  manuscript,  which  he  had  perhaps 
drawn  up  for  the  information  of  his  relations  after  his  de- 
cease. 

"  To  make  my  tale  short — this  wretched  hag,  this  Margaret 
Murdockson,  was  the  wife  of  a  favourite  servant  of  my  father; 
she  had  been  my  nurse ;  her  husband  was  dead ;  she  resided 
in  a  cottage  near  this  place ;  she  had  a  daughter  who  grew  up, 
and  was  then  a  beautiful  but  very  giddy  girl ;  her  mother  en- 
deavoured to  promote  her  marriage  with  an  old  and  wealthy 
churl  in  the  neighbourhood.  The  girl  saw  me  frequently; 
she  was  familiar  with  me,  as  our  connexion  seemed  to  permit, 
and  I — in  a  word,  I  wronged  her  cruelly.  It  was  not  so  bad 
as  your  sister 's  business,  but  it  was  sufficiently  villainous;  her 
folly  should  have  been  her  protection.  Soon  after  this  I  was 
sent  abroad.  To  do  my  father  justice,  if  I  have  turned  out  a 
fiend,  it  is  not  his  fault :  he  used  the  best  means.  When  I 
returned,  I  found  the  wretched  mother  and  daughter  had  fall- 
en into  disgrace,  and  were  chased  from  this  country.  My  deep 
share  in  their  shame  and  misery  was  discovered ;  my  father 
used  very  harsh  language ;  we  quarrelled.  I  left  his  house, 
and  led  a  life  of  strange  adventure,  resolving  never  again  to 
see  my  father  or  my  father's  home. 

"And  now  comes  the  story!  Jeanie,  I  put  my  life  into 
your  hands,  and  not  only  my  own  life,  which,  God  knows,  is 
not  worth  saving,  but  the  happiness  of  a  respectable  old  man, 
and  the  honour  of  a  family  of  consideration.  My  love  of  low 
society,  as  such  propensities  as  I  was  cursed  with  are  usually 
termed,  was,  I  think,  of  an  uncommon  kind,  and  indicated  a 
nature  which,  if  not  ■  depraved  by  early  debauchery,  would 
have  been  fit  for  better  things.  I  did  not  so  much  delight  in 
the  wild  revel,  the  low  humour,  the  unconfined  liberty  of  those 
with  whom  I  associated,  as  in  the  spirit  of  adventure,  pres- 
ence of  mind  in  peril,  and  sharpness  of  intellect  which  they 


388 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


displayed  in  prosecuting  their  maraudings  upon  the  revenue, 
or  similar  adventures.  Have  you  looked  round  this  rec- 
tory?   Is  it  not  a  sweet  and  pleasant  retreat?" 

Jeanie,  alarmed  at  this  sudden  change  of  subject,  replied 
in  the  affirmative. 

"Well!  I  wish  it  had  been  ten  thousand  fathoms  under 
ground,  with  its  church-lands,  and  tithes,  and  all  that  belongs 
to  it !  Had  it  not  been  for  this  cursed  rectory,  I  should  have 
been  permitted  to  follow  the  bent  of  my  own  inclinations  and 
the  profession  of  arms,  and  half  the  courage  and  address  that 
I  have  displayed  among  smugglers  and  deer-stealers  would 
have  secured  me  an  honourable  rank  among  my  contempo- 
raries. Why  did  I  not  go  abroad  when  I  left  this  house? 
Why  did  I  leave  it  at  all? — why?  But  it  came  to  that  point 
with  me  that  it  is  madness  to  look  back,  and  misery  to  look 
forward. " 

He  paused,  and  then  proceeded  with  more  composure. 

"  The  chances  of  a  wandering  life  brought  me  unhappily  to 
Scotland  to  embroil  myself  in  worse  and  more  criminal  actions 
than  I  had  yet  been  concerned  in.  It  was  now  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  Wilson,  a  remarkable  man  in  his  station  of  life 
— quiet,  composed,  and  resolute,  firm  in  mind,  and  uncommonly 
strong  in  person,  gifted  with  a  sort  of  rough  eloquence  which 
raised  him  above  his  companions.    Hitherto  I  had  been 

As  dissolute  as  desperate,  yet  through  both 
Were  seen  some  sparkles  of  a  better  hope. 

But  it  was  this  man's  misfortune,  as  well  as  mine,  that,  net- 
withstanding  the  difference  of  our  rank  and  education,  he  ac- 
quired an  extraordinary  and  fascinating  influence  over  me, 
which  I  can  only  account  for  by  the  calm  determination  of 
his  character  being  superior  to  the  less  sustained  impetuosity 
of  mine.  Where  he  led,  I  felt  myself  bound  to  follow ;  and 
strange  was  the  courage  and  address  which  he  displayed  in  his 
pursuits.  While  I  was  engaged  in  desperate  adventures,  un- 
der so  strange  and  dangerous  a  preceptor,  I  became  acquainted 
with  your  unfortunate  sister  at  some  sports  of  the  young  peo- 
ple in  the  suburbs,  which  she  frequented  by  stealth ;  and  her 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  3S0 


ruin  proved  an  interlude  to  the  tragic  scenes  in  which  I  was 
now  deeply  engaged.  Yet  this  let  me  say :  the  villainy  was 
not  premeditated,  and  I  was  firmly  resolved  to  do  her  all  the 
justice  which  marriage  could  do,  so  soon  as  I  should  be  able 
to  extricate  myself  from  my  unhappy  course  of  life,  and  em- 
brace some  one  more  suited  to  my  birth.  I  had  wild  visions — 
visions  of  conducting  her  as  if  to  some  poor  retreat,  and  in- 
troducing her  at  once  to  rank  and  fortune  she  ever  dreamt 
of.  A  friend,  at  my  request,  attempted  a  negotiation  with  my 
father,  which  was  protracted  for  some  time,  and  renewed  at 
different  intervals.  At  length,  and  just  when  I  expected  my 
father's  pardon,  he  learned  by  some  means  or  other  my  infamy, 
painted  in  even  exaggerated  colours,  which  was,  God  knows, 
unnecessary.  He  wrote  me  a  letter — how  it  found  me  out  I 
know  not — inclosing  me  a  sum  of  money,  and  disowning  me 
for  ever.  I  became  desperate — I  became  frantic — I  readily 
joined  Wilson  in  a  perilous  smuggling  adventure  in  which  we 
miscarried,  and  was  willingly  blinded  by  his  logic  to  consider 
the  robbery  of  the  officer  of  the  customs  in  Fife  as  a  fair  and 
honourable  reprisal.  Hitherto  I  had  observed  a  certain  line 
in  my  criminality,  and  stood  free  of  assaults  upon  personal 
property,  but  now  I  felt  a  wild  pleasure  in  disgracing  myself 
as  much  as  possible. 

"  The  plunder  was  no  object  to  me.  I  abandoned  that  to 
my  comrades,  and  only  asked  the  post  of  danger.  I  remem- 
ber well,  that  when  I  stood  with  my  drawn  sword  guarding 
the  door  while  they  committed  the  felony,  I  had  not  a  thought 
of  my  own  safety.  I  was  only  meditating  on  my  sense  of 
supposed  wrong  from  my  family,  my  impotent  thirst  of  ven- 
geance, and  how  it  would  sound  in  the  haughty  ears  of  the 
family  of  Willingham,  that  one  of  their  descendants,  and  the 
heir-apparent  of  their  honours,  should  perish  by  the  hands  of 
the  hangman  for  robbing  a  Scottish  gauger  of  a  sum  not  equal 
to  one-fifth  part  of  the  money  I  had  in  my  pocket-book.  We 
were  taken;  I  expected  no  less.  We  were  condemned;  that 
also  I  looked  for.  But  death,  as  he  approached  nearer,  looked 
grimly ;  and  the  recollection  of  your  sister's  destitute  condi- 
tion determined  me  on  an  effort  to  save  my  life.    I  forgot  to 


390 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


tell  you  that  in  Edinburgh  I  again  met  the  woman  Murdockson 
and  her  daughter.  She  had  followed  the  camp  when  young, 
and  had  now,  under  pretence  of  a  trifling  traffic,  resumed  pred- 
atory habits,  with  which  she  had  already  been  too  familiar. 
Our  first  meeting  was  stormy ;  but  I  was  liberal  of  what  money 
I  had,  and  she  forgot,  or  seemed  to  forget,  the  injury  her 
daughter  had  received.  The  unfortunate  girl  herself  seemed 
hardly  even  to  know  her  seducer,  far  less  to  retain  any  sense 
of  the  injury  she  had  received.  Her  mind  is  totally  alienated, 
which,  according  to  her  mother's  account,  is  sometimes  the 
consequence  of  an  unfavourable  confinement.  But  it  was  my 
doing.  Here  was  another  stone  knitted  round  my  neck  to 
sink  me  into  the  pit  of  perdition.  Every  look,  every  word  of 
this  poor  creature,  her  false  spirits,  her  imperfect  recollec- 
tions, her  allusions  to  things  which  she  had  forgotten,  but 
which  were  recorded  in  my  conscience,  were  stabs  of  a  pon- 
iard. Stabs  did  I  say?  they  were  tearing  with  hot  pincers, 
and  scalding  the  raw  wound  with  burning  sulphur ;  they  were 
to  be  endured,  however,  and  they  were  endured.  I  return  to 
my  prison  thoughts. 

"  It  was  not  the  least  miserable  of  them  that  your  sister's 
time  approached.  I  knew  her  dread  of  you  and  of  her  father. 
She  often  said  she  would  die  a  thousand  deaths  ere  you  should 
know  her  shame ;  yet  her  confinement  must  be  provided  for. 
I  knew  this  woman  Murdockson  was  an  infernal  hag,  but  I 
thought  she  loved  me,  and  that  money  would  make  her  true. 
She  had  procured  a  file  for  Wilson  and  a  spring-saw  for  me ; 
and  she  undertook  readily  to  take  charge  of  Effie  during  her 
illness,  in  which  she  had  skill  enough  to  give  the  necessary 
assistance.  I  gave  her  the  money  which  my  father  had  sent 
me.  It  was  settled  that  she  should  receive  Effie  into  her 
house  in  the  mean  time,  and  wait  for  farther  directions  from 
me,  when  I  should  effect  my  escape.  I  communicated  this 
purpose,  and  recommended  the  old  hag  to  poor  Effie  by  a  let- 
ter, in  which  I  recollect  that  I  endeavoured  to  support  the 
character  of  Macheath  under  condemnation — a  fine,  gay,  bold- 
faced ruffian,  who  is  game  to  the  last.  Such,  and  so  wretched- 
ly poor,  was  my  ambition !    Yet  I  had  resolved  to  forsake  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


391 


courses  I  had  been  engaged  in,  should  I  be  so  fortunate  as  to 
escape  the  gibbet.  My  design  was  to  marry  your  sister  and 
go  over  to  the  West  Indies.  I  had  still  a  considerable  sum  of 
money  left,  and  I  trusted  to  be  able,  in  one  way  or  other,  to 
provide  for  myself  and  my  wife. 

"  We  made  the  attempt  to  escape,  and  by  the  obstinacy  of 
Wilson,  who  insisted  upon  going  first,  it  totally  miscarried. 
The  undaunted  and  self-denied  manner  in  which  he  sacrificed 
himself  to  redeem  his  error, .  and  accomplish  my  escape  from 
the  Tolbooth  Church,  you  must  have  heard  of :  all  Scotland 
rang  with  it.  It  was  a  gallant  and  extraordinary  deed.  All 
men  spoke  of  it;  all  men,  even  those  who  most  condemned 
the  habits  and  crimes  of  this  self- devoted  man,  praised  the 
heroism  of  his  friendship.  I  have  many  vices,  but  cowardice 
or  want  of  gratitude  are  none  of  the  number.  I  resolved  to 
requite  his  generosity,  and  even  your  sister's  safety  became  a 
secondary  consideration  with  me  for  the  time.  To  effect  Wil- 
son's liberation  was  my  principal  object,  and  I  doubted  not  to 
find  the  means. 

"  Yet  I  did  not  forget  Effie  neither.  The  bloodhounds  of 
the  law  were  so  close  after  me,  that  I  dared  not  trust  myself 
near  any  of  my  old  haunts ;  but  Murdockson  met  me  by  ap- 
pointment, and  informed  me  that  your  sister  had  happily  been 
delivered  of  a  boy.  I  charged  the  hag  to  keep  her  patient's 
mind  easy,  and  let  her  want  for  nothing  that  money  could  pur- 
chase, and  I  retreated  to  Eife,  where,  among  my  old  associates 
of  Wilson's  gang,  I  hid  myself  in  those  places  of  concealment 
where  the  men  engaged  in  that  desperate  trade  are  used  to 
find  security  for  themselves  and  their  uncustomed  goods. 
Men  who  are  disobedient  both  to  human  and  divine  laws  are 
not  always  insensible  to  the  claims  of  courage  and  generosity. 
We  were  assured  that  the  mob  of  Edinburgh,  strongly  moved 
with  the  hardships  of  Wilson's  situation  and  the  gallantry  of 
his  conduct,  would  back  any  bold  attempt  that  might  be  made 
to  rescue  him  even  from  the  foot  of  the  gibbet.  Desperate  as 
the  attempt  seemed,  upon  my  declaring  myself  ready  to  lead 
the  onset  on  the  guard,  I  found  no  want  of  followers  who  en- 
gaged to  stand  by  me,  and  returned  to  Lothian,  soon  joined 


392 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


by  some  steady  associates,  prepared  to  act  whenever  the  occa- 
sion might  require. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  I  should  have  rescued  him  from  the  very 
noose  that  dangled  over  his  head, "  he  continued  with  anima- 
tion, which  seemed  a  flash  of  the  interest  which  he  had  taken 
in  such  exploits ;  "  but  amongst  other  precautions,  the  magis- 
trates had  taken  one, — suggested,  as  we  afterwards  learned,  by 
the  unhappy  wretch  Porteous — which  effectually  disconcerted 
my  measures.  They  anticipated  by  half  an  hour  the  ordinary 
period  for  execution ;  and,  as  it  had  been  resolved  amongst  us 
that,  for  fear  of  observation  from  the  officers  of  justice,  we 
should  not  show  ourselves  upon  the  street  until  the  time  of 
action  approached,  it  followed  that  all  was  over  before  our  at- 
tempt at  a  rescue  commenced.  It  did  commence,  however,  and 
I  gained  the  scaffold  and  cut  the  rope  with  my  own  hand.  It 
was  too  late !  The  bold,  stout-hearted,  generous  criminal  was 
no  more,  and  vengeance  was  all  that  remained  to  us — a  ven- 
geance, as  I  then  thought,  doubly  due  from  my  hand,  to  whom 
Wilson  had  given  life  and  liberty  when  he  could  as  easily  have 
secured  his  own." 

"  Oh,  sir, "  said  Jeanie,  "  did  the  Scripture  never  come  into 
your  mind,  'Vengeance  is  mine,  and  I  will  repay  it'  ?" 

"  Scripture !  Why,  I  had  not  opened  a  Bible  for  five  years, " 
answered  Staunton. 

"Wae's  me,  sirs,"  said  Jeanie,  "and  a  minister's  son 
too!" 

"  It  is  natural  for  you  to  say  so ;  yet  do  not  interrupt  me, 
but  let  me  finish  my  most  accursed  history.  The  beast,  Por- 
teous, who  kept  firing  on  the  people  long  after  it  had  ceased 
to  be  necessary,  became  the  object  of  their  hatred  for  having 
overdone  his  duty,  and  of  mine  for  having  done  it  too  well. 
We — that  is,  I  and  the  other  determined  friends  of  Wilson 
— resolved  to  be  avenged;  but  caution  was  necessary.  I 
thought  I  had  been  marked  by  one  of  the  officers,  and  there- 
fore continued  to  lurk  about  the  vicinity  of  Edinburgh,  but 
without  daring  to  venture  within  the  walls.  At  length  I  vis- 
ited, at  the  hazard  of  my  life,  the  place  where  I  hoped  to  find 
my  future  wife  and  my  son;  they  were  both  gone.  Dame 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


393 


Murdockson  informed  me  that,  so  soon  as  Effie  heard  of  the 
miscarriage  of  the  attempt  to  rescue  Wilson,  and  the  hot  pur- 
suit after  me,  she  fell  into  a  brain  fever ;  and  that  being  one 
day  obliged  to  go  out  on  some  necessary  business  and  leave 
her  alone,  she  had  taken  that  opportunity  to  escape,  and  she  had 
not  seen  her  since.  I  loaded  her  with  reproaches,  to  which 
she  listened  with  the  most  provoking  and  callous  composure ; 
for  it  is  one  of  her  attributes  that,  violent  and  fierce  as  she  is 
upon  most  occasions,  there  are  some  in  which  she  shows  the 
most  imperturbable  calmness.  I  threatened  her  with  justice; 
she  said  I  had  more  reason  to  fear  justice  than  she  had.  I 
felt  she  was  right,  and  was  silenced.  I  threatened  her  with 
vengeance;  she  replied  in  nearly  the  same  words,  that,  to 
judge  by  injuries  received,  I  had  more  reason  to  fear  her  ven- 
geance than  she  to  dread  mine.  She  was  again  right,  and  I 
was  left  without  an  answer.  I  flung  myself  from  her  in  in- 
dignation, and  employed  a  comrade  to  make  inquiry  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  St.  Leonard's  concerning  your  sister;  but 
ere  I  received  his  answers  the  opening  quest  of  a  well-scented 
terrier  of  the  law  drove  me  from  the  vicinity  of  Edinburgh  to 
a  more  distant  and  secluded  place  of  concealment.  A  secret 
and  trusty  emissary  at  length  brought  me  the  account  of  Por- 
teous's  condemnation,  and  of  your  sister's  imprisonment  on  a 
criminal  charge;  thus  astounding  one  of  mine  ears,  while  he 
gratified  the  other. 

"  I  again  ventured  to  the  Pleasance — again  charged  Mur- 
dockson  with  treachery  to  the  unfortunate  Effie  and  her  child, 
though  I  could  conceive  no  reason,  save  that  of  appropriating 
the  whole  of  the  money  I  had  lodged  with  her.  Your  narra- 
tive throws  light  on  this,  and  shows  another  motive,  not  less 
powerful  because  less  evident — -the  desire  of  wreaking  ven- 
geance on  the  seducer  of  her  daughter,  the  destroyer  at  once 
of  her  reason  and  reputation.  Great  God!  how  I  wish  that, 
instead  of  the  revenge  she  made  choice  of,  she  had  delivered 
me  up  to  the  cord!" 

"  But  what  account  did  the  wretched  woman  give  of  Effie 
and  the  bairn?"  said  Jeanie,  who,  during  this  long  and  agi- 
tating narrative,  had  firmness  and  discernment  enough  to  keep 


394 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


her  eye  on  such  points  as  might  throw  light  on  her  sister's 
misfortunes. 

"  She  would  give  none, "  said  Staunton ;  "  she  said  the  moth- 
er made  a  moonlight  flitting  from  her  house,  with  the  infant 
in  her  arms;  that  she  had  never  seen  either  of  them  since; 
that  the  lass  might  have  thrown  the  child  into  the  North  Loch 
or  the  Quarry  Holes,  for  what  she  knew,  and  it  was  like  enough 
she  had  done  so." 

"  And  how  came  you  to  believe  that  she  did  not  speak  the 
fatal  truth?"  said  Jeanie,  trembling. 

"  Because,  on  this  second  occasion,  I  saw  her  daughter,  and 
I  understood  from  her  that,  in  fact,  the  child  had  been  re- 
moved or  destroyed  during  the  illness  of  the  mother.  But  all 
knowledge  to  be  got  from  her  is  so  uncertain  and  indirect, 
that  I  could  not  collect  any  farther  circumstances.  Only  the 
diabolical  character  of  old  Murdockson  makes  me  augur  the 
worst. " 

"  The  last  account  agrees  with  that  given  by  my  poor  sis- 
ter," said  Jeanie;  "but  gang  on  wi'  your  ain  tale,  sir." 

"  Of  this  I  am  certain, "  said  Staunton,  "  that  Effie,  in  her 
senses,  and  with  her  knowledge,  never  injured  living  crea- 
ture. But  what  could  I  do  in  her  exculpation?  Nothing; 
and  therefore  my  whole  thoughts  were  turned  towards  her 
safety.  I  was  under  the  cursed  necessity  of  suppressing  my 
feelings  towards  Murdockson:  my  life  was  in  the  hag's  hand 
— that  I  cared  not  for ;  but  on  my  life  hung  that  of  your  sis- 
ter. I  spoke  the  wretch  fair ;  I  appeared  to  confide  in  her ; 
and  to  me,  so  far  as  I  was  personally  concerned,  she  gave 
proofs  of  extraordinary  fidelity.  I  was  at  first  uncertain  what 
measures  I  ought  to  adopt  for  your  sister's  liberation,  when 
the  general  rage  excited  among  the  citizens  of  Edinburgh  on 
account  of  the  reprieve  of  Porteous,  suggested  to  me  the  dar- 
ing idea  of  forcing  the  jail,  and  at  once  carrying  off  your  sister 
from  the  clutches  of  the  law,  and  bringing  to  condign  punish- 
ment a  miscreant  who  had  tormented  the  unfortunate  Wilson 
even  in  the  hour  of  death,  as  if  he  had  been  a  wild  Indian 
taken  captive  by  an  hostile  tribe.  I  flung  myself  among  the 
multitude  in  the  moment  of  fermentation;  so  did  others  among 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


395 


"Wilson's  mates,  who  had,  like  me,  been  disappointed  in  the 
hope  of  glutting  their  eyes  with  Porteous's  execution.  All 
was  organised,  and  I  was  chosen  for  the  captain.  I  felt  not 
— I  do  not  now  feel — compunction  for  what  was  to  be  done, 
and  has  since  been  executed. " 

"  Oh,  God  forgive  ye,  sir,  and  bring  ye  to  a  better  sense  of 
your  ways!"  exclaimed  Jeanie,  in  horror  at  the  avowal  of  such 
violent  sentiments. 

"  Amen, "  replied  Staunton,  "  if  my  sentiments  are  wrong. 
But  I  repeat  that,  although  willing  to  aid  the  deed,  I  could 
have  wished  them  to  have  chosen  another  leader;  because  I 
foresaw  that  the  great  and  general  duty  of  the  night  would 
interfere  with  the  assistance  which  I  proposed  to  render  Effie. 
I  gave  a  commission,  however,  to  a  trusty  friend  to  protect 
her  to  a  place  of  safety,  so  soon  as  the  fatal  procession  had. 
left  the  jail.  But  for  no  persuasions  which  I  could  use  in  the 
hurry  of  the  moment,  or  which  my  comrade  employed  at  more 
length,  after  the  mob  had  taken  a  different  direction,  could  the 
unfortunate  girl  be  prevailed  upon  to  leave  the  prison.  His 
arguments  were  all  wasted  upon  the  infatuated  victim,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  leave  her  in  order  to  attend  to  his  own  safety. 
Such  was  his  account ;  but  perhaps  he  persevered  less  steadily 
in  his  attempt  to  persuade  her  than  I  would  have  done." 

"Effie  was  right  to  remain,"  said  Jeanie;  "and  I  love  her 
the  better  for  it." 

"  Why  will  you  say  so?"  said  Staunton. 

"  You  cannot  understand  my  reasons,  sir,  if  I  should  render 
them, "  answered  Jeanie,  composedly ;  "  they  that  thirst  for 
the  blood  of  their  enemies  have  no  taste  for  the  well-spring 
of  life." 

"  My  hopes, "  said  Staunton,  "  were  thus  a  second  time  dis- 
appointed. My  next  efforts  were  to  bring  her  through  her 
trial  by  means  of  yourself.  How  I  urged  it,  and  where,  you 
cannot  have  forgotten.  I  do  not  blame  you  for  your  refusal ; 
it  was  founded,  I  am  convinced,  on  principle,  and  not  on  indif- 
ference to  your  sister's  fate.  For  me,  judge  of  me  as  a  man 
frantic;  I  knew  not  what  hand  to  turn  to,  and  all  my  efforts 
were  unavailing.    In  this  condition,  and  close  beset  on  all 


396 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


sides,  I  thought  of  what  might  be  done  by  means  of  my  fam- 
ily and  their  influence.  I  fled  from  Scotland;  I  reached  this 
place ;  my  miserably  wasted  and  unhappy  appearance  procured 
me  from  my  father  that  pardon  which  a  parent  finds  it  so  hard 
to  refuse,  even  to  the  most  undeserving  son.  And  here  I  have 
awaited  in  anguish  of  mind,  which  the  condemned  criminal 
might  envy,  the  event  of  your  sister's  trial." 

"  Without  taking  any  steps  for  her  relief?"  said  Jeanie. 

"  To  the  last  I  hoped  her  case  might  terminate  more  favour- 
ably ;  and  it  is  only  two  days  since  that  the  fatal  tidings  reached 
me.  My  resolution  was  instantly  taken.  I  mounted  my  best 
horse  with  the  purpose  of  making  the  utmost  haste  to  London, 
and  there  compounding  with  Sir  Robert  Walpole  for  your  sis- 
ter's safety,  by  surrendering  to  him,  in  the  person  of  the  heir 
of  the  family  of  Willingham,  the  notorious  George  Robertson, 
the  accomplice  of  Wilson,  the  breaker  of  the  tolbooth  prison, 
and  the  well-known  leader  of  the  Porteous  mob. " 

"But  would  that  save  my  sister?"  said  Jeanie  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"  It  would,  as  I  should  drive  my  bargain, "  said  Staunton. 
"  Queens  love  revenge  as  well  as  their  subjects.  Little  as  you 
seem  to  esteemit,  it  is  a  poison  which  pleases  all  palates,  from 
the  prince  to  the  peasant.  Prime  ministers  love  no  less  the 
power  of  pleasing  sovereigns  by  gratifying  their  passions.  The 
life  of  an  obscure  village  girl !  Why,  I  might  ask  the  best  of 
the  crown- jewels  for  laying  the  head  of  such  an  insolent  con- 
spiracy at  the  foot  of  her  Majesty,  with  a  certainty  of  being 
gratified.  All  my  other  plans  have  failed,  but  this  could  not. 
Heaven  is  just,  however,  and  would  not  honour  me  with  mak- 
ing this  voluntary  atonement  for  the  injury  I  have  done  your 
sister.  I  had  not  rode  ten  miles,  when  my  horse,  the  best 
and  most  sure-footed  animal  in  this  country,  fell  with  me  on 
a  level  piece  of  road,  as  if  he  had  been  struck  by  a  cannon- 
shot.  I  was  greatly  hurt,  and  was  brought  back  here  in  the 
miserable  condition  in  which  you  now  see  me." 

As  young  Staunton  had  come  to  the  conclusion,  the  servant 
opened  the  door,  and,  with  a  voice  which  seemed  intended 
rather  for  a  signal  than  merely  the  announcing  of  a  visit, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


397 


said :  "  His  Keverence,  sir,  is  coming  upstairs  to  wait  upon 
you. " 

"Eor  God's  sake,  hide  yourself,  Jeanie,"  exclaimed  Staun- 
ton, "in  that  dressing-closet!" 

"  No,  sir, "  said  Jeanie ;  "  as  I  am  here  for  nae  ill,  I  canna 
take  the  shame  of  hiding  my  sell  frae  the  master  o'  the  house." 

"But,  good  Heavens!"  exclaimed  George  Staunton,  "do 
but  consider  " 

Ere  he  could  complete  the  sentence,  his  father  entered  the 
apartment. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

And  now,  will  pardon,  comfort,  kindness,  draw 
The  youth  from  vice  ?  will  honour,  duty,  law  ? 

Crabbe. 

Jeanie  arose  from  her  seat  and  made  her  quiet  reverence 
when  the  elder  Mr.  Staunton  entered  the  apartment.  His  as- 
tonishment was  extreme  at  finding  his  son  in  such  company. 

"I  perceive,  madam,"  he  said,  "I  have  made  a  mistake  re- 
specting you,  and  ought  to  have  left  the  task  of  interrogating 
you,  and  of  righting  your  wrongs,  to  this  young  man,  with 
whom,  doubtless,  you  have  been  formerly  acquainted." 

"It's  unwitting  on  my  part  that  I  am  here,"  said  Jeanie; 
"the  servant  told  me  his  master  wished  to  speak  with  me." 

"There  goes  the  purple  coat  over  my  ears,"  murmured 
Tummas.  "  D — n  her,  why  must  she  needs  speak  the  truth, 
when  she  could  have  as  well  said  anything  else  she  had  a 
mind?" 

"  George,"  said  Mr.  Staunton,  "  if  you  are  still,  as  you  have 
ever  been,  lost  to  all  self-respect,  you  might  at  least  have 
spared  your  father,  and  your  father's  house,  such  a  disgrace- 
ful scene  as  this." 

"Upon  my  life — upon  my  soul,  sir!"  said  George,  throwing 
his  feet  over  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  starting  from  his  recum- 
bent posture. 

"Your  life,  sir!"  interrupted  his  father,  with  melancholy 


398 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


sternness — "what  sort  of  life  has  it  been?  Your  soul!  alas! 
what  regard  have  you  ever  paid  to  it?  Take  care  to  reform 
both  ere  offering  either  as  pledges  of  your  sincerity." 

"  On  my  honour,  sir,  you  do  me  wrong, "  answered  George 
Staunton;  "I  have  been  all  that  you  can  call  me  that's  bad, 
but  in  the  present  instance  you  do  me  injustice.  By  my 
honour,  you  do!" 

"  Your  honour!"  said  his  father,  and  turned  from  him,  with 
a  look  of  the  most  upbraiding  contempt,  to  Jeanie.  "  From 
you,  young  woman,  I  neither  ask  nor  expect  any  explanation; 
but,  as  a  father  alike  and  as  a  clergyman,  I  request  your  de- 
parture from  this  house.  If  your  romantic  story  has  been 
other  than  a  pretext  to  find  admission  into  it — which,  from 
the  society  in  which  you  first  appeared,  I  may  be  permitted- 
to  doubt — you  will  find  a  justice  of  peace  within  two  miles, 
with  whom,  more  properly  than  with  me,  you  may  lodge  yoar 
complaint. w 

"This  shall  not  be,"  said  George  Staunton,  starting  up  to 
his  feet.  "  Sir,  you  are  naturally  kind  and  humane ;  you  shall 
not  become  cruel  and  inhospitable  on  my  account.  Turn  out 
that  eavesdropping  rascal,"  pointing  to  Thomas,  "and  get 
what  hartshorn  drops,  or  what  better  receipt  you  have  against 
fainting,  and  I  will  explain  to  you  in  two  words  the  connexion 
betwixt  this  young  woman  and  me.  She  shall  not  lose  her  fair 
character  through  me.  I  have  done  too  much  mischief  to  her 
family  already,  and  I  know  too  well  what  belongs  to  the  loss 
of  fame." 

"  Leave  the  room,  sir, "  said  the  Eector  to  the  servant ;  and 
when  the  man  had  obeyed,  he  carefully  shut  the  door  behind 
him.  Then  addressing  his  son,  he  said  sternly :  "  Now,  sir, 
what  new  proof  of  your  infamy  have  you  to  impart  to  me?" 

Young  Staunton  was  about  to  speak,  but  it  was  one  of  those 
moments  when  persons  who,  like  Jeanie  Deans,  possess  the 
advantage  of  a  steady  courage  and  unruffled  temper,  can  as- 
sume the  superiority  over  more  ardent  but  less  determined 
spirits. 

"Sir,"  she  said  to  the  elder  Staunton,  "ye  have  an  un- 
doubted right  to  ask  your  ain  son  to  render  a  reason  of  his 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


399 


conduct.  But  respecting  me,  I  am  but  a  wayfaring  traveller, 
no  ways  obligated  or  indebted  to  you,  unless  it  bo  for  the  meal 
of  meat,  which,  in  my  ain  country,  is  willingly  gien  by  rich  or 
poor,  according  to  their  ability,  to  those  who  need  it ;  and  for 
which,  forbye  that,  I  am  willing  to  make  payment,  if  1  didna 
think  it  would  be  an  affront  to  offer  siller  in  a  house  like  this, 
only  I  dinna  ken  the  fashions  of  the  country. " 

"This  is  all  very  well,  young  woman,"  said  the  Eector,  a 
good  deal  surprised,  and  unable  to  conjecture  whether  to  im- 
pute Jeanie' s  language  to  simplicity  or  impertinence — "this 
may  be  all  very  well,  but  let  me  bring  it  to  a  point.  Why  do 
you  stop  this  young  man's  mouth,  and  prevent  his  communi- 
cating to  his  father  and  his  best  friend  an  explanation,  since 
he  says  he  has  one,  of  circumstances  which  seem  in  themselves 
not  a  little  suspicious?" 

"  He  may  tell  of  his  ain  affairs  what  he  likes, "  answered 
Jeanie ;  "  but  my  family  and  friends  have  nae  right  to  hae 
ony  stories  told  anent  them  without  their  express  desire ;  and, 
as  they  canna  be  here  to  speak  for  themselves,  I  entreat  ye 
wadna  ask  Mr.  George  Eob — I  mean  Staunton,  or  whatever 
his  name  is — ony  questions  anent  me  or  my  folk ;  for  I  maun 
be  free  to  tell  you,  that  he  will  neither  have  the  bearing  of  a 
Christian  or  a  gentleman  if  he  answers  you  against  my  express 
desire." 

"This  is  the  most  extraordinary  thing  I  ever  met  with," 
said  the  Eector,  as,  after  fixing  his  eyes  keenly  on  the  placid 
yet  modest  countenance  of  Jeanie,  he  turned  them  suddenly 
upon  his  son.    "  What  have  you  to  say,  sir?" 

"  That  I  feel  I  have  been  too  hasty  in  my  promise,  sir, " 
answered  George  Staunton.  "I  have  no  title  to  make  any 
communications  respecting  the  affairs  of  this  young  person's 
family  without  her  assent." 

The  elder  Mr.  Staunton  turned  his  eyes  from  one  to  the 
other  with  marks  of  surprise. 

"This  is  more,  and  worse,  I  fear,"  he  said,  addressing  his 
son,  "  than  one  of  your  frequent  and  disgraceful  connexions. 
I  insist  upon  knowing  the  mystery." 

"  I  have  already  said,  sir, "  replied  his  son,  rather  sullenly, 


400 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  that  I  have  no  title  to  mention  the  affairs  of  this  young 
woman's  family  without  her  consent." 

"And  I  hae  nae  mysteries  to  explain,  sir,"  said  Jeanie, 
"  but  only  to  pray  you,  as  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel  and  a  gen- 
tleman, to  permit  me  to  go  safe  to  the  next  public-house  on 
the  Lunnon  road." 

"I  shall  take  care  of  your  safety,"  said  young  Staunton; 
"you  need  ask  that  favour  from  no  one." 

"Do  you  say  so  before  my  face?"  said  the  justly  incensed 
father.  "  Perhaps,  sir,  you  intend  to  fill  up  the  cup  of  dis- 
obedience and  profligacy  by  forming  a  low  and  disgraceful 
marriage?    But  let  me  bid  you  beware." 

"  If  you  were  feared  for  sic  a  thing  happening  wi'  me,  sir, " 
said  Jeanie,  "  I  can  only  say,  that  not  for  all  the  land  that 
lies  between  the  twa  ends  of  the  rainbow  wad  I  be  the  woman 
that  should  wed  your  son." 

"  There  is  something  very  singular  in  all  this,"  said  the  elder 
Staunton;  "follow  me  into  the  next  room,  young  woman." 

"Hear  me  speak  first,"  said  the  young  man.  "I  have  but 
one  word  to  say.  I  confide  entirely  in  your  prudence ;  tell  my 
father  as  much  or  as  little  of  these  matters  as  you  will,  he 
shall  know  neither  more  nor  less  from  me." 

His  father  darted  to  him  a  glance  of  indignation,  which 
softened  into  sorrow  as  he  saw  him  sink  down  on  the  couch, 
exhausted  with  the  scene  he  had  undergone.  He  left  the 
apartment,  and  Jeanie  followed  him,  George  Staunton  raising 
himself  as  she  passed  the  doorway,  and  pronouncing  the  word 
"Kemember!"  in  a  tone  as  monitory  as  it  was  uttered  by 
Charles  L  upon  the  scaffold.  The  elder  Staunton  led  the  way 
into  a  small  parlour  and  shut  the  door. 

"  Young  woman, "  said  he,  "  there  is  something  in  your  face 
and  appearance  that  marks  both  sense  and  simplicity,  and,  if 
I  am  not  deceived,  innocence  also.  Should  it  be  otherwise,  I 
can  only  say,  you  are  the  most  accomplished  hypocrite  I  have 
ever  seen.  I  ask  to  know  no  secret  that  you  have  unwilling- 
ness to  divulge,  least  of  all  those  which  concern  my  son.  His 
conduct  has  given  me  too  much  unhappiness  to  permit  me  to 
hope  comfort  or  satisfaction  from  him.    If  you  are  such  as  I 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


401 


suppose  you,  believe  me,  that  whatever  unhappy  circum- 
stances may  have  connected  you  with  George  Staunton,  the 
sooner  you  break  them  through  the  better." 

"  I  think  I  understand  your  meaning,  sir, "  replied  J eanie ; 
"  and  as  ye  are  sae  frank  as  to  speak  o?  the  young  gentleman 
in  sic  a  way,  I  must  needs  say  that  it  is  but  the  second  time 
of  my  speaking  wi?  him  in  our  lives,  and  what  I  hae  heard 
frae  him  on  these  twa  occasions  has  been  such  that  I  never 
wish  to  hear  the  like  again." 

"  Then  it  is  your  real  intention  to  leave  this  part  of  the 
country,  and  proceed  to  London?"  said  the  Rector. 

"  Certainly,  sir ;  for  I  may  say,  in  one  sense,  that  the  avenger 
of  blood  is  behind  me ;  and  if  I  were  but  assured  against  mis- 
chief by  the  way  " 

"I  have  made  inquiry,"  said  the  clergyman,  "after  the  sus- 
picious characters  you  described.  They  have  left  their  place 
of  rendezvous ;  but,  as  they  may  be  lurking  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  as  you  say  you  have  special  reason  to  apprehend 
violence  from  them,  I  will  put  you  under  the  charge  of  a 
steady  person,  who  will  protect  you  as  far  as  Stamford,  and 
see  you  into  a  light  coach,  which  goes  from  thence  to  London. " 

"A  coach  is  not  for  the  like  of  me,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  to 
whom  the  idea  of  a  stage-coach  was  unknown,  as  indeed,  they 
were  then  only  used  in  the  neighbourhood  of  London. 

Mr.  Staunton  briefly  explained  that  she  would  find  that 
mode  of  conveyance  more  commodious,  cheaper,  and  more  safe 
than  travelling  on  horseback.  She  expressed  her  gratitude 
with  so  much  singleness  of  heart,  that  he  was  induced  to  ask 
her  whether  she  wanted  the  pecuniary  means  of  prosecuting 
her  journey.  She  thanked  him,  but  said  she  had  enough  for 
her  purpose ;  and,  indeed,  she  had  husbanded  her  stock  with 
great  care.  This  reply  served  also  to  remove  some  doubts, 
which  naturally  enough  still  floated  in  Mr.  Staunton's  mind, 
respecting  her  character  and  real  purpose,  and  satisfied  him, 
at  least,  that  money  did  not  enter  into  her  scheme  of  decep- 
tion, if  an  impostor  she  should  prove.  He  next  requested  to 
know  what  part  of  the  city  she  wished  to  go  to. 

"To  a  very  decent  merchant,  a  cousin  o'  my  ain,  a  Mrs. 
26 


402 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Glass,  sir,  that  sells  snuff  and  tobacco,  at  the  sign  o'  the 
Thistle,  somegate  in  the  town." 

Jeanie  communicated  this  intelligence  with  a  feeling  that 
a  connexion  so  respectable  ought  to  give  her  consequence  in 
the  eyes  .of  Mr.  Staunton ;  and  she  was  a  good  deal  surprised 
when  he  answered :  "  And  is  this  woman  your  only  acquaint- 
ance in  London,  my  poor  girl?  and  have  you  really  no  better 
knowledge  where  she  is  to  be  found?" 

"  I  was  gaun  to  see  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  forbye  Mrs.  Glass," 
said  Jeanie ;  "  and  if  your  honour  think  it  would  be  best  to  go 
there  first,  and  get  some  of  his  Grace's  folk  to  show  me  my 
cousin's  shop  " 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  any  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle' s  peo- 
ple?" said  the  Rector. 

"No,  sir." 

"  Her  brain  must  be  something  touched  after  all,  or  it  would 
be  impossible  for  her  to  rely  on  such  introductions.  Well," 
said  he  aloud,  "I  must  not  inquire  into  the  cause  of  your 
journey,  and  so  I  cannot  be  fit  to  give  you  advice  how  to  man- 
age it.  But  the  landlady  of  the  house  where  the  coach  stops 
is  a  very  decent  person ;  and  as  I  use  her  house  sometimes,  I 
will  give  you  a  recommendation  to  her." 

Jeanie  thanked  him  for  his  kindness  with  her  best  courtesy, 
and  said:  "  That  with  his  honour's  line,  and  ane  from  worthy 
Mrs.  Bickerton,  that  keeps  the  Seven  Stars  at  York,  she  did 
not  doubt  to  be  well  taken  out  in  Lunnon." 

"  And  now, "  said  he,  "  I  presume  you  will  be  desirous  to  set 
out  immediately." 

"  If  I  had  been  in  an  inn,  sir,  or  any  suitable  resting-place, " 
answered  Jeanie,  "  I  wad  not  have  presumed  to  use  the  Lord's 
day  for  travelling;  but  as  I  am  on  a  journey  of  mercy,  I  trust 
my  doing  so  will  not  be  imputed." 

"  You  may,  if  you  choose,  remain  with  Mrs.  Dalton  for  the 
evening ;  but  I  desire  you  will  have  no  further  correspondence 
with  my  son,  who  is  not  a  proper  counsellor  for  a  person  of 
your  age,  whatever  your  difficulties  may  be." 

"Your  honour  speaks  ower  truly  in  that,"  said  Jeanie;  "it 
was  not  with  my  will  that  I  spoke  wi'  him  just  now,  and — not 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


403 


to  wish  the  gentleman  ony  thing  but  gude — I  never  wish  to 
see  him  between  the  een  again/' 

"If  you  please/'  added  the  Rector,  "as  you  seem  to  be  a 
seriously-disposed  young  woman,  you  may  attend  family  wor- 
ship in  the  hall  this  evening. 

"  I  thank  your  honour,"  said  Jeanie;  "  but  I  am  doubtful  if 
my  attendance  would  be  to  edification." 

"How!"  said  the  Rector;  "so  young,  and  already  unfor- 
tunate enough  to  have  doubts  upon  the  duties  of  religion!" 

"  God  forbid,  sir,"  replied  Jeanie;  "it  is  not  for  that ;  but 
I  have  been  bred  in  the  faith  of  the  suffering  remnant  of  the 
Presbyterian  doctrine  in  Scotland,  and  I  am  doubtful  if  I  can 
lawfully  attend  upon  your  fashion  of  worship,  seeing  it  has 
been  testified  against  by  many  precious  souls  of  our  kirk,  and 
specially  by  my  worthy  father."  

"Well,  my  good  girl,"  said  the  Rector,  with  a  good-hu- 
moured smile,  "  far  be  it  from  me  to  put  any  force  upon  your 
conscience ;  and  yet  you  ought  to  recollect  that  the  same  divine 
grace  dispenses  its  streams  to  other  kingdoms  as  well  as  to 
Scotland.  As  it  is  as  essential  to  our  spiritual  as  water  to  our 
earthly  wants,  its  springs,  various  in  character,  yet  alike  effi- 
cacious in  virtue,  are  to  be  found  in  abundance  throughout 
the  Christian  world." 

"Ah,  but,"  said  Jeanie,  "though  the  waters  may  be  alike, 
yet,  with  your  worship's  leave,  the  blessing  upon  them  may 
not  be  equal.  It  would  have  been  in  vain  for  Naaman  the 
Syrian  leper  to  have  bathed  in  Pharphar  and  Abana,  rivers  of 
Damascus,  when  it  was  only  the  waters  of  Jordan  that  were 
sanctified  for  the  cure." 

"Well,"  said  the  Rector,  "we  will  not  enter  upon  the  great 
debate  betwixt  our  national  churches  at  present.  We  must 
endeavour  to  satisfy  you  that  at  least,  amongst  our  errors,  we 
preserve  Christian  charity,  and  a  desire  to  assist  our  brethren." 

He  then  ordered  Mrs.  Dalton  into  his  presence,  and  consigned 
Jeanie  to  her  particular  charge,  with  directions  to  be  kind  to 
her,  and  with  assurances  that,  early  in  the  morning,  a  trusty 
guide  and  a  good  horse  should  be  ready  to  conduct  her  to 
Stamford.    He  then  took  a  serious  and  dignified,  yet  kind 


404 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


leave  of  her,  wishing  her  full  success  in  the  objects  of  her 
journey,  which  he  said  he  doubted  not  were  laudable,  from 
the  soundness  of  thinking  which  she  had  displayed  in  conver- 
sation. 

Jeanie  was  again  conducted  by  the  housekeeper  to  her  own 
apartment.  But  the  evening  was  not  destined  to  pass  over 
without  further  torment  from  young  Staunton.  A  paper  was 
slipped  into  her  hand  by  the  faithful  Tummas,  which  inti- 
mated his  young  master's  desire,  or  rather  demand,  to  see 
her  instantly,  and  assured  her  he  had  provided  against  inter- 
ruption. 

"  Tell  your  young  master,"  said  Jeanie,  openly,  and  regard- 
less of  all  the  winks  and  signs  by  which  Tummas  strove  to 
make  her  comprehend  that  Mrs.  Dalton  was  not  to  be  admitted 
into  the  secret  of  the  correspondence,  "  that  I  promised  faith- 
fully to  his  worthy  father  that  I  would  not  see  him  again. " 

"  Tummas,"  said  Mrs.  Dalton,  "  I  think  you  might  be  much 
more  creditably  employed,  considering  the  coat  you  wear  and 
the  house  you  live  in,  than  to  be  carrying  messages  between 
your  young  master  and  girls  that  chance  to  be  in  this  house." 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Dalton,  as  to  that,  I  was  hired  to  carry  mes- 
sages, and  not  to  ask  any  questions  about  them;  and  it's  not 
for  the  like  of  me  to  refuse  the  young  gentleman's  bidding,  if 
he  were  a  little  wildish  or  so.  If  there  was  harm  meant, 
there's  no  harm  done,  you  see." 

"However,"  said  Mrs.  Dalton,  "I  gie  you  fair  warning, 
Tummas  Ditton,  that  an  I  catch  thee  at  this  work  again,  his 
Reverence  shall  make  a  clear  house  of  you." 

Tummas  retired,  abashed  and  in  dismay.  The  rest  of  the 
evening  passed  away  without  anything  worthy  of  notice. 

Jeanie  enjoyed  the  comforts  of  a  good  bed  and  a  sound  sleep 
with  grateful  satisfaction,  after  the  perils  and  hardships  of 
the  preceding  day ;  and  such  was  her  fatigue,  that  she  slept 
soundly  until  six  o'clock,  when  she  was  awakened  by  Mrs. 
Dalton,  who  acquainted  her  that  her  guide  and  horse  were 
ready  and  in  attendance.  She  hastily  rose,  and,  after  her 
morning  devotions,  was  soon  ready  to  resume  her  travels. 
The  motherly  care  of  the  housekeeper  had  provided  an  early 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


405 


breakfast,  and,  after  she  had  partaken  of  this  refreshment, 
she  found  herself  safe  seated  on  a  pillion  behind  a  stout 
Lincolnshire  peasant,  who  was,  besides,  armed  with  pistols, 
to  protect  her  against  any  violence  which  might  be  offered. 

They  trudged  on  in  silence  for  a  mile  or  two  along  a  country 
road,  which  conducted  them,  by  hedge  and  gateway,  into  the 
principal  highway,  a  little  beyond  Grantham.  At  length  her 
master  of  the  horse  asked  her  whether  her  name  was  not  Jean, 
or  Jane,  Deans.  She  answered  in  the  affirmative,  with  some 
surprise.  "  Then  here's  a  bit  of  a  note  as  concerns  you,"  said 
the  man,  handing  it  over  his  left  shoulder.  "  It's  from  young 
master,  as  I  judge,  and  every  man  about  Willingham  is  fain 
to  pleasure  him  either  for  love  or  fear ;  for  he'll  come  to  be 
landlord  at  last,  let  them  say  what  they  like." 

Jeanie  broke  the  seal  of  the  note,  which  was  addressed  to 
her,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  You  refuse  to  see  me.  I  suppose  you  are  shocked  at  my 
character ;  but,  in  painting  myself  such  as  I  am,  you  should 
give  me  credit  for  my  sincerity.  I  am,  at  least,  no  hypocrite. 
You  refuse,  however,  to  see  me,  and  your  conduct  may  be 
natural;  but  is  it  wise?  I  have  expressed  my  anxiety  to  re- 
pair your  sister's  misfortunes  at  the  expense  of  my  honour — 
my  family's  honour — my  own  life;  and  you  think  me  too  de- 
based to  be  admitted  even  to  sacrifice  what  I  have  remaining 
of  honour,  fame,  and  life  in  her  cause.  Well,  if  the  offerer 
be  despised,  the  victim  is  still  equally  at  hand;  and  perhaps 
there  may  be  justice  in  the  decree  of  Heaven  that  I  shall  not 
have  the  melancholy  credit  of  appearing  to  make  this  sacrifice 
out  of  my  own  free  good-will.  You,  as  you  have  declined 
my  concurrence,  must  take  the  whole  upon  yourself.  Go, 
then,  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  and,  when  other  arguments  fail 
you,  tell  him  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  bring  to  condign 
punishment  the  most  active  conspirator  in  the  Porteous  mob. 
He  will  hear  you  on  this  topic,  should  he  be  deaf  to  every 
other.  Make  your  own  terms,  for  they  will  be  at  your  own 
making.  You  know  where  I  am  to  be  found ;  and  you  may  be 
assured  I  will  not  give  you  the  dark  side  of  the  hill,  as  at  Mus- 
chat's  Cairn:  I  have  no  thoughts  of  stirring  from  the  house  I 


406 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


was  born  in ;  like  the  hare,  I  shall  be  worried  in  the  seat  I 
started  from.  I  repeat  it — make  your  own  terms.  I  need 
not  remind  you  to  ask  your  sister's  life,  for  that  you  will  do 
of  course;  but  make  terms  of  advantage  for  yourself:  ask 
wealth  and  reward — office  and  income  for  Butler — ask  any- 
thing, you  will  get  anything,  and  all  for  delivering  to  the 
hands  of  the  executioner  a  man  most  deserving  of  his  office — 
one  who,  though  young  in  years,  is  old  in  wickedness,  and 
whose  most  earnest  desire  is,  after  the  storms  of  an  unquiet 
life,  to  sleep  and  be  at  rest. 99 

This  extraordinary  letter  was  subscribed  with  the  initials 
"G.  S." 

J eanie  read  it  over  once  or  twice  with  great  attention,  which 
the  slow  pace  of  the  horse,  as  he  stalked  through  a  deep  lane, 
enabled  her  to  do  with  facility. 

When  she  had  pursued  this  billet,  her  first  employment  was 
to  tear  it  into  as  small  pieces  as  possible,  and  disperse  these 
pieces  in  the  air  by  a  few  at  a  time,  so  that  a  document  con- 
taining so  perilous  a  secret  might  not  fall  into  any  other  per- 
son's hand. 

The  question  how  far,  in  point  of  extremity,  she  was  entitled 
to  save  her  sister's  life  by  sacrificing  that  of  a  person  who, 
though  guilty  towards  the  state,  had  done  her  no  injury, 
formed  the  next  earnest  and  most  painful  subject  of  consider- 
ation. In  one  sense,  indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  denouncing  the 
guilt  of  Staunton,  the  cause  of  her  sister's  errors  and  misfor- 
tunes, would  have  been  an  act  of  just,  and  even  providential, 
retribution.  But  Jeanie,  in  the  strict  and  severe  tone  of  mo- 
rality in  which  she  was  educated,  had  to  consider  not  only  the 
general  aspect  of  a  proposed  action,  but  its  justness  and  fitness 
in  relation  to  the  actor,  before  she  could  be,  according  to  her 
own  phrase,  free  to  enter  upon  it.  What  right  had  she  to 
make  a  barter  between  the  lives  of  Staunton  and  of  Effie,  and 
to  sacrifice  the  one  for  the  safety  of  the  other?  His  guilt — 
that  guilt  for  which  he  was  amenable  to  the  laws — was  a 
crime  against  the  public  indeed,  but  it  was  not  against  her. 

Neither  did  it  seem  to  her  that  his  share  in  the  death  of 
Porteous,  though  her  mind  revolted  at  the  idea  of  using  vio- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


407 


lence  to  any  one,  was  in  the  relation  of  a  common  murder, 
against  the  perpetrator  of  which  every  one  is  called  to  aid  the 
public  magistrate.  That  violent  action  was  blended  with  many 
circumstances  which,  in  the  eyes  of  those  of  Jeanie' s  rank  in 
life,  if  they  did  not  altogether  deprive  it  of  the  character  of 
guilt,  softened,  at  least,  its  most  atrocious  features.  The  anx- 
iety of  the  government  to  obtain  conviction  of  some  of  the 
offenders  had  but  served  to  increase  the  public  feeling  which 
connected  the  action,  though  violent  and  irregular,  with  the 
idea  of  ancient  national  independence.  The  rigorous  procedure 
adopted  or  proposed  against  the  city  of  Edinburgh,  the  ancient 
metropolis  of  Scotland,  the  extremely  unpopular  and  injudi- 
cious measure  of  compelling  the  Scottish  clergy,  contrary 
to  their  principles  and  sense  of  duty,  to  promulgate  from  the 
pulpit  the  reward  offered  for  the  discovery  of  the  perpetrators 
of  this  slaughter,  had  produced  on  the  public  mind  the  oppo- 
site consequences  from  what  were  intended;  and  Jeanie  felt 
conscious  that,  whoever  should  lodge  information  concerning 
that  event,  and  for  whatsoever  purpose  it  might  be  done,  it 
would  be  considered  as  an  act  of  treason  against  the  indepen- 
dence of  Scotland.  With  the  fanaticism  of  the  Scotch  Presby- 
terians there  was  always  mingled  a  glow  of  national  feeling, 
and  Jeanie  trembled  at  the  idea  of  her  name  being  handed 
down  to  posterity  with  that  of  the  "fause  Monteath,"  and  one 
or  two  others,  who,  having  deserted  and  betrayed  the  cause  of 
their  country,  are  damned  to  perpetual  remembrance  and  ex- 
ecration among  its  peasantry.  Yet,  to  part  with  EfnVs  life 
once  more,  when  a  wordspoken  might  save  it,  pressed  severely 
on  the  minrl  of  her  ^.ffe^^n^Ts^t^^ 

"The  Lord  support  and  direct  me!"  said  Jeanie,  "for  it 
seems  to  be  His  will  to  try  me  with  difficulties  far  beyond  my 
ain  strength." 

While  this  thought  passed  through  Jeanie' s  mind,  her  guard, 
tired  of  silence,  began  to  show  some  inclination  to  be  communi- 
cative. He  seemed  a  sensible,  steady  peasant,  but  not  hav- 
ing more  delicacy  or  prudence  than  is  common  to  those  in  his 
situation,  he,  of  course,  chose  the  Willingham  family  as  the 
subject  of  his  conversation.    From  this  man  Jeanie  learned 


408 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


some  particulars  of  which  she  had  hitherto  been  ignorant,  and 
which  we  will  briefly  recapitulate  for  the  information  of  the 
reader. 

The  father  of  George  Staunton  had  been  bred  a  soldier,  and, 
during  service  in  the  West  Indies,  had  married  the  heiress  of 
a  wealthy  planter.  By  this  lady  he  had  an  only  child,  George 
Staunton,  the  unhappy  young  man  who  has  been  so  often 
mentioned  in  this  narrative.  He  passed  the  first  part  of  his 
early  youth  under  the  charge  of  a  doting  mother,  and  in  the 
society  of  negro  slaves,  whose  study  it  was  to  gratify  his  every 
caprice.  His  father  was  a  man  of  worth  and  sense ;  but,  as 
he  alone  retained  tolerable  health  among  the  officers  of  the 
regiment  he  belonged  to,  he  was  much  engaged  with  his  duty. 
Besides,  Mrs.  Staunton  was  beautiful  and  wilful,  and  enjoyed 
but  delicate  health ;  so  that  it  was  difficult  for  a  man  of  affec- 
tion, humanity,  and  a  quiet  disposition  to  struggle  with  her 
on  the  point  of  her  over-indulgence  to  an  only  child.  Indeed, 
what  Mr.  Staunton  did  do  towards  counteracting  the  baneful 
efforts  of  his  wife's  system,  only  tended  to  render  it  more  per- 
nicious ;  for  every  restraint  imposed  on  the  boy  in  his  father's 
presence  was  compensated  by  treble  license  during  his  ab- 
sence. So  that  George  Staunton  acquired,  even  in  childhood, 
the  habit  of  regarding  his  father  as  a  rigid  censor,  from  whose 
severity  he  was  desirous  of  emancipating  himself  as  soon  and 
absolutely  as  possible. 

When  he  was  about  ten  years  old,  and  when  his  mind  had 
received  all  the  seed  of  those  evil  weeds  which  afterwards  grew 
apace,  his  mother  died,  and  his  father,  half  heart-broken,  re- 
turned to  England.  To  sum  up  her  imprudence  and  unjustifi- 
able indulgence,  she  had  contrived  to  place  a  considerable  part 
of  her  fortune  at  her  son's  exclusive  control  or  disposal;  in 
consequence  of  which  management,  George  Staunton  had  not 
been  long  in  England  till  he  learned  his  independence,  and 
how  to  abuse  it.  His  father  had  endeavoured  to  rectify  the 
defects  of  his  education  by  placing  him  in  a  well-regulated 
seminary.  But  although  he  showed  some  capacity  for  learn- 
ing, his  riotous  conduct  soon  became  intolerable  to  his  teach- 
ers.   He  found  means  (too  easily  afforded  to  all  youths  who 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


409 


have  certain  expectations)  of  procuring  such  a  command  of 
money  as  enabled  him  to  anticipate  in  boyhood  the  frolics  and 
follies  of  a  more  mature  age,  and,  with  these  accomplishments, 
he  was  returned  on  his  father's  hands  as  a  profligate  boy,  whose 
example  might  ruin  an  hundred. 

The  elder  Mr.  Staunton,  whose  mind,  since  his  wife's  death, 
had  been  tinged  with  a  melancholy  which  certainly  his  son's 
conduct  did  not  tend  to  dispel,  had  taken  orders,  and  was  in- 
ducted by  his  brother,  Sir  William  Staunton,  into  the  family 
living  of  Willingham.  The  revenue  was  a  matter  of  conse- 
quence to  him,  for  he  derived  little  advantage  from  the  estate 
of  his  late  wife ;  and  his  own  fortune  was  that  of  a  younger 
brother. 

He  took  his  son  to  reside  with  him  at  the  rectory ;  but  he 
soon  found  that  his  disorders  rendered  him  an  intolerable  in- 
mate. And  as  the  young  men  of  his  own  rank  would  not  en- 
dure the  purse-proud  insolence  of  the  Creole,  he  fell  into  that 
taste  for  low  society  which  is  worse  than  "  pressing  to  death, 
whipping,  or  hanging."  His  father  sent  him  abroad,  but  he 
only  returned  wilder  and  more  desperate  than  before.  It  is 
true,  this  unhappy  youth  was  not  without  his  good  qualities. 
He  had  lively  wit,  good  temper,  reckless  generosity,  and  man- 
ners which,  while  he  was  under  restraint,  might  pass  well  in 
society.  But  all  these  availed  him  nothing.  He  was  so  well 
acquainted  with  the  turf,  the  gaming-table,  the  cockpit,  and 
every  worse  rendezvous  of  folly  and  dissipation,  that  his  moth- 
er's fortune  was  spent  before  he  was  twenty-one,  and  he  was 
soon  in  debt  and  in  distress.  His  early  history  may  be  con- 
cluded in  the  words  of  our  British  Juvenal,  when  describing 
a  similar  character : 

Headstrong,  determined  in  his  own  career, 

He  thought  reproof  unjust,  and  truth  severe. 

The  soul's  disease  was  to  its  crisis  come, 

He  first  abused  and  then  abjured  his  home  ; 

And  when  he  chose  a  vagabond  to  be, 

He  made  his  shame  his  glory,  "  I'll  be  free  !  "  1 

"And  yet  'tis  pity  on  Measter  George,  too,"  continued  the 
1  Crabbe's  Borough,  Letter  xii.  (Laing). 


410 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


honest  "boor,  "  for  he  has  an  open  hand,  and  winna  let  a  poor 
body  want  an  he  has  it." 

The  virtue  of  profuse  generosity,  by  which,  indeed,  they 
themselves  are  most  directly  advantaged,  is  readily  admitted 
by  the  vulgar  as  a  cloak  for  many  sins. 

At  Stamford  our  heroine  was  deposited  in  safety  by  her 
communicative  guide.  She  obtained  a  place  in  the  coach, 
which,  although  termed  a  light  one,  and  accommodated  with 
no  fewer  than  six  horses,  only  reached  London  on  the.  after- 
noon of  the  second  day.  The  recommendation  of  the  elder 
Mr.  Staunton  procured  Jeanie  a  civil  reception  at  the  inn 
where  the  carriage  stopped,  and,  by  the  aid  of  Mrs.  Bicker- 
ton's  correspondent,  she  found  out  her  friend  and  relative  Mrs. 
Glass,  by  whom  she  was  kindly  received  and  hospitably  enter- 
tained. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

My  name  is  Argyle,  you  may  well  think  it  strange, 
To  live  at  the  court  and  never  to  change. 
 ■ — ~  '  ~  Ballad. 

Few  names  deserve  more  honourable  mention  in  the  histor 
of  Scotland,  during  this  period,  than  that  of  John  Duke  o 
Argyle  and  Greenwich.  His  talents  as  a  statesman  and  a  sol 
dier  were  generally  admitted;  he  was  not  without  ambition 
but  "  without  the  illness  that  attends  it" — without  that  irre 
ularity  of  thought  and  aim  which  often  excites  great  men,  m 
his  peculiar  situation  (for  it  was  a  very  peculiar  one),  to  grasp 
the  means  of  raising  themselves  to  power  at  the  risk  of  throw- 
ing a  kingdom  into  confusion.    Pope  has  distinguished  him  as 

Argyle,  the  state's  whole  thunder  born  to  wield, 
And  shake  alike  the  senate  and  the  field. 

He  was  alike  free  from  the  ordinary  vices  of  statesmen,  false- 
hood, namely,  and  dissimulation ;  and  from  those  of  warriors, 
inordinate  and  violent  thirst  after  self-aggrandisement. 

Scotland,  his  native  country,  stood  at  this  time  in  a  very 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


411 


precarious  and  doubtful  situation.  She  was  indeed  united  to 
England,  but  the  cement  had  not  had  time  to  acquire  consist- 
ence. The  irritation  of  ancient  wrongs  still  subsisted,  and 
betwixt  the  fretful  jealousy  of  the  Scottish  and  the  supercil- 
ious disdain  of  the  English,  quarrels  repeatedly  occurred,  in 
the  course  of  which  the  national  league,  so  important  to  the 
safety  of  both,  was  in  the  utmost  danger  of  being  dissolved. 
Scotland  had,  besides,  the  disadvantage  of  being  divided  into 
intestine  factions,  which  hated  each  other  bitterly,  and  waited 
but  a  signal  to  break  forth  into  action. 

In  such  circumstances,  another  man,  with  the  talents  and 
rank  of  Argyle,  but  without  a  mind  so  happily  regulated, 
would  have  sought  to  rise  from  the  earth  in  the  whirlwind, 
and  direct  its  fury.  He  chose  a  course  more  safe  and  more 
honourable. 

-Soaring  above  the  petty  distinctions  of  faction,  his  voice 
was  raised,  whether  in  office  or  opposition,  for  those  measures 
which  were  at  once  just  and  lenient.  His  high  military  tal- 
ents enabled  him,  during  the  memorable  year  1715,  to  render 
such  services  to  the  house  of  Hanover,  as,  perhaps,  were  too 
great  to  be  either  acknowledged  or  repaid.  "  Hs  had  employed, 
too,  his  utmost  influence  in  softening  the  consequences  of  that 
insurrection  to  the  unfortunate  gentlemenjwhom  a  mistaken 
sense  of  loyalty  had  engaged  in  the  affair,/ and  was  rewarded 
by  the  esteem  and  affection  of  his  country  in  an  uncommon 
degree.  This  popularity  with  a  discontented  and  warlike  peo- 
ple was  supposed  to  be  a  subject  of  jealousy  at  court,  where 
the  power  to  become  dangerous  is  sometimes  of  itself  obnox- 
ious, though  the  inclination  is  not  united  with  it.  Besides, 
the  Duke  of  Argyle' s  independent  and  somewhat  haughty 
mode  of  expressing  himself  in  Parliament,  and  acting  in  pub- 
lic, were  ill  calculated  to  attract  royal  favour.  He  was,  there- 
fore, always  respected,  and  often  employed ;  but  he  was  not 
a  favourite  of  George  the  Second,  his  consort,  or  his  ministers. 
At  several  different  periods  in  his  life,  the  Duke  might  be 
considered  as  in  absolute  disgrace  at  court,  although  he  could 
hardly  be  said  to  be  a  declared  member  of  opposition.  This 
rendered  him  the  dearer  to  Scotland,  because  it  was  usually 


412 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


in  her  cause  that  he  incurred  the  displeasure  of  his  sovereign : 
and  upon  this  very  occasion  of  the  Porteous  mob,  the  animated 
and  eloquent  opposition  which  he  had  offered  to  the  severe 
measures  which  were  about  to  be  adopted  towards  the  city  of 
Edinburgh  was  the  more  gratefully  received  in  that  metropolis 
as  it  was  understood  that  the  Duke's  interposition  had  given 
personal  offence  to  Queen  Caroline. 

His  conduct  upon  this  occasion,  as,  indeed,  that  of  all  the 
Scottish  members  of  the  legislature,  with  one  or  two  unworthy 
exceptions,  had  been  in  the  highest  degree  spirited.  The  popu- 
lar tradition  concerning  his  reply  to  Queen  Caroline  has  been 
given  already,  and  some  fragments  of  his  speech  against  the 
Porteous  bill  are  still  remembered.  He  retorted  upon  the 
Chancellor,  Lord  Hardwicke,  the  insinuation  that  he  had 
stated  himself  in  this  case  rather  as  a  party  than  as  a  judge. 
"  I  appeal, "  said  Argyle,  "  to  the  House — to  the  nation,  if  I 
can  be  justly  branded  with  the  infamy  of  being  a  jobber  or  a 
partizan.  Have  I  been  a  briber  of  votes — a  buyer  of  boroughs 
— the  agent  of  corruption  for  any  purpose,  or  on  behalf  of  any 
party?  Consider  my  life,  examine  my  actions  in  the  field  and 
in  the  cabinet,  and  see  where  there  lies  a  blot  that  can  attach 
to  my  honour.  I  have  shown  myself  the  friend  of  my  country, 
the  loyal  subject  of  my  king.  I  am  ready  to  do  so  again, 
without  an  instant's  regard  to  the  frowns  or  smiles  of  a  court, 
I  have  experienced  both,  and  am  prepared  with  indifference 
for  either.  I  have  given  my  reasons  for  opposing  this  bill, 
and  have  made  it  appear  that  it  is  repugnant  to  the  interna- 
tional treaty  of  union,  to  the  liberty  of  Scotland,  and,  reflec- 
tively, to  that  of  England,  to  common  justice,  to  common 
sense,  and  to  the  public  interest.  Shall  the  metropolis  of 
Scotland,  the  capital  of  an  independent  nation,  the  residence 
of  a  long  line  of  monarchs,  by  whom  that  noble  city  was 
graced  and  dignified— shall  such  a  city,  for  the  fault  of  an 
obscure  and  unknown  body  of  rioters,  be  deprived  of  its  hon- 
ours and  its  privileges,  its  gates  and  its  guards?  and  shall  a 
native  Scotsman  tamely  behold  the  havoc?  I  glory,  my  lords, 
in  opposing  such  unjust  rigour,  and  reckon  it  my  dearest  pride 
and  honour  to  stand  up  in  defence  of  my  native  country, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


413 


while  thus  laid  open  to  undeserved  shame  and  unjust  spolia- 
tion." 

Other  statesmen  and  orators,  both  Scottish  and  English, 
used  the  same  arguments ;  the  bill  was  gradually  stripped  of 
its  most  oppressive  and  obnoxious  clauses,  and  at  length  ended 
in  a  fine  upon  the  city  of  Edinburgh  in  favour  of  Porteous's 
widow ;  so  that,  as  somebody  observed  at  the  time,  the  whole 
of  these  fierce  debates  ended  in  making  the  fortune  of  an 
old  cookmaid,  such  having  been  the  good  woman's  original 
capacity. 

The  court,  however,  did  not  forget  the  baffle  they  had  re- 
ceived in  this  affair,  and  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  who  had  con- 
tributed so  much  to  it,  was  thereafter  considered  as  a  person 
in  disgrace.  It  is  necessary  to  place  these  circumstances  un- 
der the  reader's  observation,  both  because  they  are  connected 
with  the  preceding  and  subsequent  part  of  our  narrative. 

The  Duke  was  alone  in  his  study,  when  one  of  his  gentle- 
men acquainted  him  that  a  country-girl  from  Scotland  was 
desirous  of  speaking  with  his  Grace. 

"  A  country -girl,  and  from  Scotland !"  said  the  Duke ;  "  what 
can  have  brought  the  silly  fool  to  London?  Some  lover  pressed 
and  sent  to  sea,  or  some  stock  sunk  in  the  South  Sea  funds, 
or  some  such  hopeful  concern,  I  suppose,  and  then  nobody  to 
manage  the  matter  but  MacCallummore.  Well,  this  same 
popularity  has  its  inconveniences.  However,  show  our  coun- 
try-woman up,  Archibald;  it  is  ill  manners  to  keep  her  in  at- 
tendance." 

A  young  woman  of  rather  low  stature,  and  whose  counte- 
nance might  be  termed  very  modest  and  pleasing  in  expression, 
though  sunburnt,  somewhat  freckled,  and  not  possessing  regu- 
lar features,  was  ushered  into  the  splendid  library.  She  wore 
the  tartan  plaid  of  her  country,  adjusted  so  as  partly  to  cover 
her  head,  and  partly  to  fall  back  over  her  shoulders.  A 
quantity  of  fair  hair,  disposed  with  great  simplicity  and  neat- 
ness, appeared  in  front  of  her  round  and  good-humoured  face, 
to  which  the  solemnity  of  her  errand,  and  her  sense  of  the 
Duke's  rank  and  importance,  gave  an  appearance  of  deep  awe, 


414 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


but  not  of  slavish  fear  or  fluttered  bashfulness.  The  rest  of 
Jeanie' s  dress  was  in  the  style  of  Scottish  maidens  of  her  own 
class,  but  arranged  with  that  scrupulous  attention  to  neatness 
and  cleanliness  which  we  often  find  united  with  that  purity  of 
mind  of  which  it  is  a  natural  emblem. 

She  stopped  near  the  entrance  of  the  room,  made  her  deep- 
est reverence,  and  crossed  her  hands  upon  her  bosom,  without 
uttering  a  syllable.  The  Duke  of  Argyle  advanced  towards 
her;  and  if  she  admired  his  graceful  deportment  and  rich 
dress,  decorated  with  the  orders  which  had  been  deservedly 
bestowed  on  him,  his  courteous  manner,  and  quick  and  intelli- 
gent cast  of  countenance,  he,  on  his  part,  was  not  less,  or  less 
deservedly,  struck  with  the  quiet  simplicity  and  modesty  ex- 
pressed in  the  dress,  manners,  and  countenance  of  his  humble 
countrywoman. 

"  Did  you  wish  to  speak  with  me,  my  bonny  lass?"  said  the 
Duke,  using  the  encouraging  epithet  which  at  once  acknowl- 
edged the  connexion  betwixt  them  as  country-folk ;  "  or  did 
you  wish  to  see  the  Duchess?" 

"  My  business  is  with  your  honour,  my  Lord — I  mean  your 
Lordship's  Grace." 

"  And  what  is  it,  my  good  girl?"  said  the  Duke,  in  the  same 
mild  and  encouraging  tone  of  voice.  Jeanie  looked  at  the  at- 
tendant. 66  Leave  us,  Archibald, "  said  the  Duke,  "  and  wait 
in  the  ante-room."  The  domestic  retired.  "And  now  sit 
down,  my  good  lass,"  said  the  Duke;  "take  your  breath — 
take  your  time,  and  tell  me  what  you  have  got  to  say.  I  guess 
by  your  dress  you  are  just  come  up  from  poor  old  Scotland. 
Did  you  come  through  the  streets  in  your  tartan  plaid?" 

"No,  sir,"  said  Jeanie;  "a  friend  brought  me  in  ane  o' 
their  street  coaches — a  very  decent  woman,"  she  added,  her 
courage  increasing  as  she  became  familiar  with  the  sound  of 
her  own  voice  in  such  a  presence;  "your  Lordship's  Grace 
kens  her:  it's  Mrs.  Glass,  at  the  sign  o'  the  Thistle." 

"  Oh,  my  worthy  snuff -merchant !  I  have  always  a  chat  with 
Mrs.  Glass  when  I  purchase  my  Scotch  high-dried.  Well,  but 
your  business,  my  bonny  woman:  time  and  tide,  you  know, 
wait  for  no  one." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


415 


"  Your  honour — I  beg  your  Lordship's  pardon,  I  mean  your 
Grace, " — for  it  must  be  noticed  that  this  matter  of  addressing 
the  Duke  by  his  appropriate  title  had  been  anxiously  inculcated 
upon  Jeanie  by  her  friend  Mrs.  Glass,  in  whose  eyes  it  was  a 
matter  of  such  importance  that  her  last  words,  as  Jeanie  left 
the  coach  were,  "  Mind  to  say  your  Grace" ;  and  Jeanie,  who 
had  scarce  ever  in  her  life  spoke  to  a  person  of  higher  quality 
than  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  found  great  difficulty  in  ar- 
ranging her  language  according  to  the  rules  of  ceremony. 

The  Duke,  who  saw  her  embarrassment,  said,  with  his  usual 
affability:  " Never  mind  my  Grace,  lassie;  just  speak  out  a 
plain  tale,  and  show  you  have  a  Scotch  tongue  in  your  head." 

"  Sir,  I  am  muckle  obliged.  Sir,  I  am  the  sister  of  that 
poor  unfortunate  criminal,  Effie  Deans,  who  is  ordered  for 
execution  at  Edinburgh." 

"  Ah!"  said  the  Duke,  "  I  have  heard  of  that  unhappy  story, 
I  think — a  case  of  child-murder,  under  a  special  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment.   Duncan  Forbes  mentioned  it  at  dinner  the  other  day." 

"  And  I  was  come  up  frae  the  north,  sir,  to  see  what  could 
be  done  for  her  in  the  way  of  getting  a  reprieve  or  pardon,  sir, 
or  the  like  of  that. " 

"  Alas !  my  poor  girl, "  said  the  Duke,  "  you  have  made  a 
long  and  a  sad  journey  to  very  little  purpose.  Your  sister  is 
ordered  for  execution." 

"  But  I  am  given  to  understand  that  there  is  law  for  re- 
prieving her,  if  it  is  in  the  king's  pleasure,"  said  Jeanie. 

"  Certainly  there  is, "  said  the  Duke ;  "  but  that  is  purely  in 
the  king's  breast.  The  crime  has  been  but  too  common;  the 
Scotch  crown-lawyers  think  it  is  right  there  should  be  an  ex- 
ample. Then  the  late  disorders  in  Edinburgh  have  excited  a 
prejudice  in  government  against  the  nation  at  large,  which 
they  think  can  only  be  managed  by  measures  of  intimidation 
and  severity.  What  argument  have  you,  my  poor  girl,  except 
the  warmth  of  your  sisterly  affection,  to  offer  against  all  this? 
What  is  your  interest?    What  friends  have  you  at  court?" 

"  None,  excepting  God  and  your  Grace, "  said  J eanie,  still 
keeping  her  ground  resolutely,  however. 

"Alas!"  said  the  Duke,  "I  could  almost  say  with  old  Or- 


416 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


mond,  that  there  could  not  be  any  whose  influence  was  smaller 
with  kings  and  ministers.  It  is  a  cruel  part  of  our  situation, 
young  woman — 1  mean  of  the  situation  of  men  in  my  circum- 
stances— that  the  public  ascribe  to  them  influence  which  they 
do  not  possess ;  and  that  individuals  are  led  to  expect  from 
them  assistance  which  we  have  no  means  of  rendering.  But 
candour  and  plain  dealing  is  in  the  power  of  every  one,  and 
I  must  not  let  you  imagine  you  have  resources  in  my  influence 
which  do  not  exist,  to  make  your  distress  the  heavier.  I  have 
no  means  of  averting  your  sister's  fate.    She  must  die." 

"  We  must  a'  die,  sir, "  said  Jeanie ;  "  it  is  our  common  doom 
for  our  father's  transgression;  but  we  shouldna  hasten  ilk 
other  out  o'  the  world,  that's  what  your  honour  kens  betters 
than  me." 

"  My  good  young  woman,"  said  the  Duke,  mildly,  "we  are 
all  apt  to  blame  the  law  under  which  we  immediately  suffer; 
but  you  seem  to  have  been  well  educated  in  your  line  of  life, 
and  you  must  know  that  it  is  alike  the  law  of  God  and  man 
that  the  murderer  shall  surely  die." 

"  But,  sir,  Effie — that  is,  my  poor  sister,  sir — canna  be 
proved  to  be  a  murderer ;  and  if  she  be  not,  and  the  law  take 
her  life  notwithstanding,  wha  is  it  that  is  the  murderer  then?" 

"  I  am  no  lawyer, "  said  the  Duke ;  "  and  I  own  I  think  the 
statute  a  very  severe  one." 

"  You  are  a  law-maker,  sir,  with  your  leave ;  and  therefore 
ye  have  power  over  the  law,"  answered  Jeanie. 

"  Not  in  my  individual  capacity, "  said  the  Duke ;  "  though, 
as  one  of  a  large  body,  I  have  a  voice  in  the  legislation.  But 
that  cannot  serve  you;  nor  have  I  at  present — I  care  not 
who  knows  it — so  much  personal  influence  with  the  sovereign 
as  would  entitle  me  to  ask  from  him  the  most  insignificant 
favour.  What  could  tempt  you,  young  woman,  to  address 
yourself  to  me?" 

"It  was  yoursell,  sir." 

"Myself?"  he  replied.  "I  am  sure  you  have  never  seen 
me  before." 

"No,  sir;  but  a'  the  world  kens  that  the  Duke  of  Argyle  is 
his  country's  friend;  and  that  ye  fight  for  the  right,  and  speak 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


417 


for  the  right,  and  that  there's  nane  like  you  in  our  present 
Israel,  and  so  they  that  think  themselves  wranged  draw  to 
refuge  under  your  shadow ;  and  if  ye  wunna  stir  to  save  the 
blood  of  an  innocent  countrywoman  of  your  ain,  what  should 
we  expect  frae  Southrons  and  strangers?  And  maybe,  I  had 
another  reason  for  troubling  your  honour. " 
"And  what  is  that?"  asked  the  Duke. 

"  I  hae  understood  from  my  father  that  your  honour's  house, 
and  especially  your  gudesire  and  his  father,  laid  down  their 
lives  on  the  scaffold  in  the  persecuting  time.  And  my  father 
was  honoured  to  gie  his  testimony  baith  in  the  cage  and  in 
the  pillory,  as  is  specially  mentioned  in  the  books  of  Peter 
[Patrick]  Walker,  the  packman,  that  your  honour,  I  dare  say, 
kens,  for  he  uses  maist  partly  the  westland  of  Scotland.  And, 
sir,  there's  ane  that  takes  concern  in  me  that  wished  me  to 
gang  to  your  Grace's  presence,  for  his  gudesire  had  done  your 
gracious  gudesire  some  good  turn,  as  ye  will  see  frae  these 
papers." 

With  these  words,  she  delivered  to  the  Duke  the  little  par- 
cel which  she  had  received  from  Butler.  He  opened  it,  and 
in  the  envelope  read  with  some  surprise :  "  Muster-roll  of  the 
men  serving  in  the  troop  of  that  godly  gentleman,  Captain 
Salathiel  Bangtext — Obadiah  Muggleton,  Sin-Despise  Double- 
knock,  Stand-fast-in-faith  Gipps,  Turn-to-the-right  Thwack- 
away.  What  the  deuce  is  this?  A  list  of  Praise-God  Bare- 
bones'  Parliament,  I  think,  or  of  old  Noll's  evangelical  army; 
that  last  fellow  should  understand  his  wheelings,  to  judge  by 
his  name.    But  what  does  all  this  mean,  my  girl?" 

"It  was  the  other  paper,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  somewhat 
abashed  at  the  mistake. 

"  Oh,  this  is  my  unfortunate  grandfather's  hand  sure 
enough :  6  To  all  who  may  have  friendship  for  the  house  of 
Argyle,  these  are  to  certify  that  Benjamin  [Stephen]  Butler, 
of  Monk's  regiment  of  dragoons,  having  been,  under  God,  the 
means  of  saving  my  life  from  four  English  troopers  who 
were  about  to  slay  me,  I,  having  no  other  present  means  of 
recompense  in  my  power,  do  give  him  this  acknowledgment, 
hoping  that  it  may  be  useful  to  him  or  his  during  these 
27 


418 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


troublesome  times;  and  do  conjure  my  friends,  tenants,  kins- 
men, and  whoever  will  do  aught  for  me,  either  in  the  High- 
lands or  Lowlands,  to  protect  and  assist  the  said  Benjamin 
[Stephen]  Butler,  and  his  friends  or  family,  on  their  lawful 
occasions,  giving  them  such  countenance,  maintenance,  and 
supply  as  may  correspond  with  the  benefit  he  hath  bestowed 
on  me.    Witness  my  hand —  Lorne.' 

"This  is  a  strong  injunction.  This  Benjamin  [Stephen] 
Butler  was  your  grandfather,  I  suppose?  You  seem  too 
young  to  have  been  his  daughter. " 

"  He  was  nae  akin  to  me,  sir ;  he  was  grandfather  to  ane — 
to  a  neighbour's  son — to  a  sincere  weel- wisher  of  mine,  sir," 
dropping  her  little  courtesy  as  she  spoke. 

"  Oh,  I  understand, "  said  the  Duke — "  a  true-love  affair. 
He  was  the  grandsire  of  one  you  are  engaged  to?" 

"One  I  was  engaged  to,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  sighing;  "but 
this  unhappy  business  of  my  poor  sister  " 

"What!"  said  the  Duke,  hastily;  "he  has  not  deserted  you 
on  that  account,  has  he?" 

"  No,  sir ;  he  wad  be  the  last  to  leave  a  friend  in  difficul- 
ties, "  said  Jeanie ;  "  but  I  maun  think  for  him  as  weel  as  for 
mysell.  He  is  a  clergyman,  sir,  and  it  would  not  beseem  him 
to  marry  the  like  of  me,  wi'  this  disgrace  on  my  kindred." 

"  You  are  a  singular  young  woman,"  said  the  Duke.  "  You 
seem  to  me  to  think  of  every  one  before  yourself.  And  have 
you  really  come  up  from  Edinburgh  on  foot  to  attempt  this 
hopeless  solicitation  for  your  sister's  life?" 

"It  was  not  a'thegither  on  foot,  sir,"  answered  Jeanie; 
"  for  I  sometimes  got  a  cast  in  a  waggon,  and  I  had  a  horse 
from  Ferrybridge,  and  then  the  coach  " 

"  Well,  never  mind  all  that, "  interrupted  the  Duke.  "  What 
reason  have  you  for  thinking  your  sister  innocent?" 

"Because  she  has  not  been  proved  guilty,  as  will  appear 
from  looking  at  these  papers." 

She  put  into  his  hand  a  note  of  the  evidence,  and  copies  of 
her  sister's  declaration.  These  papers  Butler  had  procured 
after  her  departure,  and  Saddletree  had  them  forwarded  to 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


419 


London,  to  Mrs.  Glass's  care;  so  that  Jeanie  found  the  docu- 
ments, so  necessary  for  supporting  her  suit,  lying  in  readiness 
at  her  arrival. 

"Sit  down  in  that  chair,  my  good  girl,"  said  the  Duke, 
"until  I  glance  over  the  papers." 

She  obeyed,  and  watched  with  the  utmost  anxiety  each 
change  in  his  countenance  as  he  cast  his  eye  through  the  pa- 
pers briefly,  yet  with  attention,  and  making  memoranda  as  he 
went  along.  After  reading  them  hastily  over,  he  looked  up, 
and  seemed  about  to  speak,  yet  changed  his  purpose,  as  if 
afraid  of  committing  himself  by  giving  too  hasty  an  opinion, 
and  read  over  again  several  passages  which  he  had  marked  as 
being  most  important.  All  this  he  did  in  shorter  time  than 
can  be  supposed  by  men  of  ordinary  talents;  for  his  mind 
was  of  that  acute  and  penetrating  character  which  discovers, 
with  the  glance  of  intuition,  what  facts  bear  on  the  particular 
point  that  chances  to  be  subjected  to  consideration.  At  length 
he  rose,  after  a  few  minute's  deep  reflection.  "Young  wom- 
an," said  he,  "your  sister's  case  must  certainly  be  termed  a 
hard  one." 

"  God  bless  you,  sir,  for  that  very  word!"  said  Jeanie. 

"  It  seems  contrary  to  the  genius  of  British  law, "  continued 
the  Duke,  "to  take  that  for  granted  which  is  not  proved,  or 
to  punish  with  death  for  a  crime  which,  for  aught  the  prose- 
cutor has  been  able  to  show,  may  not  have  been  committed 
at  all." 

"God  bless  you,  sir!"  again  said  Jeanie,  who  had  risen 
from  her  seat,  and,  with  clasped  hands,  eyes  glittering  through 
tears,  and  features  which  trembled  with  anxiety,  drank  in 
every  word  which  the  Duke  uttered. 

"  But,  alas !  my  poor  girl, "  he  continued,  "  what  good  will 
my  opinion  do  you,  unless  I  could  impress  it  upon  those  in 
whose  hands  your  sister's  life  is  placed  by  the  law?  Besides, 
I  am  no  lawyer ;  and  I  must  speak  with  some  of  our  Scottish 
gentlemen  of  the  gown  about  the  matter." 

"  Oh,  but,  sir,  what  seems  reasonable  to  your  honour  will 
certainly  be  the  same  to  them,"  answered  Jeanie. 

"  I  do  not  know  that, "  replied  the  Duke ;  "  ilka  man  buckles 


420 


WAYERLEY  NOVELS. 


his  belt  his  ain  gate — you  know  our  old  Scotch  proverb?  But 
you  shall  not  have  placed  this  reliance  on  me  altogether  in 
vain.  Leave  these  papers  with  me,  and  you  shall  hear  from 
me  to-morrow  or  next  day.  Take  care  to  be  at  home  at  Mrs. 
Glass's,  and  ready  to  come  to  me  at  a  moment's  warning.  It 
will  be  unnecessary  for  you  to  give  Mrs.  Glass  the  trouble  to 
attend  you;  and,  by  the  by,  you  will  please  to  be  dressed  just 
as  you  are  at  present." 

"  I  wad  hae  putten  on  a  cap,  sir, "  said  Jeanie,  "  but  your 
honour  kens  it  isna  the  fashion  of  my  country  for  single 
women ;  and  I  judged  that,  being  sae  mony  hundred  miles  frae 
hame,  your  Grace's  heart  wad  warm  to  the  tartan,"  looking  at 
the  corner  of  her  plaid. 

"You  judged  quite  right,"  said  the  Duke.  "I  know  the 
full  value  of  the  snood;  and  MacCallummore's  heart  will  be 
as  cold  as  death  can  make  it  when  it  does  not  warm  to  the 
tartan.  Now,  go  away,  and  don't  be  out  of  the  way  when  I 
send." 

Jeanie  replied :  "  There  is  little  fear  of  that,  sir,  for  I  have 
little  heart  to  go  to  see  sights  amang  this  wilderness  of  black 
houses.  But  if  I  might  say  to  your  gracious  honour,  that  if 
ye  ever  condescend  to  speak  to  ony  ane  that  is  of  greater  de- 
gree than  yoursell,  though  maybe  it  is  nae  civil  in  me  to  say 
sae,  just  if  you  would  think  there  can  be  nae  sic  odds  between 
you  and  them  as  between  poor  Jeanie  Deans  from  St.  Leonard's 
and  the  Duke  of  Argyle ;  and  so  dinna  be  chappit  back  or  cast 
down  wi'  the  first  rough  answer. " 

"  I  am  not  apt, "  said  the  Duke,  laughing,  "  to  mind  rough 
answers  much.  Do  not  you  hope  too  much  from  what  I  have 
promised.  I  will  do  my  best ;  but  God  has  the  hearts  of  kings 
in  His  own  hand." 

Jeanie  courtesied  reverently  and  withdrew,  attended  by  the 
Duke's  gentleman,  to  her  hackney-coach,  with  a  respect  which 
her  appearance  did  not  demand,  but  which  was  perhaps  paid 
to  the  length  of  the  interview  with  which  his  master  had 
honoured  her. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


421 


CHAPTEK  XXXVI. 

Ascend, 

While  radiant  summer  opens  all  its  pride, 
Thy  hill,  delightful  Shene  !    Here  let  us  sweep 
The  boundless  landscape. 

Thomson. 

From  her  kind  and  officious,  but  somewhat  gossiping  friend, 
Mrs.  Glass,  Jeanie  underwent  a  very  close  catechism  on  their 
road  to  the  Strand,  where  the  Thistle  of  the  good  lady  flour- 
ished in  full  glory,  and,  with  its  legend  of  Nemo  me  impune, 
distinguished  a  shop  then  well  known  to  all  Scottish  folk  of 
high  and  low  degree. 

"And  were  you  sure  aye  to  say  'Your  Grace'  to  him?"  said 
the  good  old  lady ;  "  for  ane  should  make  a  distinction  between 
MacCallummore  and  the  bits  o'  southern  bodies  that  they  ca? 
lords  here :  there  are  as  mony  o'  them,  Jeanie,  as  would  gar 
ane  think  they  maun  cost  but  little  fash  in  the  making. 
Some  of  them  I  wadna  trust  wi'  six  penniesworth  of  black 
rappee ;  some  of  them  I  wadna  gie  mysell  the  trouble  to  put  up 
a  hapny worth  in  brown  paper  for.  But  I  hope  you  showed  your 
breeding  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  for  what  sort  of  folk  would 
he  think  your  friends  in  London,  if  you  had  been  lording  him, 
and  him  a  duke?" 

"  He  didna  seem  muckle  to  mind,"  said  Jeanie;  "he  kenn'd 
that  I  was  landward  bred." 

"  Weel,  weel, "  answered  the  good  lady.  "  His  Grace  kens 
me  weel ;  so  I  am  the  less  anxious  about  it.  I  never  fill  his 
snuff-box  but  he  says,  'How  d'ye  do,  good  Mrs.  Glass?  How 
are  all  our  friends  in  the  North?'  or  it  may  be,  'Have  ye 
heard  from  the  North  lately?'  And  you  may  be  sure  I  make 
my  best  courtesy,  and  answer,  'My  Lord  Duke,  I  hope  your 
Grace's  noble  Duchess  and  your  Grace's  young  ladies  are  well; 
and  I  hope  the  snuff  continues  to  give  your  Grace  satisfaction.' 
And  then  ye  will  see  the  people  in  the  shop  begin  to  look  about 
them;  and  if  there's  a  Scotchman,  as  there  may  be  three  or 
half  a  dozen,  aff  go  the  hats,  and  mony  a  look  after  him,  and 


422 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


•There  goes  the  Prince  of  Scotland,  God  bless  him!'  But  ye 
have  not  told  ye  yet  the  very  words  he  said  t'ye." 

Jeanie  had  no  intention  to  be  quite  so  communicative.  She 
had,  as  the  reader  may  have  observed,  some  of  the  caution  and 
shrewdness,  as  well  as  of  the  simplicity,  of  her  country.  She 
answered  generally,  that  the  Duke  had  received  her  very  com- 
passionately, and  had  promised  to  interest  himself  in  her  sis- 
ter's affair,  and  to  let  her  hear  from  him  in  the  course  of  the 
next  day,  or  the  day  after.  She  did  not  choose  to  make  any 
mention  of  his  having  desired  her  to  be  in  readiness  to  attend 
him,  far  less  of  his  hint  that  she  should  not  bring  her  land- 
lady. So  that  honest  Mrs.  Glass  was  obliged  to  remain 
satisfied  with  the  general  intelligence  above  mentioned,  after 
having  done  all  she  could  to  extract  more. 

It  may  easily  be  conceived  that,  on  the  next  day,  Jeanie  de- 
clined all  invitations  and  inducements,  whether  of  exercise  or 
curiosity,  to  walk  abroad,  and  continued  to  inhale  the  close 
and  somewhat  professional  atmosphere  of  Mrs.  Glass's  small 
parlour.  The  latter  flavour  it  owed  to  a  certain  cupboard, 
containing,  among  other  articles,  a  few  canisters  of  real  Hav- 
annah,  which,  whether  from  respect  to  the  manufacture  or  out 
of  a  reverent  fear  of  the  exciseman,  Mrs.  Glass  did  not  care  to 
trust  in  the  open  shop  below,  and  which  communicated  to  the 
room  a  scent  that,  however  fragrant  to  the  nostrils  of  the  con- 
noisseur, was  not  very  agreeable  to  those  of  J eanie. 

"  Dear  sirs,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  I  wonder  how  my  cousin's 
silk  manty,  and  her  gowd  watch,  or  ony  thing  in  the  world, 
can  be  worth  sitting  sneezing  all  her  life  in  this  little  stifling 
room,  and  might  walk  on  green  braes  if  she  liked. 99 

Mrs.  Glass  was  equally  surprised  at  her  cousin's  reluctance 
to  stir  abroad  and  her  indifference  to  the  fine  sights  of  London. 
"It  would  always  help  to  pass  away  the  time,"  she  said,  "to 
have  something  to  look  at,  though  ane  was  in  distress." 

But  Jeanie  was  unpersuadable. 

The  day  after  her  interview  with  the  Duke  was  spent  in 
that  "  hope  delayed,  which  maketh  the  heart  sick. "  Minutes 
glided  after  minutes;  hours  fled  after  hours;  it  became  too 
late  to  have  any  reasonable  expectation  of  hearing  from  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


423 


Duke  that  day ;  yet  the  hope  which  she  disowned,  she  could 
not  altogether  relinquish,  and  her  heart  throbbed,  and  her 
ears  tingled,  with  every  casual  sound  in  the  shop  below.  It 
was  in  vain.  The  day  wore  away  in  the  anxiety  of  protracted 
and  fruitless  expectation. 

The  next  morning  commenced  in  the  same  manner.  But 
before  noon  a  well-dressed  gentleman  entered  Mrs.  Glass's 
shop,  and  requested  to  see  a  young  woman  from  Scotland. 

"  That  will  be  my  cousin,  Jeanie  Deans,  Mr.  Archibald, " 
said  Mrs.  Glass,  with  a  courtesy  of  recognisance.  "  Have  you 
any  message  for  her  from  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  Mr. 
Archibald?    I  will  carry  it  to  her  in  a  moment." 

"  I  believe  I  must  give  her  the  trouble  of  stepping  down, 
Mrs.  Glass." 

"Jeanie — Jeanie  Deans!"  said  Mrs.  Glass,  screaming  at 
the  bottom  of  the  little  staircase,  which  ascended  from  the 
corner  of  the  shop  to  the  higher  regions.  "  Jeanie — Jeanie 
Deans,  I  say !  come  downstairs  instantly ;  here  is  the  Duke  of 
Argyle's  groom  of  the  chambers  desires  to  see  you  directly." 
This  was  announced  in  a  voice  so  loud  as  to  make  all  who 
chanced  to  be  within  hearing  aware  of  the  important  commu- 
nication. 

It  may  easily  be  supposed  that  J eanie  did  not  tarry  long  in 
adjusting  herself  to  attend  the  summons,  yet  her  feet  almost 
failed  her  as  she  came  downstairs. 

"  I  must  ask  the  favour  of  your  company  a  little  way, "  said 
Archibald,  with  civility. 

"  I  am  quite  ready,  sir, "  said  Jeanie. 

"Is  my  cousin  going  out,  Mr.  Archibald?  then  I  will  hae  to 
go  wi'  her,  no  doubt.  James  Rasper, — look  to  the  shop, 
James.  Mr.  Archibald,"  pushing  a  jar  towards  him,  "you 
take  his  Grace's  mixture,  I  think?  Please  to  fill  your  box, 
for  old  acquaintance  sake,  while  I  get  on  my  things. " 

Mr.  Archibald  transposed  a  modest  parcel  of  snuff  from  the 
jar  to  his  own  mull,  but  said  he  was  obliged  to  decline  the 
pleasure  of  Mrs.  Glass's  company,  as  his  message  was  particu- 
larly to  the  young  person. 

" Particularly  to  the  young  person!"  said  Mrs.  Glass;  "is 


424 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


not  that  uncommon,  Mr.  Archibald?  But  his  Grace  is  the 
best  judge;  and  you  are  a  steady  person,  Mr.  Archibald.  It 
is  not  every  one  that  comes  from  a  great  man's  house,  I  would 
trust  my  cousin  with.  But,  Jeanie,  you  must  not  go  through 
the  streets  with  Mr.  Archibald  with  your  tartan  what-d'ye- 
call-it  there  upon  your  shoulders,  as  if  you  had  come  up  with 
a  drove  of  Highland  cattle.  Wait  till  I  bring  down  my  silk 
cloak.    Why,  we'll  have  the  mob  after  you!" 

"I  have  a  hackney-coach  in  waiting,  madam,"  said  Mr. 
Archibald,  interrupting  the  officious  old  lady,  from  whom 
Jeanie  might  otherwise  have  found  it  difficult  to  escape,  "  and 
I  believe  I  must  not  allow  her  time  for  any  change  of  dress." 

So  saying,  he  hurried  Jeanie  into  the  coach,  while  she  in- 
ternally praised  and  wondered  at  the  easy  manner  in  which 
he  shifted  off  Mrs.  Glass's  officious  offers  and  inquiries,  with- 
out mentioning  his  master's  orders,  or  going  into  any  explana- 
tion whatever. 

On  entering  the  coach,  Mr.  Archibald  seated  himself  in  the 
front  seat,  opposite  to  our  heroine,  and  they  drove  on  in  silence. 
After  they  had  proceeded  nearly  half  an  hour,  without  a  word 
on  either  side,  it  occurred  to  Jeanie  that  the  distance  and  time 
did  not  correspond  with  that  which  had  been  occupied  by  her 
journey  on  the  former  occasion  to  and  from  the  residence  of 
the  Duke  of  A r gyle.  At  length  she  could  not  help  asking  her 
taciturn  companion,  "  Whilk  way  they  were  going?" 

"  My  Lord  Duke  will  inform  you  himself,  madam, "  answered 
Archibald,  with  the  same  solemn  courtesy  which  marked  his 
whole  demeanour.  Almost  as  he  spoke  the  hackney-coach 
drew  up,  and  the  coachman  dismounted  and  opened  the  door. 
Archibald  got  out  and  assisted  Jeanie  to  get  down.  She  found 
herself  in  a  large  turnpike  road,  without  the  bounds  of  London, 
upon  the  other  side  of  which  road  was  drawn  up  a  plain  chariot 
and  four  horses,  the  panels  without  arms,  and  the  servants 
without  liveries. 

"You  have  been  punctual,  I  see,  Jeanie,"  said  the  Duke  of 
Argyle,  as  Archibald  opened  the  carriage  door.  u  You  must 
be  my  companion  for  the  rest  of  the  way.  Archibald  will 
remain  here  with  the  hackney-coach  till  your  return. " 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


425 


Ere  Jeanie  could  make  answer,  she  found  herself,  to  her  no 
small  astonishment,  seated  by  the  side  of  a  duke,  in  a  carriage 
which  rolled  forward  at  a  rapid  yet  smooth  rate,  very  different 
in  both  particulars  from  the  lumbering,  jolting  vehicle  which 
she  had  just  left;  and  which,  lumbering  and  jolting  as  it  was, 
conveyed  to  one  who  had  seldom  been  in  a  coach  before  a  cer- 
tain feeling  of  dignity  and  importance. 

"  Young  woman, "  said  the  Duke,  "  after  thinking  as  atten- 
tively on  your  sister's  case  as  is  in  my  power,  I  continue  to  be 
impressed  with  the  belief  that  great  injustice  may  be  done  by 
the  execution  of  her  sentence.  So  are  one  or  two  liberal  and 
intelligent  lawyers  of  both  countries  whom  I  have  spoken  with. 
Nay,  pray  hear  me  out  before  you  thank  me.  I  have  already 
told  you  my  personal  conviction  is  of  little  consequence,  un- 
less I  could  impress  the  same  upon  others.  Now  I  have  done 
for  you  what  I  would  certainly  not  have  done  to  serve  any  pur- 
pose of  my  own :  I  have  asked  an  audience  of  a  lady  whose 
interest  with  the  king  is  deservedly  very  high.  It  has  been 
allowed  me,  and  I  am  desirous  that  you  should  see  her  and 
speak  for  yourself.  You  have  no  occasion  to  be  abashed ;  tell 
your  story  simply  as  you  did  to  me." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  your  Grace,"  said  Jeanie,  remember- 
ing Mrs.  Glass's  charge;  "  and  I  am  sure,  since  I  have  had  the 
courage  to  speak  to  your  Grace  in  poor  Effie's  cause,  I  have 
less  reason  to  be  shamefaced  in  speaking  to  a  leddy.  But, 
sir,  I  would  like  to  ken  what  to  ca'  her,  whether  'Your 
Grace/  or  'Your  Honour,'  or  'Your  leddy  ship/  as  we  say  to 
lairds  and  leddies  in  Scotland,  and  I  will  take  care  to  mind  it ; 
for  I  ken  leddies  are  full  mair  particular  than  gentlemen  about 
their  titles  of  honour. " 

"You  have  no  occasion  to  call  her  anything  but  'Madam.' 
Just  say  what  you  think  is  likely  to  make  the  best  impression. 
Look  at  me  from  time  to  time :  if  I  put  my  hand  to  my  cravat 
so  (showing  her  the  motion),  you  will  stop;  but  I  shall  only 
do  this  when  you  say  anything  that  is  not  likely  to  please." 

"But,  sir,  your  Grace,"  said  Jeanie,  "if  it  wasna  ower 
muckle  trouble,  wad  it  no  be  better  to  tell  me  what  I  should 
slay,  and  I  could  get  it  by  heart?" 


426 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"No,  Jeanie,  that  would  not  have  the  same  effect:  that 
would  be  like  reading  a  sermon,  you  know,  which  we  good 
Presbyterians  think  has  less  unction  than  when  spoken  with- 
out book,"  replied  the  Duke.  "Just  speak  as  plainly  and 
boldly  to  this  lady  as  you  did  to  me  the  day  before  yester- 
day; and  if  you  can  gain  her  consent,  I'll  wad  ye  a  plack, 
as  we  say  in  the  north,  that  you  get  the  pardon  from  the 
king." 

As  he  spoke  he  took  a  pamphlet  from  his  pocket  and  began 
to  read.  Jeanie  had  good  sense  and  tact,  which  constitute 
betwixt  them  that  which  is  called  natural  good-breeding.  She 
interpreted  the  Duke's  manoeuvre  as  a  hint  that  she  was  to  ask 
no  more  questions,  and  she  remained  silent  accordingly. 

The  carriage  rolled  rapidly  onwards  through  fertile  meadows, 
ornamented  with  splendid  old  oaks,  and  catching  occasionally 
a  glance  of  the  majestic  mirror  of  a  broad  and  placid  river. 
After  passing  through  a  pleasant  village,  the  equipage  stopped 
on  a  commanding  eminence,  where  the  beauty  of  English  land- 
scape was  displayed  in  its  utmost  luxuriance.  Herethe'Duke 
alighted,  and  desired  Jeanie  to  follow  him.  They  paused  for 
a  moment  on  the  brow  of  a  hill,  to  gaze  on  the  unrivalled  land- 
scape which  it  presented.  A  huge  sea  of  verdure,  with  cross- 
ing and  intersecting  promontories  of  massive  and  tufted  groves, 
was  tenanted  by  numberless  flocks  and  herds,  which  seemed 
to  wander  unrestrained  and  unbounded  through  the  rich  pas- 
tures. The  Thames,  here  turreted  with  villas  and  there  gar- 
landed with  forests,  moved  on  slowly  and  placidly,  like  the 
mighty  monarch  of  the  scene,  to  whom  all  its  other  beau- 
ties were  but  accessories,  and  bore  on  his  bosom  an  hundred 
barks  and  skiffs,  whose  white  sails  and  gaily  fluttering  pen- 
nons gave  life  to  the  whole. 

The  Duke  of  Argyle  was,  of  course,  familiar  with  this  scene ; 
but  to  a  man  of  taste  it  must  be  always  new.  Yet,  as  he 
paused  and  looked  on  this  inimitable  landscape  with  the  feel- 
ing of  delight  which  it  must  give  to  the  bosom  of  every  ad- 
mirer of  nature,  his  thoughts  naturally  reverted  to  his  own 
more  grand,  and  scarce  less  beautiful,  domains  of  Inverary. 
"This  is  a  fine  scene,"  he  said  to  his  companion,  curious, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


427 


perhaps,  to  draw  out  her  sentiments;  "we  have  nothing  like 
it  in  Scotland." 

"It's  braw  rich  feeding  for  the  cows,  and  they  have  a  fine 
breed  o'  cattle  here,"  replied  Jeanie;  "  but  I  like  just  as  weel 
to  look  at  the  craigs  of  Arthur's  Seat,  and  the  sea  coining  in 
ayont  them,  as  at  a'  thae  muckle  trees." 

The  Duke  smiled  at  a  reply  equally  professional  and  national, 
and  made  a  signal  for  the  carriage  to  remain  where  it  was. 
Then  adopting  an  unfrequented  footpath,  he  conducted  Jeanie 
through  several  complicated  mazes  to  a  postern-door  in  a  high 
brick  wall.  It  was  shut;  but  as  the  Duke  tapped  slightly  at 
it,  a  person  in  waiting  within,  after  reconnoitring  through  a 
small  iron  grate  contrived  for  the  purpose,  unlocked  the  door 
and  admitted  them.  They  entered,  and  it  was  immediately 
closed  and  fastened  behind  them.  This  was  all  done  quickly, 
the  door  so  instantly  closing,  and  the  person  who  opened  it  so 
suddenly  disappearing,  that  Jeanie  could  not  even  catch  a 
glimpse  of  his  exterior. 

They  found  themselves  at  the  extremity  of  a  deep  and  narrow 
alley,  carpeted  with  the  most  verdant  and  close-shaven  turf, 
which  felt  like  velvet  under  their  feet,  and  screened  from  the 
sun  by  the  branches  of  the  lofty  elms  which  united  over 
the  path,  and  caused  it  to  resemble,  in  the  solemn  obscurity  of 
the  light  which  they  admitted,  as  well  as  from  the  range  of 
columnar  stems,  and  intricate  union  of  their  arched  branches, 
one  of  the  narrow  side  aisles  in  an  ancient  Gothic  cathedral. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

I  beseech  you ; 
These  tears  beseech  you,  and  these  chaste  hands  woo  you, 
That  never  yet  were  heaved  but  to  things  holy — 
Things  like  yourself.    You  are  a  God  above  us  ; 
Be  as  a  God,  then,  full  of  saving  mercy  ! 

The  Bloody  Brother. 

Encouraged  as  she  was  by  the  courteous  manners  of  her 
noble  countryman,  it  was  not  without  a  feeling  of  something 
like  terror  that  Jeanie  felt  herself  in  a  place  apparently  so 


428 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


lonely,  with  a  man  of  such  high  rank.  That  she  should  have 
been  permitted  to  wait  on  the  Duke  in  his  own  house,  and 
have  been  there  received  to  a  private  interview,  was  in  itself 
an  uncommon  and  distinguished  event  in  the  annals  of  a  life 
so  simple  as  hers ;  but  to  find  herself  his  travelling  companion 
in  a  journey,  and  then  suddenly  to  be  left  alone  with  him  in 
so  secluded  a  situation,  had  something  in  it  of  awful  mystery. 
A  romantic  heroine  might  have  suspected  and  dreaded  the 
power  of  her  own  charms;  but  Jeanie  was  too  wise  to  let  such 
a  silly  thought  intrude  on  her  mind.  Still,  however,  she  had 
a  most  eager  desire  to  know  where  she  now  was,  and  to  whom 
she  was  to  be  presented. 

She  remarked  that  the  Duke's  dress,  though  still  such  as 
indicated  rank  and  fashion  (for  it  was  not  the  custom  of  men 
of  quality  at  that  time  to  dress  themselves  like  their  own 
coachmen  or  grooms),  was  nevertheless  plainer  than  that  in 
which  she  had  seen  him  upon  a  former  occasion,  and  was  di- 
vested, in  particular,  of  all  those  badges  of  external  decora- 
tion which  intimated  superior  consequence.  In  short,  he  was 
attired  as  plainly  as  any  gentleman  of  fashion  could  appear 
in  the  streets  of  London  in  a  morning;  and  this  circum- 
stance helped  to  shake  an  opinion  which  Jeanie  began  to  en- 
tertain, that  perhaps  he  intended  she  should  plead  her  cause 
in  the  presence  of  royalty  itself.  "But,  surely,"  said  she  to 
herself,  "  he  wad  hae  putten  on  his  braw  star  and  garter,  an 
he  had  thought  o?  coming  before  the  face  of  Majesty ;  and 
after  a',  this  is  mair  like  a  gentleman's  policy  than  a  royal 
palace. " 

There  was  some  sense  in  Jeanie' s  reasoning;  yet  she  was 
not  sufficiently  mistress  either  of  the  circumstances  of  eti- 
quette, or  the  particular  relations  which  existed  betwixt  the 
government  and  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  to  form  an  accurate  judg- 
ment. The  Duke,  as  we  have  said,  was  at  this  time  in  open 
opposition  to  the  administration  of  Sir  Eobert  Walpole,  and 
was  understood  to  be  out  of  favour  with  the  royal  family,  to 
whom  he  had  rendered  such  important  services.  But  it  was 
a  maxim  of  Queen  Caroline  to  bear  herself  towards  her  polit- 
ical friends  with  such  caution  as  if  there  was  a  possibility  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


429 


their  one  day  being  her  enemies,  and  towards  political  oppo- 
nents with  the  same  degree  of  circumspection,  as  if  they  might 
again  become  friendly  to  her  measures.  Since  Margaret  of 
Anjou,  no  queen- consort  had  exercised  such  weight  in  the 
political  affairs  of  England,  and  the  personal  address  which 
she  displayed  on  many  occasions  had  no  small  share  in  re- 
claiming from  their  political  heresy  many  of  those  determined 
Tories  who,  after  the  reign  of  the  Stuarts  had  been  extin- 
guished in  the  person  of  Queen  Anne,  were  disposed  rather 
to  transfer  their  allegiance  to  her  brother,  the  Chevalier  de 
St.  George,  than  to  acquiesce  in  the  settlement  of  the  crown 
on  the  Hanover  family.  Her  husband,  whose  most  shining 
quality  was  courage  in  the  field  of  battle,  and  who  endured 
the  office  of  King  of  England  without  ever  being  able  to  ac- 
quire English  habits,  or  any  familiarity  with  English  dispo- 
sitions, found  the  utmost  assistance  from  the  address  of  his 
partner;  and  while  he  jealously  affected  to  do  everything  ac- 
cording to  his  own  will  and  pleasure,  was  in  secret  prudent 
enough  to  take  and  follow  the  advice  of  his  more  adroit  con- 
sort. He  entrusted  to  her  the  delicate  office  of  determining 
the  various  degrees  of  favour  necessary  to  attach  the  waver- 
ing, or  to  confirm  such  as  were  already  friendly,  or  to  regain 
those  whose  goodwill  had  been  lost. 

With  all  the  winning  address  of  an  elegant,  and,  according 
to  the  times,  an  accomplished  woman,  Queen  Caroline  pos- 
sessed the  masculine  soul  of  the  other  sex.  She  was  proud 
by  nature,  and  even  her  policy  could  not  always  temper  her 
expressions  of  displeasure,  although  few  were  more  ready  at 
repairing  any  false  step  of  this  kind,  when  her  prudence  came 
up  to  the  aid  of  her  passions.  She  loved  the  real  possession 
of  power  rather  than  the  show  of  it,  and  whatever  she  did  her- 
self that  was  either  wise  or  popular  she  always  desired  that 
the  king  should  have  the  full  credit  as  well  as  the  advantage 
of  the  measure,  conscious  that,  by  adding  to  his  respectabil- 
ity, she  was  most  likely  to  maintain  her  own.  And  so  desir- 
ous was  she  to  comply  with  all  his  tastes,  that,  when  threat- 
ened with  the  gout,  she  had  repeatedly  had  recourse  to  checking 
the  fit  by  the  use  of  the  cold  bath,  thereby  endangering 


430 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


her  life,  that  she  might  be  able  to  attend  the  king  in  his 
walks. 

It  was  a  very  consistent  part  of  Queen  Caroline's  character 
to  keep  up  many  private  correspondences  with  those  to  whom 
in  public  she  seemed  unfavourable,  or  who,  for  various  rea- 
sons, stood  ill  with  the  court.  By  this  means  she  kept  in 
her  hands  the  thread  of  many  a  political  intrigue,  and,  with- 
out pledging  herself  to  anything,  could  often  prevent  discon- 
tent from  becoming  hatred,  and  opposition  from  exaggerating 
itself  into  rebellion.  If  by  any  accident  her  correspondence 
with  such  persons  chanced  to  be  observed  or  discovered,  which 
she  took  all  possible  pains  to  prevent,  it  was  represented  as  a 
mere  intercourse  of  society,  having  no  reference  to  politics; 
an  answer  with  which  even  the  prime  minister,  Sir  Eobert 
Walpole,  was  compelled  to  remain  satisfied,  when  he  discov- 
ered that  the  Queen  had  given  a  private  audience  to  Pulteney, 
afterwards  Earl  of  Bath,  his  most  formidable  and  most  invet- 
erate enemy. 

In  thus  maintaining  occasional  intercourse  with  several  per- 
sons who  seemed  most  alienated  from  the  crown,  it  may  read- 
ily be  supposed  that  Queen  Caroline  had  taken  care  not  to  break 
entirely  with  the  Duke  of  Argyle.  His  high  birth,  his  great 
talents,  the  estimation  in  which  he  was  held  in  his  own  country, 
the  great  services  which  he  had  rendered  the  house  of  Bruns- 
wick in  1715,  placed  him  high  in  that  rank  of  persons  who 
were  not  to  be  rashly  neglected.  He  had,  almost  by  his  sin- 
gle and  unassisted  talents,  stopped  the  irruption  of  the  banded 
force  of  all  the  Highland  chiefs ;  there  was  little  doubt  that, 
with  the  slightest  encouragement,  he  could  put  them  all  in 
motion  and  renew  the  civil  war ;  and  it  was  well  known  that 
the  most  nattering  overtures  had  been  transmitted  to  the  Duke 
from  the  court  of  St.  Germains.  The  character  and  temper 
of  Scotland  were  still  little  known,  and  it  was  considered  as  a 
volcano  which  might,  indeed,  slumber  for  a  series  of  years, 
but  was  still  liable,  at  a  moment  the  least  expected,  to  break 
out  into  a  wasteful  eruption.  It  was,  therefore,  of  the  high- 
est importance  to  retain  some  hold  over  so  important  a  per- 
sonage as  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  and  Caroline  preserved  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


431 


power  of  doing  so  by  means  of  a  lady  with,  whom,  as  wife  of 
George  II.,  she  might  have  been  supposed  to  be  on  less  inti- 
mate terms. 

It  was  not  the  least  instance  of  the  Queen's  address  that 
she  had  contrived  that  one  of  her  principal  attendants,  Lady 
Suffolk,  should  unite  in  her  own  person  the  two  apparently 
inconsistent  characters  of  her  husband's  mistress  and  her  own 
very  obsequious  and  complaisant  confidante.  By  this  dexter- 
ous management  the  Queen  secured  her  power  against  the 
danger  which  might  most  have  threatened  it — the  thwarting 
influence  of  an  ambitious  rival ;  and  if  she  submitted  to  the . 
mortification  of  being  obliged  to  connive  at  her  husband's 
infidelity,  she  was  at  least  guarded  against  what  she  might 
think  its  most  dangerous  effects,  and  was  besides  at  liberty  now 
and  then  to  bestow  a  few  civil  insults  upon  "  her  good  How- 
ard, "  whom,  however,  in  general,  she  treated  with  great  de- 
corum.1 Lady  Suffolk  lay  under  strong  obligations  to  the 
Duke  of  Argyle,  for  reasons  which  may  be  collected  from 
Horace  Walpole's  Reminiscences  of  that  reign,  and  through 
her  means  the  Duke  had  some  occasional  correspondence  with 
Queen  Caroline,  much  interrupted,  however,  since  the  part  he 
had  taken  in  the  debate  concerning  the  Porteous  mob,  an  affair 
which  the  Queen,  though  somewhat  unreasonably,  was  disposed 
to  resent  rather  as  an  intended  and  premeditated  insolence  to 
her  own  person  and  authority  than  as  a  sudden  ebullition  of 
popular  vengeance.  Still,  however,  the  communication  re- 
mained open  betwixt  them,  though  it  had  been  of  late  dis- 
used on  both  sides.  These  remarks  will  be  found  necessary 
to  understand  the  scene  which  is  about  to  be  presented  to  the 
reaaer. 

From  the  narrow  alley  which  they  had  traversed  the  Duke 
turned  into  one  of  the  same  character,  but  broader  and  still 
longer.  Here,  for  the  first  time  since  they  had  entered  these 
gardens,  Jeanie  saw  persons  approaching  them. 

They  were  two  ladies,  one  of  whom  walked  a  little  be- 
hind the  other,  yet  not  so  much  as  to  prevent  her  from  hear- 
ing and  replying  to  whatever  observation  was  addressed  to  her 
1  See  Horace  Walpole's  Reminiscences, 


432 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


by  the  lady  who  walked  foremost,  and  that  without  her  hav- 
ing the  trouble  to  turn  her  person.  As  they  advanced  very 
slowly,  Jeanie  had  time  to  study  their  features  and  appear- 
ance. The  Duke  also  slackened  his  pace,  as  if  to  give  her 
time  to  collect  herself,  and  repeatedly  desired  her  not  to  be 
afraid.  The  lady  who  seemed  the  principal  person  had  re- 
markably good  features,  though  somewhat  injured  by  the 
small-pox,  that  venomous  scourge  which  each  village  Escula- 
pius  (thanks  to  Jenner)  can  now  tame  as  easily  as  their  tu- 
telary deity  subdued  the  python.  The  lady's  eyes  were  bril- 
liant, her  teeth  good,  and  her  countenance  formed  to  express 
at  will  either  majesty  or  courtesy.  Her  form,  though  rather 
embonpoint,  was  nevertheless  graceful ;  and  the^  elasticity  and 
firmness  of  her  step  gave  no  room  to  suspect,  what  was  actu- 
ally the  case,  that  she  suffered  occasionally  from  a  disorder 
the  most  unfavourable  to  pedestrian  exercise.  Her  dress  was 
rather  rich  than  gay,  and  her  manner  commanding  and  noble. 

Her  companion  was  of  lower  stature,  with  light  brown  hair 
and  expressive  blue  eyes.  Her  features,  without  being  abso- 
lutely regular,  were  perhaps  more  pleasing  than  if  they  had 
been  critically  handsome.  A  melancholy,  or  at  least  a  pen- 
sive, expression,  for  which  her  lot  gave  too  much  cause,  pre- 
dominated when  she  was  silent,  but  gave  way  to  a  pleasing 
and  good-humoured  smile  when  she  spoke  to  any  one. 

When  they  were  within  twelve  or  fifteen  yards  of  these  la- 
dies the  Duke  made  a  sign  that  Jeanie  should  stand  still,  and 
stepping  forward  himself,  with  the  grace  which  was  natural 
to  him,  made  a  profound  obeisance,  which  was  formally,  yet 
in  a  dignified  manner,  returned  by  the  personage  whom  he 
approached. 

"I  hope,"  she  said,  with  an  affable  and  condescending 
smile,  "  that  I  see  so  great  a  stranger  at  court  as  the  Duke  of 
Argyle  has  been  of  late  in  as  good  health  as  his  friends  there 
and  elsewhere  could  wish  him  to  enjoy." 

"  The  Duke  replied,  "  That  he  had  been  perfectly  well " ; 
and  added,  "  that  the  necessity  of  attending  to  the  public  busi- 
ness before  the  House,  as  well  as  the  time  occupied  by  a  late 
journey  to  Scotland,  had  rendered  him  less  assiduous  in  pay- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


433 


ing  his  duty  at  the  levee  and  drawing-room  than  he  could 
have  desired." 

"  When  your  Grace  can  find  time  for  a  duty  so  frivolous, " 
replied  the  Queen,  "  you  are  aware  of  your  title  to  be  well 
received.  I  hope  my  readiness  to  comply  with  the  wish  which 
you  expressed  yesterday  to  Lady  Suffolk  is  a  sufficient  proof 
that  one  of  the  royal  family,  at  least,  has  not  forgotten  an- 
cient and  important  services,  in  resenting  something  which 
resembles  recent  neglect."  This  was  said  apparently  with 
great  good-humour,  and  in  a  tone  which  expressed  a  desire 
of  conciliation. 

The  Duke  replied,  "That  he  would  account  himself  the 
most  unfortunate  of  men,  if  he  could  be  supposed  capable  of 
neglecting  his  duty,  in  modes  and  circumstances  when  it  was 
expected  and  would  have  been  agreeable.  He  was  deeply 
gratified  by  the  honour  which  her  Majesty  was  now  doing  to 
him  personally ;  and  he  trusted  she  would  soon  perceive  that 
it  was  in  a  matter  essential  to  his  Majesty's  interest  that  he 
had  the  boldness  to  give  her  this  trouble." 

"  You  cannot  oblige  me  more,  my  Lord  Duke, "  replied  the 
Queen,  "  than  by  giving  me  the  advantage  of  your  lights  and 
experience  on  any  point  of  the  King's  service.  Your  Grace 
is  aware  that  I  can  only  be  the  medium  through  which  the 
matter  is  subjected  to  his  Majesty's  superior  wisdom;  and  if 
it  is  a  suit  which  respects  your  Grace  personally,  it  shall  lose 
no  support  by  being  preferred  through  me." 

"It  is  no  suit  of  mine,  madam,"  replied  the  Duke;  "nor 
have  I  any  to  prefer  for  myself  personally,  although  I  feel  in 
full  force  my  obligation  to  your  Majesty.  It  is  a  business 
which  concerns  his  Majesty,  as  a  lover  of  justice  and  of  mercy, 
and  which,  I  am  convinced,  may  be  highly  useful  in  conciliat- 
ing the  unfortunate  irritation  which  at  present  subsists  among 
his  Majesty's  good  subjects  in  Scotland." 

There  were  two  parts  of  this  speech  disagreeable  to  Caro- 
line. In  the  first  place,  it  removed  the  flattering  notion  she 
had  adopted,  that  Argyle  designed  to  use  her  personal  inter- 
cession in  making  his  peace  with  the  administration,  and  re- 
covering the  employments  of  which  he  had  been  deprived ;  and 
28 


434 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


next,  she  was  displeased  that  he  should  talk  of  the  discontents 
in  Scotland  as  irritations  to  be  conciliated,  rather  than  sup- 
pressed. 

Under  the  influence  of  these  feelings,  she  answered  hastily : 
"That  his  Majesty  has  good  subjects  in  England,  my  Lord 
Duke,  he  is  bound  to  thank  God  and  the  laws;  that  he  has 
subjects  in  Scotland,  I  think  he  may  thank  God  and  his 
sword." 

The  Duke,  though  a  courtier,  coloured  slightly,  and  the 
Queen,  instantly  sensible  of  her  error,  added,  without  dis- 
playing the  least  change  of  countenance,  and  as  if  the  words 
had  been  an  original  branch  of  the  sentence,  "  And  the  swords 
of  those  real  Scotchmen  who  are  friends  to  the  house  of 
Brunswick,  particularly  that  of  his  Grace  of  Argyle." 

"  My  sword,  madam, "  replied  the  Duke,  "  like  that  of  my 
fathers,  has  been  always  at  the  command  of  my  lawful  king 
and  of  my  native  country :  I  trust  it  is  impossible  to  separate 
their  real  rights  and  interests.  But  the  present  is  a  matter  of 
more  private  concern,  and  respects  the  person  of  an  obscure 
individual. " 

"  What  is  the  affair,  my  Lord?"  said  the  Queen.  "  Let  us 
find  out  what  we  are  talking  about,  lest  we  should  misconstrue 
and  misunderstand  each  other. " 

"  The  matter,  madam, "  answered  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  "  re- 
gards the  fate  of  an  unfortunate  young  woman  in  Scotland 
now  lying  under  sentence  of  death,  for  a  crime  of  which  I 
think  it  highly  probable  that  she  is  innocent.  And  my  hum- 
ble petition  to  your  Majesty  is,  to  obtain  your  powerful  inter- 
cession with  the  King  for  a  pardon." 

It  was  now  the  Queen's  turn  to  colour,  and  she  did  so  over 
cheek  and  brow,  neck  and  bosom.  She  paused  a  moment,  as 
if  unwilling  to  trust  her  voice  with  the  first  expression  of  her 
displeasure;  and  on  assuming  an  air  of  dignity  and  an  austere 
regard  of  control,  she  at  length  replied :  "  My  Lord  Duke,  I 
will  not  ask  your  motives  for  addressing  to  me  a  request 
which  circumstances  have  rendered  such  an  extraordinary  one. 
Your  road  to  the  King's  closet,  as  a  peer  and  a  privy-councillor, 
entitled  to  request  an  audience,  was  open,  without  giving  me 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


435 


the  pain  of  this  discussion.  I,  at  least,  have  had  enough  of 
Scotch  pardons. " 

The  Duke  was  prepared  for  this  burst  of  indignation,  and 
he  was  not  shaken  by  it.  He  did  not  attempt  a  reply  while 
the  Queen  was  in  the  first  heat  of  displeasure,  but  remained 
in  the  same  firm  yet  respectful  posture  which  he  had  assumed 
during  the  interview.  The  Queen,  trained  from  her  situation 
to  self-command,  instantly  perceived  the  advantage  she  might 
give  against  herself  by  yielding  to  passion ;  and  added,  in  the 
same  condescending  and  affable  tone  in  which  she  had  opened 
the  interview :  "  You  must  allow  me  some  of  the  privileges  of 
the  sex,  my  Lord;  and  do  not  judge  uncharitably  of  me, 
though  I  am  a  little  moved  at  the  recollection  of  the  gross 
insult  and  outrage  done  in  your  capital  city  to  the  royal  au- 
thority, at  the  very  time  when  it  was  vested  in  my  unworthy 
person.  Your  Grace  cannot  be  surprised  that  I  should  both 
have  felt  it  at  the  time  and  recollected  it  now." 

"  It  is  certainly  a  matter  not  speedily  to  be  forgotten, 99  an- 
swered the  Duke.  "  My  own  poor  thoughts  of  it  have  been 
long  before  your  Majesty,  and  I  must  have  expressed  myself 
very  ill  if  I  did  not  convey  my  detestation  of  the  murder  which 
was  committed  under  such  extraordinary  circumstances.  I 
might,  indeed,  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  differ  with  his  Maj- 
esty's advisers  on  the  degree  in  which  it  was  either  just  or 
politic  to  punish  the  innocent  instead  of  the  guilty.  But  I 
trust  your  Majesty  will  permit  me  to  be  silent  on  a  topic  in 
which  my  sentiments  have  not  the  good  fortune  to  coincide 
with  those  of  more  able  men." 

"  We  will  not  prosecute  a  topic  on  which  we  may  probably 
differ, "  said  the  Queen.  "  One  word,  however,  I  may  say  in 
private — you  know  our  good  Lady  Suffolk  is  a  little  deaf: 
the  Duke  of  Argyle,  when  disposed  to  renew  his  acquaintance 
:  with  his  master  and  mistress,  will  hardly  find  many  topics 
on  which  we  should  disagree." 

"Let  me  hope,"  said  the  Duke,  bowing  profoundly  to  so 
flattering  an  intimation,  "that  I  shall  not  be  so  unfortunate 
i   as  to  have  found  one  on  the  present  occasion." 

"  I  must  first  impose  on  your  Grace  the  duty  of  confession, " 


436 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


said  the  Queen,  "before  I  grant  you  absolution.  What  is 
your  particular  interest  in  this  young  woman?  She  does  not 
seem  (and  she  scanned  Jeanie,  as  she  said  this,  with  the  eye 
of  a  connoisseur)  much  qualified  to  alarm  my  friend  the  Duch- 
ess's jealousy." 

"I  think  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  Duke,  smiling  in  his 
turn,  "  will  allow  my  taste  may  be  a  pledge  for  me  on  that 
score. " 

"  Then,  though  she  has  not  much  the  air  d'une  grande 
dame,  I  suppose  she  is  some  thirtieth  cousin  in  the  terrible 
chapter  of  Scottish  genealogy?" 

"No,  madam,"  said  the  Duke;  "but  I  wish  some  of 
my  nearer  relations  had  half  her  worth,  honesty,  and  affec- 
tion." 

"Her  name  must  be  Campbell,  at  least?"  said  Queen  Caro- 
line. 

"  No,  madam ;  her  name  is  not  quite  so  distinguished,  if  I 
may  be  permitted  to  say  so,"  answered  the  Duke. 

"Ah!  but  she  comes  from  Inverary  or  Argyleshire?"  said 
the  Sovereign. 

"  She  has  never  been  farther  north  in  her  life  than  Edin- 
burgh, madam." 

"Then  my  conjectures  are  all  ended,"  said  the  Queen,  "and 
your  Grace  must  yourself  take  the  trouble  to  explain  the  affair 
of  your  protegee. " 

With  that  precision  and  easy  brevity  which  is  only  acquired 
by  habitually  conversing  in  the  higher  ranks  of  society,  and 
which  is  the  diametrical  opposite  of  that  protracted  style  of 
disquisition 

Which  squires  call  potter,  and  which  men  call  prose, 

the  Duke  explained  the  singular  law  under  which  Effie  Deans 
had  received  sentence  of  death,  and  detailed  the  affectionate 
exertions  which  Jeanie  had  made  in  behalf  of  a  sister  for 
whose  sake  she  was  willing  to  sacrifice  all  but  truth  and  con- 
science. 

Queen  Caroline  listened  with  attention;  she  was  rather 
fond,  it  must  be  remembered,  of  an  argument,  and  soon  found 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


437 


matter  in  what  the  Duke  told  her  for  raising  difficulties  to  his 
request. 

"It  appears  to  me,  my  Lord,"  she  replied,  "that  this  is  a 
severe  law.  But  still  it  is  adopted  upon  good  grounds,  I  am 
bound  to  suppose,  as  the  law  of  the  country,  and  the  girl  has 
been  convicted  under  it.  The  very  presumptions  which  the 
law  construes  into  a  positive  proof  of  guilt  exist  in  her  case ; 
and  all  that  your  Grace  has  said  concerning  the  possibility  of 
her  innocence  may  be  a  very  good  argument  for  annulling  the 
Act  of  Parliament,  but  cannot,  while  it  stands  good,  be  ad- 
mitted in  favour  of  any  individual  convicted  upon  the  statute. " 

The  Duke  saw  and  avoided  the  snare ;  for  he  was  conscious 
that,  by  replying  to  the  argument,  he  must  have  been  inevi- 
tably led  to  a  discussion,  in  the  course  of  which  the  Queen  was 
likely  to  be  hardened  in  her  own  opinion  until  she  became 
obliged,  out  of  mere  respect  to  consistency,  to  let  the  criminal 
suffer.  "If  your  Majesty,'7  he  said,  "would  condescend  to 
hear  my  poor  countrywoman  herself,  perhaps  she  may  find 
an  advocate  in  your  own  heart  more  able  than  I  am  to  combat 
the  doubts  suggested  by  your  understanding. " 

The  Queen  seemed  to  acquiesce,  and  the  Duke  made  a  signal 
for  Jeanie  to  advance  from  the  spot  where  she  had  hitherto 
remained  watching  countenances  which  were  too  long  accus- 
tomed to  suppress  all  apparent  signs  of  emotion  to  convey  to 
her  any  interesting  intelligence.  Her  Majesty  could  not  help 
smiling  at  the  awe-struck  manner  in  which  the  quiet  demure 
figure  of  the  little  Scotchwoman  advanced  towards  her,  and 
yet  more  at  the  first  sound  of  her  broad  northern  accent.  But 
Jeanie  had  a  voice  low  and  sweetly  toned,  an  admirable  thing 
in  woman,  and  eke  besought  "  her  Leddyship  to  have  pity  on 
a  poor  misguided  young  creature  "  in  tones  so  affecting  that, 
like  the  notes  of  some  of  her  native  songs,  provincial  vulgarity 
was  lost  in  pathos. 

"  Stand  up,  young  woman, "  said  the  Queen,  but  in  a  kind 
tone,  "  and  tell  me  what  sort  of  a  barbarous  people  your  coun- 
try-folk are,  where  child-murder  is  become  so  common  as  to 
require  the  restraint  of  laws  like  yours?" 

"  If  your  Leddyship  pleases, "  answered  Jeanie,  "  there  are 


438 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


mony  places  besides  Scotland  where  mothers  are  unkind  to  their 
ain  flesh  and  blood. 99 

It  must  be  observed,  that  the  disputes  between  George  the 
Second  and  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  were  then  at  the  high- 
est, and  that  the  good-natured  part  of  the  public  laid  the  blame 
on  the  Queen.  She  coloured  highly,  and  darted  a  glance  of  a 
most  penetrating  character  first  at  Jeanie  and  then  at  the 
Duke.  Both  sustained  it  unmoved — J eanie  from  total  uncon- 
sciousness of  the  offence  she  had  given,  and  the  Duke  from 
his  habitual  composure.  But  in  his  heart  he  thought :  "  My 
unlucky  protegee  has,  with  this  luckless  answer,  shot  dead, 
by  a  kind  of  chance-medley,  her  only  hope  of  success." 

Lady  Suffolk  good-humouredly  and  skilfully  interposed  in 
this  awkward  crisis.  "You  should  tell  this  lady,"  she  said 
to  Jeanie,  "the  particular  causes  which  render  this  crime 
common  in  your  country." 

"Some  thinks  it's  the  kirk-session;  that  is,  it's  the — it's 
the  cutty-stool,  if  your  Leddyship  pleases,"  said  Jeanie,  look- 
ing down  and  courtesying. 

"  The  what?"  said  Lady  Suffolk,  to  whom  the  phrase  was 
new,  and  who  besides  was  rather  deaf. 

"  That's  the  stool  of  repentance,  madam,  if  it  please  your 
Leddyship,"  answered  Jeanie,  "for  light  life  and  conversa- 
tion, and  for  breaking  the  seventh  command."  Here  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  the  Duke,  saw  his  hand  at  his  chin,  and, 
totally  unconscious  of  what  she  had  said  out  of  joint,  gave 
double  effect  to  the  innuendo  by  stopping  short  and  looking 
embarrassed. 

As  for  Lady  Suffolk,  she  retired  like  a  covering  party  which, 
having  interposed  betwixt  their  retreating  friends  and  the 
enemy,  have  suddenly  drawn  on  themselves  a  fire  unexpect- 
edly severe. 

"  The  deuce  take  the  lass, "  thought  the  Duke  of  Argyle  to 
himself ;  "  there  goes  another  shot,  and  she  has  hit  with  both 
barrels  right  and  left!" 

Indeed,  the  Duke  had  himself  his  share  of  the  confusion, 
for,  having  acted  as  master  of  ceremonies  to  this  innocent  of- 
fender, he  felt  much  in  the  circumstances  of  a  country  squire 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


439 


who,  having  introduced  his  spaniel  into  a  well-appointed 
drawing-room,  is  doomed  to  witness  the  disorder  and  damage 
which  arises  to  china  and  to  dress-gowns  in  consequence  of 
its  untimely  frolics.  Jeanie 's  last  chance-hit,  however,  ob- 
literated the  ill  impression  which  had  arisen  from  the  first ; 
for  her  Majesty  had  not  so  lost  the  feelings  of  a  wife  in 
those  of  a  Queen  but  that  she  could  enjoy  a  jest  at  the  expense 
of  "  her  good  Suffolk. "  She  turned  towards  the  Duke  of  Ar- 
gyle  with  a  smile,  which  marked  that  she  enjoyed  the  tri- 
umph, and  observed :  "  The  Scotch  are  a  rigidly  moral  people." 
Then  again  applying  herself  to  Jeanie,  she  asked  how  she 
travelled  up  from  Scotland. 

"Upon  my  foot  mostly,  madam,"  was  the  reply. 

"What,  all  that  immense  way  upon  foot?  How  far  can 
you  walk  in  a  day?" 

"  Five-and-twenty  miles  and  a  bittock." 

"  And  a  what?"  said  the  Queen,  looking  towards  the  Duke 
of  Argyle. 

"  And  about  five  miles  more,"  replied  the  Duke. 

"  I  thought  I  was  a  good  walker, "  said  the  Queen,  "  but  this 
shames  me  sadly." 

"  May  your  Leddyship  never  hae  sae  weary  a  heart  that  ye 
canna  be  sensible  of  the  weariness  of  the  limbs!"  said  Jeanie. 

"That  came  better  off,"  thought  the  Duke;  "it's  the  first 
thing  she  has  said  to  the  purpose." 

"And  I  didna  just  a'thegither  walk  the  haill  way  neither, 
for  I  had  whiles  the  cast  of  a  cart ;  and  I  had  the  cast  of  a 
horse  from  Ferrybridge,  and  divers  other  easements,"  said 
Jeanie,  cutting  short  her  story,  for  she  observed  the  Duke 
made  the  sign  he  had  fixed  upon. 

"With  all  these  accommodations,"  answered  the  Queen, 
"you  must  have  had  a  very  fatiguing  journey,  and,  I  fear, 
to  little  purpose;  since,  if  the  King  were  to  pardon  your  sis- 
ter, in  all  probability  it  would  do  her  little  good,  for  I  sup- 
pose your  people  of  Edinburgh  would  hang  her  out  of  spite." 

"She  will  sink  herself  now  outright,"  thought  the  Duke. 

But  he  was  wrong.  The  shoals  on  which  Jeanie  had  touched 
in  this  delicate  conversation  lay  under  ground,  and  were  un- 


440 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


known  to  her;  this  rock  was  above  water,  and  she  avoided 
it. 

"  She  was  confident, "  she  said,  "  that  baith  town  and  coun- 
try wad  rejoice  to  see  his  Majesty  taking  compassion  on  a  poor 
unfriended  creature." 

"His  Majesty  has  not  found  it  so  in  a  late  instance,"  said 
the  Queen;  "but  I  suppose  my  Lord  Duke  would  advise  him 
to  be  guided  by  the  votes  of  the  rabble  themselves  who  should 
be  hanged  and  who  spared?" 

"No,  madam,"  said  the  Duke;  "but  I  would  advise  his 
Majesty  to  be  guided  by  his  own  feelings,  and  those  of  his 
royal  consort ;  and  then,  I  am  sure,  punishment  will  only  at- 
tach itself  to  guilt,  and  even  then  with  cautious  reluctance." 

"  Well,  my  Lord,"  said  her  Majesty,  "  all  these  fine  speeches 
do  not  convince  me  of  the  propriety  of  so  soon  showing  any 
mark  of  favour  to  your — I  suppose  I  must  not  say  rebellious? — 
but,  at  least,  your  very  disaffected  and  intractable  metropolis. 
Why,  the  whole  nation  is  in  a  league  to  screen  the  savage  and 
abominable  murderers  of  that  unhappy  man ;  otherwise,  how 
is  it  possible  but  that,  of  so  many  perpetrators,  and  engaged 
in  so  public  an  action  for  such  a  length  of  time,  one  at  least 
must  have  been  recognised?  Even  this  wench,  for  aught  I 
can  tell,  may  be  a  depository  of  the  secret.  Hark  you,  young 
woman,  had  you  any  friends  engaged  in  the  Porteous  mob?" 

"No,  madam,"  answered  Jeanie,  happy  that  the  question 
was  so  framed  that  she  could,  with  a  good  conscience,  answer 
it  in  the  negative. 

"But  I  suppose,"  continued  the  Queen,  "if  you  were  pos- 
sessed of  such  a  secret,  you  would  hold  it  matter  of  conscience 
to  keep  it  to  yourself?" 

"  I  would  pray  to  be  directed  and  guided  what  was  the  line 
of  duty,  madam,"  answered  Jeanie. 

"  Yes,  and  take  that  which  suited  your  own  inclinations," 
replied  her  Majesty. 

"If  it  like  you,  madam,"  said  Jeanie,  "I  would  hae  gaen 
to  the  end  of  the  earth  to  savp.  the  life  of  John  Porteous,  or 
any  other  unhappy  man  in  his  condition ;  but  I  might  lawfully 
doubt  how  far  I  am  called  upon  to  be  the  avenger  of  his  blood, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


441 


though  it  may  become  the  civil  magistrate  to  do  so.  He  is 
dead  and  gane  to  his  place,  and  they  that  have  slain  him  must 
answer  for  their  ain  act.  But  my  sister — iny  puir  sister  Effie, 
still  lives,  though  her  days  and  hours  are  numbered !  She  still 
lives,  and  a  word  of  the  King's  mouth  might  restore  her  to  a 
broken-hearted  auld  man,  that  never  in  his  daily  and  nightly 
exercise  forgot  to  pray  that  his  Majesty  might  be  blessed  with 
a  long  and  a  prosperous  reign,  and  that  his  throne,  and  the 
throne  of  his  posterity,  might  be  established  in  righteousness. 
Oh,  madam,  if  ever  ye  kenn'd  what  it  was  to  sorrow  for  and 
with  a  sinning  and  a  suffering  creature,  whose  mind  is  sae  tossed 
that  she  can  be  neither  ca'd  fit  to  live  or  die,  have  some  com- 
passion on  our  misery !  Save  an  honest  house  from  dishonour, 
and  an  unhappy  girl,  not  eighteen  years  of  age,  from  an  early 
and  dreadful  death !  Alas !  it  is  not  when  we  sleep  soft  and 
wake  merrily  ourselves,  that  we  think  on  other  people's  suffer- 
ings. Our  hearts  are  waxed  light  within  us  then,  and  we  are 
for  righting  our  ain  wrangs  and  fighting  our  ain  battles.  But 
when  the  hour  of  trouble  comes  to  the  mind  or  to  the  body — 
and  seldom  may  it  visit  your  Leddyship — and  when  the  hour 
of  death  comes,  that  comes  to  high  and  low — lang  and  late 
may  it  be  yours — oh,  my  Leddy,  then  it  isna  what  we  hae 
dune  for  our  sells,  but  what  we  hae  dune  for  others,  that 
we  think  on  maist  pleasantly.  And  the  thoughts  that  ye  hae 
intervened  to  spare  the  puir  thing's  life  will  be  sweeter  in  that 
hour,  come  when  it  may,  than  if  a  word  of  your  mouth  could 
hang  the  haill  Porteous  mob  at  the  tail  of  ae  tow. " 

Tear  followed  tear  down  Jeanie's  cheeks,  as,  her  features 
glowing  and  quivering  with  emotion,  she  pleaded  her  sister's 
cause  with  a  pathos  which  was  at  once  simple  and  solemn. 

"This  is  eloquence,"  said  her  Majesty  to  the  Duke  of  Ar- 
gyle.  "  Young  woman, "  she  continued,  addressing  herself  to 
Jeanie,  "  I  cannot  grant  a  pardon  to  your  sister,  but  you  shall 
not  want  my  warm  intercession  with  his  Majesty.  Take  this 
housewife  case,"  she  continued,  putting  a  small  embroidered 
needle-case  into  Jeanie's  hands;  "  do  not  open  it  now,  but  at 
your  leisure  you  will  find  something  in  it  which  will  remind 
you  that  you  have  had  an  interview  with  Queen  Caroline." 


442 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Jeanie,  having  her  suspicions  thus  confirmed,  dropped  on 
her  knees,  and  would  have  expanded  herself  in  gratitude ;  but 
the  Duke,  who  was  upon  thorns  lest  she  should  say  more  or 
less  than  just  enough,  touched  his  chin  once  more. 

"  Our  business  is,  I  think,  ended  for  the  present,  my  Lord 
Duke,"  said  the  Queen,  "and,  I  trust,  to  your  satisfaction. 
Hereafter  I  hope  to  see  your  Grace  more  frequently,  both  at 
Richmond  and  St.  James's.  Come,  Lady  Suffolk,  we  must 
wish  his  Grace  good  morning." 

They  exchanged  their  parting  reverences,  and  the  Duke,  so 
soon  as  the  ladies  had  turned  their  backs,  assisted  Jeanie  to 
rise  from  the  ground,  and  conducted  her  back  through  the 
avenue,  which  she  trode  with  the  feeling  of  one  who  walks 
in  her  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

So  soon  as  I  can  win  the  offended  King, 
I  will  be  known  your  advocate. 

Cymbeline. 

The  Duke  of  Argyle  led  the  way  in  silence  to  the  small  pos- 
tern by  which  they  had  been  admitted  into  Richmond  Park,  so 
long  the  favourite  residence  of  Queen  Caroline.  It  was  opened 
by  the  same  half -seen  janitor,  and  they  found  themselves  be- 
yond the  precincts  of  the  royal  demesne.  Still  not  a  word 
was  spoken  on  either  side.  The  Duke  probably  wished  to  al- 
low his  rustic  protegee  time  to  recruit  her  faculties,  dazzled 
and  sunk  with  colloquy  sublime ;  and  betwixt  what  she  had 
guessed,  had  heard,  and  had  seen,  Jeanie  Deans's  mind  was 
too  much  agitated  to  permit  her  to  ask  any  questions. 

They  found  the  carriage  of  the  Duke  in  the  place  where 
they  had  left  it ;  and  when  they  resumed  their  places,  soon 
began  to  advance  rapidly  on  their  return  to  town. 

"I  think,  Jeanie,"  said  the  Duke,  breaking  silence,  "you 
have  every  reason  to  congratulate  yourself  on  the  issue  of  your 
interview  with  her  Majesty." 

"And  that  leddy  was  the  Queen  hersell?"  said  Jeanie;  "I 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


443 


misdoubted  it  when  I  saw  that  your  honour  didna  put  on  your 
hat.  And  yet  I  can  hardly  believe  it  even  when  I  heard  her 
speak  it  hersell." 

"It  was  certainly  Queen  Caroline,"  replied  the  Duke. 
"  Have  you  no  curiosity  to  see  what  is  in  the  little  pocket- 
book?" 

"  Do  you  think  the  pardon  will  be  in  it,  sir?"  said  Jeanie, 
with  the  eager  animation  of  hope. 

"Why,  no,"  replied  the  Duke;  "that  is  unlikely.  They 
seldom  carry  these  things  about  them,  unless  they  were  likely 
to  be  wanted;  and  besides,  her  Majesty  told  you  it  was  the 
King,  not  she,  who  was  to  grant  it." 

"  That  is  true  too, "  said  Jeanie ;  "  but  I  am  so  confused  in 
my  mind.  But  does  your  honour  think  there  is  a  certainty  of 
Enie's  pardon  then?"  continued  she,  still  holding  in  her  hand 
the  unopened  pocket-book. 

"  Why,  kings  are  kittle  cattle  to  shoe  behind,  as  we  say  in 
the  north,"  replied  the  Duke;  "but  his  wife  knows  his  trim, 
and  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  that  the  matter  is  quite  certain." 

"Oh,  God  be  praised!  God  be  praised!"  ejaculated  Jeanie; 
"  and  may  the  gude  leddy  never  want  the  heart's  ease  she  has 
gien  me  at  this  moment.  And  God  bless  you  too,  my  Lord! 
without  your  help  I  wad  ne'er  hae  won  near  her." 

The  Duke  let  her  dwell  upon  this  subject  for  a  considerable 
time,  curious,  perhaps,  to  see  how  long  the  feelings  of  grati- 
tude would  continue  to  supersede  those  of  curiosity.  But  so 
feeble  was  the  latter  feeling  in  Jeanie' s  mind,  that  his  Grace, 
with  whom,  perhaps,  it  was  for  the  time  a  little  stronger,  was 
obliged  once  more  to  bring  forward  the  subject  of  the  Queen's 
present.  It  was  opened  accordingly.  In  the  inside  of  the 
case  was  the  usual  assortment  of  silk  and  needles,  with  scis- 
sors, tweezers,  etc. ;  and  in  the  pocket  was  a  bank-bill  for 
fifty  pounds. 

The  Duke  had  no  sooner  informed  Jeanie  of  the  value  of 
this  last  document,  for  she  was  unaccustomed  to  see  notes  for 
such  sums,  than  she  expressed  her  regret  at  the  mistake  which 
had  taken  place.  "For  the  hussy  itsell,"  she  said,  "was  a 
very  valuable  thing  for  a  keepsake,  with  the  Queen's  name 


444 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


written  in  the  inside  with  her  ain  hand  doubtless — Caroline 
— as  plain  as  could  be,  and  a  crown  drawn  aboon  it. "  She 
therefore  tendered  the  bill  to  the  Duke,  requesting  him  to  find 
some  mode  of  returning  it  to  the  royal  owner. 

"  No,  no,  Jeanie, "  said  the  Duke,  "  there  is  no  mistake  in 
the  case.  Her  Majesty  knows  you  have  been  put  to  great 
expense,  and  she  wishes  to  make  it  up  to  you." 

"  I  am  sure  she  is  even  ower  gude, "  said  Jeanie,  "  and  it 
glads  me  muckle  that  I  can  pay  back  Dumbiedikes  his  siller, 
without  distressing  my  father,  honest  man." 

"Dumbiedikes!  What,  a  freeholder  of  Midlothian,  is  he 
not?"  said  his  Grace,  whose  occasional  residence  in  that 
county  made  him  acquainted  with  most  of  the  heritors,  as 
landed  persons  are  termed  in  Scotland.  "  He  has  a  house  not 
far  from  Dalkeith,  wears  a  black  wig  and  a  laced  hat?" 

"  Yes,  sir, "  answered  Jeanie,  who  had  her  reasons  for  being 
brief  in  her  answers  upon  this  topic. 

"Ah!  my  old  friend  Dumbie!"  said  the  Duke;  "I  have 
thrice  seen  him  fou,  and  only  once  heard  the  sound  of  his 
voice.    Is  he  a  cousin  of  yours,  Jeanie?" 

"No,  sir — my  Lord." 

"Then  he  must  be  a  well-wisher,  I  suspect?" 

"  Ye — yes,  my  Lord,  sir, "  answered  Jeanie,  blushing,  and 
with  hesitation. 

"  Aha!  then,  if  the  Laird  starts,  I  suppose  my  friend  Butler 
must  be  in  some  danger?" 

"Oh  no,  sir,"  answered  Jeanie  much  more  readily,  but  at 
the  same  time  blushing  much  more  deeply. 

"Well,  Jeanie,"  said  the  Duke,  "you  are  a  girl  ma}'  be 
safely  trusted  with  your  own  matters,  and  I  shall  inquire  no 
further  about  them.  But  as  to  this  same  pardon,  I  must  see 
to  get  it  passed  through  the  proper  forms;  and  I  have  a 
friend  in  office  who  will,  for  auld  lang  syne,  do  me  so  much 
favour.  And  then,  Jeanie,  as  I  shall  have  occasion  to  send 
an  express  down  to  Scotland,  who  will  travel  with  it  safer 
and  more  swiftly  than  you  can  do,  I  will  take  care  to  have  it 
put  into  the  proper  channel ;  meanwhile,  you  may  write  to 
your  friends,  by  post,  of  your  good  success." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


445 


"And  does  your  honour  think/'  said  Jeanie,  "that  will  do 
as  weel  as  if  I  were  to  take  my  tap  in  my  lap,  and  slip  my 
ways  hame  again  on  my  ain  errand?" 

"  Much  better,  certainly, "  said  the  Duke.  "  You  know  the 
roads  are  not  very  safe  for  a  single  woman  to  travel." 

Jeanie  internally  acquiesced  in  this  observation. 

"And  I  have  a  plan  for  you  besides.  One  of  the  Duchess's 
attendants,  and  one  of  mine — your  acquaintance  Archibald — 
are  going  down  to  Inverary  in  a  light  calash,  with  four  horses 
I  have  bought,  and  there  is  room  enough  in  the  carriage  for 
you  to  go  with  them  as  far  as  Glasgow,  where  Archibald  will 
find  means  of  sending  you  safely  to  Edinburgh.  And  in  the 
way,  I  beg  you  will  teach  the  woman  as  much  as  you  can  of 
the  mystery  of  cheese-making,  for  she  is  to  have  a  charge  in 
the  dairy,  and  I  dare  swear  you  are  as  tidy  about  your  milk- 
pail  as  about  your  dress." 

"Does  your  honour  like  cheese?"  said  Jeanie,  with  a  gleam 
of  conscious  delight  as  she  asked  the  question. 

"Like  it!"  said  the  Duke,  whose  good-nature  anticipated 
what  was  to  follow — "  cakes  and  cheese  are  a  dinner  for  an 
emperor,  let  alone  a  Highlandman." 

"  Because, "  said  Jeanie,  with  modest  confidence,  and  great 
and  evident  self- gratulat ion,  "  we  have  been  thought  so  par- 
ticular in  making  cheese,  that  some  folk  think  it  as  gude  as 
the  real  Dunlop;  and  if  your  Honour's  Grace  wad  but  accept 
a  stane  or  twa,  blythe,  and  fain,  and  proud  it  wad  make  us! 
But  maybe  ye  may  like  the  ewe-milk,  that  is,  the  Buckholm- 
side  1  cheese  better ;  or  maybe  the  gait-milk,  as  ye  come  f rae 
the  Highlands — and  I  canna  pretend  just  to  the  same  skeel 
o'  them;  but  my  cousin  Jean,  that  lives  at  Lockermachus  in 
Lammermuir,  I  could  speak  to  her,  and  " 

"Quite  unnecessary,"  said  the  Duke;  "the  Dunlop  is  the 
very  cheese  of  which  I  am  so  fond,  and  I  will  take  it  as  the 
greatest  favour  you  can  do  me  to  send  one  to  Caroline  Park. 
But  remember,  be  on  honour  with  it,  Jeanie,  and  make  it  all 
yourself,  for  I  am  a  real  good  judge." 

"  I  am  not  feared, "  said  Jeanie,  confidently,  "  that  I  may 
1  See  Buckholmside  Cheese.    Note  30. 


446 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


please  your  honour;  for  I  am  sure  you  look  as  if  you  could 
hardly  find  fault  wi'  ony  body  that  did  their  best;  and  weel 
is  it  my  part,  I  trow,  to  do  mine." 

This  discourse  introduced  a  topic  upon  which  the  two  trav- 
ellers, though  so  different  in  rank  and  education,  found  each 
a  good  deal  to  say.  The  Duke,  besides  his  other  patriotic 
qualities,  was  a  distinguished  agriculturist,  and  proud  of  his 
knowledge  in  that  department.  He  entertained  Jeanie  with 
his  observations  on  the  different  breeds  of  cattle  in  Scotland, 
and  their  capacity  for  the  dairy,  and  received  so  much  infor- 
mation from  her  practical  experience  in  return,  that  he  prom- 
ised her  a  couple  of  Devonshire  cows  in  reward  for  the  lesson. 
In  short,  his  mind  was  so  transported  back  to  his  rural  em- 
ployments and  amusements,  that  he  sighed  when  his  carriage 
stopped  opposite  to  the  old  hackney-coach,  which  Archibald 
had  kept  in  attendance  at  the  place  where  they  had  left  it. 
While  the  coachman  again  bridled  his  lean  cattle,  which  had 
been  indulged  with  a  bite  of  musty  hay,  the  Duke  cautioned 
Jeanie  not  to  be  too  communicative  to  her  landlady  concern- 
ing what  had  passed.  "  There  is, "  he  said,  "  no  use  of  speak- 
ing of  matters  till  they  are  actually  settled ;  and  you  may  re- 
fer the  good  lady  to  Archibald,  if  she  presses  you  hard  with 
questions.  She  is  his  old  acquaintance,  and  he  knows  how 
to  manage  with  her. " 

He  then  took  a  cordial  farewell  of  Jeanie,  and  told  her  to 
be  ready  in  the  ensuing  week  to  return  to  Scotland,  saw  her 
safely  established  in  her  hackney-coach,  and  rolled  off  in  his 
own  carriage,  humming  a  stanza  of  the  ballad  which  he  is 
said  to  have  composed : 

"  At  the  sight  of  Dumbarton  once  again, 
I'll  cock  up  my  bonnet  and  march  amain, 
With  my  claymore  hanging  down  to  my  heel, 
To  whang  at  the  bannocks  of  barley  meal." 

Perhaps  one  ought  to  be  actually  a  Scotchman  to  conceive 
how  ardently,  under  all  distinctions  of  rank  and  situation, 
they  feel  their  mutual  connexion  with  each  other  as  natives 
of  the  same  country.    There  are,  I  believe,  more  associations 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


447 


common  to  the  inhabitants  of  a  rude  and  wild  than  of  a  well- 
cultivated  and  fertile  country :  their  ancestors  have  more  sel- 
dom changed  their  place  of  residence ;  their  mutual  recollec- 
tion of  remarkable  objects  is  more  accurate;  the  high  and  the 
low  are  more  interested  in  each  other's  welfare;  the  feelings 
of  kindred  and  relationship  are  more  widely  extended;  and, 
in  a  word,  the  bonds  of  patriotic  affection,  always  honourable 
even  when  a  little  too  exclusievly  strained,  have  more  influ- 
ence on  men's  feelings  and  actions. 

The  rumbling  hackney-coach  which  tumbled  over  the  (then) 
execrable  London  pavement  at  a  rate  very  different  from  that 
which  had  conveyed  the  ducal  carriage  to  Eichmond,  at  length 
deposited  Jeanie  Deans  and  her  attendant  at  the  national  sign 
of  the  Thistle.  Mrs.  Glass,  who  had  been  in  long  and  anx- 
ious expectation,  now  rushed,  full  of  eager  curiosity  and  open- 
mouthed  interrogation,  upon  our  heroine,  who  was  positively 
unable  to  sustain  the  overwhelming  cataract  of  her  questions, 
which  burst  forth  with  the  sublimity  of  a  grand  gardyloo : 
"Had  she  seen  the  Duke,  God  bless  him! — the  Duchess — the 
young  ladies?  Had  she  seen  the  King,  God  bless  him! — the 
Queen — the  Prince  of  Wales — the  Princess — or  any  of  the  rest 
of  the  royal  family?  Had  she  got  her  sister's  pardon?  Was 
it  out  and  out,  or  was  it  only  a  commutation  of  punishment? 
How  far  had  she  gone — where  had  she  driven  to — whom  had 
she  seen — what  had  been  said — what  had  kept  her  so  long?" 

Such  were  the  various  questions  huddled  upon  each  other 
by  a  curiosity  so  eager  that  it  could  hardly  wait  for  its  own 
gratification.  Jeanie  would  have  been  more  than  sufficiently 
embarrassed  by  this  overbearing  tide  of  interrogations,  had 
not  Archibald,  who  had  probably  received  from  his  master  a 
hint  to  that  purpose,  advanced  to  her  rescue.  "Mrs.  Glass," 
said  Archibald,  "his  Grace  desired  me  particularly  to  say, 
that  he  would  take  it  as  a  great  favour  if  you  would  ask  the 
young  woman  no  questions,  as  he  wishes  to  explain  to  you 
more  distinctly  than  she  can  do  how  her  affairs  stand,  and 
consult  you  on  some  matters  which  she  cannot  altogether  so 
well  explain.  The  Duke  will  call  at  the  Thistle  to-morrow 
or  next  day  for  that  purpose." 


448 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"His  Grace  is  very  condescending, "  said  Mrs.  Glass,  hei 
zeal  for  inquiry  slaked  for  the  present  by  the  dexterous  ad- 
ministration of  this  sugar-plum;  "his  Grace  is  sensible  that  1 
am  in  a  manner  accountable  for  the  conduct  of  my  young  kins- 
woman, and  no  doubt  his  Grace  is  the  best  judge  how  far 
he  should  entrust  her  or  me  with  the  management  of  her 
affairs." 

"  His  Grace  is  quite  sensible  of  that, "  answered  Archibald, 
with  national  gravity,  "  and  will  certainly  trust  what  he  has 
to  say  to  the  most  discreet  of  the  two;  and  therefore,  Mrs. 
Glass,  his  Grace  relies  you  will  speak  nothing  to  Mrs.  Jean 
Deans,  either  of  her  own  affairs  or  her  sister's,  until  he  sees 
you  himself.  He  desired  me  to  assure  you,  in  the  mean  while, 
that  all  was  going  on  as  well  as  your  kindness  could  wish, 
Mrs.  Glass." 

"  His  Grace  is  very  kind — very  considerate ;  certainly,  Mr. 

Archibald,  his  Grace's  commands  shall  be  obeyed,  and  

But  you  have  had  a  far  drive,  Mr.  Archibald,  as  I  guess  by 
the  time  of  your  absence,  and  I  guess  (with  an  engaging  smile) 
you  winna  be  the  waur  o'  a  glass  of  the  right  Eosa  Solis." 
•  "I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Glass,"  said  the  great  man's  great  man, 
"  but  I  am  under  the  necessity  of  returning  to  my  Lord  di- 
rectly." And  making  his  adieus  civilly  to  both  cousins,  he 
left  the  shop  of  the  lady  of  the  Thistle. 

"  I  am  glad  your  affairs  have  prospered  so  well,  Jeanie,  my 
love,"  said  Mrs.  Glass;  "though,  indeed,  there  was  little  fear 
of  them  so  soon  as  the  Duke  of  Argyle  was  so  condescending 
as  to  take  them  into  hand.  I  will  ask  you  no  questions  about 
them,  because  his  Grace,  who  is  most  considerate  and  prudent 
in  such  matters,  intends  to  tell  me  all  that  you  ken  yourself, 
dear,  and  doubtless  a  great  deal  more;  so  that  anything  that 
may  lie  heavily  on  your  mind  may  be  imparted  to  me  in  the 
mean  time,  as  you  see  it  is  his  Grace's  pleasure  that  I  should 
be  made  acquainted  with  the  whole  matter  forthwith,  and 
whether  you  or  he  tells  it  will  make  no  difference  in  the 
world,  ye  ken.  If  I  ken  what  he  is  going  to  say  beforehand, 
I  will  be  much  more  ready  to  give  my  advice,  and  whether 
you  or  he  tell  me  about  it  cannot  much  signify  after  all,  my 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


449 


dear.  So  you  may  just  say  whatever  you  like,  only  mind  I 
ask  you  no  questions  about  it." 

Jeanie  was  a  little  embarrassed.  She  thought  that  the 
communication  she  had  to  make  was  perhaps  the  only  means 
she  might  have  in  her  power  to  gratify  her  friendly  and  hos- 
pitable kinswoman.  But  her  prudence  instantly  suggested 
that  her  secret  interview  with  Queen  Caroline,  which  seemed 
to  pass  under  a  certain  sort  of  mystery,  was  not  a  proper  sub- 
ject for  the  gossip  of  a  woman  like  Mrs.  Glass,  of  whose  heart 
she  had  a  much  better  opinion  than  of  her  p Midence.  She, 
therefore,  answered  in  general,  "  That  the  Duke  had  had  the 
extraordinary  kindness  to  make  very  particular  inquiries  into 
her  sister's  bad  affair,  and  that  he  thought  he  had  found  the 
means  of  putting  it  a'  straight  again,  but  that  he  proposed  to 
tell  all  that  he  thought  about  the  matter  to  Mrs.  Glass  her- 
self." 

This  did  not  quite  satisfy  the  penetrating  mistress  of  the 
Thistle.  Searching  as  her  own  small  rappee,  she,  in  spite  of 
her  promise,  urged  Jeanie  with  still  further  questions.  "  Had 
she  been  a'  that  time  at  Argyle  House?  Was  the  Duke  with 
her  the  whole  time?  and  had  she  seen  the  Duchess?  and  had 
she  seen  the  young  ladies,  and  specially  Lady  Caroline  Camp- 
bell?" To  these  questions  Jeanie  gave  the  general  reply,  "  That 
she  knew  so  little  of  the  town  that  she  could  not  tell  exactly 
where  she  had  been ;  that  she  had  not  seen  the  Duchess  to  her 
knowledge ;  that  she  had  seen  two  ladies,  one  of  whom,  she 
understood,  bore  the  name  of  Caroline;  and  more,"  she  said, 
"she  could  not  tell  about  the  matter." 

"It  would  be  the  Duke's  eldest  daughter,  Lady  Caroline 
Campbell,  there  is  no  doubt  of  that, "  said  Mrs.  Glass ;  "  but, 
doubtless,  I  shall  know  more  particularly  through  his  Grace. 
And  so,  as  the  cloth  is  laid  in  the  little  parlour  above  stairs, 
and  it  is  past  three  o'clock — for  I  have  been  waiting  this  hour 
for  you,  and  I  have  had  a  snack  myself — and,  as  they  used  to 
say  in  Scotland  in  my  time — I  do  not  ken  if  the  word  be  used 
now — there  is  ill  talking  between  a  full  body  and  a  fast- 
ing—" 

29 


450 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


CHAPTEE  XXXIX. 

Heaven  first  sent  letters  to  some  wretch's  aid — 
Some  banish' d  lover,  or  some  captive  maid,. 

Pope. 

By  dint  of  unwonted  labour  with  the  pen,  Jeanie  Deans 
contrived  to  indite,  and  give  to  the  charge  of  the  postman  on 
the  ensuing  day,  no  less  than  three  letters,  an  exertion  alto- 
gether strange  to  her  habits ;  insomuch  so  that,  if  milk  had 
been  plenty,  she  would  rather  have  made  thrice  as  many  Dun- 
lop  cheeses.  The  first  of  them  was  very  brief.  It  was  ad- 
dressed to  George  Staunton,  Esq.,  at  the  Rectory,  Willing- 
ham,  by  Grantham ;  the  address  being  part  of  the  information 
which  she  had  extracted  from  the  communicative  peasant  who 
rode  before  her  to  Stamford,    It  was  in  these  words : 

"Sir: 

"To  prevent  farder  mischieves,  whereof  there  hath  been 
enough,  comes  these:  Sir,  I  have  my  sister's  pardon  from  the 
Queen's  Majesty,  whereof  I  do  not  doubt  you  will  be  glad, 
having  had  to  say  naut  of  matters  whereof  you  know  the  pur- 
port. So,  sir,  I  pray  for  your  better  welfare  in  bodie  and 
soul,  and  that  it  will  please  the  fisycian  to  visit  you  in  His 
good  time.  Alwaies,  sir,  I  pray  you  will  never  come  again 
to  see  my  sister,  whereof  there  has  been  too  much.  And  so, 
wishing  you  no  evil,  but  even  your  best  good,  that  you  may 
be  turned  from  your  iniquity — for  why  suld  ye  die? — I  rest 
your  humble  servant  to  command,  Ye  ken  wha." 

The  next  letter  was  to  her  father.  It  was  too  long  alto- 
gether for  insertion,  so  we  only  give  a  few  extracts.  It  com- 
menced : 

"Dearest  and  truly  honoured  Father: 

"  This  comes  with  my  duty  to  inform  you,  that  it  has 
pleased  God  to  redeem  that  captivitie  of  my  poor  sister,  in 
respect  the  Queen's  blessed  Majesty,  for  whom  we  are  ever 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


451 


bound  to  pray,  hath  redeemed  her  soul  from  the  slayer,  grant- 
ing the  ransom  of  her,  whilk  is  ane  pardon  or  reprieve.  And 
I  spoke  with  the  Queen  face  to  face,  and  yet  live ;  for  she  is 
not  muckle  differing  from  other  grand  leddies,  saving  that  she 
has  a  stately  presence,  and  een  like  a  blue  hunt  in '-hawk's, 
whilk  gaed  throu'  and  throu'  me  like  a  Hieland  durk.  And 
all  this  good  was,  alway  under  the  Great  Giver,  to  whom  all 
#re  but  instruments,  wrought  forth  for  us  by  the  Duk  of  Argile, 
wha  is  ane  native  true-hearted  Scotsman,  and  not  pridefu', 
like  other  folk  we  ken  of ;  and  likewise  skeely  enow  in  bestial, 
whereof  he  has  promised  to  gie  me  twa  Devonshire  kye,  of 
which  he  is  enamoured,  although  I  do  still  haud  by  the  real 
hawkit  Airshire  breed ;  and  I  have  promised  him  a  cheese ; 
and  I  wad  wuss  ye,  if  Gowans,  the  brockit  cow,  has  a  quey, 
that  she  snld  suck  her  fill  of  milk,  as  I  am  given  to  understand 
he  has  none  of  that  breed,  and  is  not  scornfu',  but  will  take 
a  thing  f rae  a  puir  body,  that  it  may  lighten  their  heart  of 
the  loading  of  debt  that  they  awe  him.  Also  his  Honour  the 
Duke  will  accept  ane  of  our  Dunlop  cheeses,  and  it  sail  be  my 
faut  if  a  better  was  ever  yearned  in  Lowden.  (Here  follow 
some  observations  respecting  the  breed  of  cattle  and  the  prod- 
uce of  the  dairy,  which  it  is  our  intention  to  forward  to  the 
Board  of  Agriculture.)  Nevertheless,  these  are  but  matters 
of  the  after-harvest,  in  respect  of  the  great  good  which  Provi- 
dence hath  gifted  us  with,  and,  in  especial,  poor  EfhVs  life. 
And,  oh,  my  dear  father,  since  it  hath  pleased  God  to  be  mer- 
ciful to  her,  let  her  not  want  your  free  pardon,  whilk  will 
make  her  meet  to  be  ane  vessel  of  grace,  and  also  a  comfort 
to  your  ain  graie  hairs.  Dear  father,  will  ye  let  the  Laird 
ken  that  we  have  had  friends  strangely  raised  up  to  us,  and 
that  the  talent  whilk  he  lent  me  will  be  thankfully  repaid?  I 
hae  some  of  it  to  the  fore ;  and  the  rest  of  it  is  not  knotted  up 
in  ane  purse  or  napkin,  but  in  ane  wee  bit  paper,  as  is  the 
fashion  heir,  whilk  I  am  assured  is  gude  for  the  siller.  And, 
dear  father,  through  Mr.  Butler's  means  I  hae  gude  friendship 
with  the  Duke,  for  there  had  been  kindness  between  their 
forbears  in  the  auld  troublesome  time  bye-past.  And  Mrs. 
Glass  has  been  kind  like  my  very  mother.    She  has  a  braw 


452 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


house  here,  and  lives  Men  and  warm,  wi'  twa  servant  lasses, 
and  a  man  and  a  callant  in  the  shop.  And  she  is  to  send  you 
doun  a  pound  of  her  hie-dried,  and  some  other  tobaka,  and  we 
maun  think  of  some  propine  for  her,  since  her  kindness  hath 
been  great.  And  the  Duk  is  to  send  the  pardun  doun  by  an 
express  messenger,  in  respect  that  I  canna  travel  sae  fast ;  and 
I  am  to  come  doun  wi'  twa  of  his  Honour's  servants — that  is, 
John  Archibald,  a  decent  elderly  gentleman,  that  says  he  has 
seen  you  lang  syne,  when  ye  were  buying  beasts  in  the  west 
f rae  the  Laird  of  Aughtermuggitie — but  maybe  ye  winna  mind 
him — ony  way,  he's  a  civil  man—and  Mrs.  Dolly  Dutton,  that 
is  to  be  dairymaid  at  Inverara;  and  they  bring  me  on  as  far 
as  Glasgo',  whilk  will  make  it  nae  pinch  to  win  hame,  whilk 
I  desire  of  all  things.  May  the  Giver  of  all  good  things  keep 
ye  in  your  outgauns  and  incomings,  whereof  devoutly  prayeth 
your  loving  dauter,  Jean  Deans." 

The  third  letter  was  to  Butler,  and  its  tenor  as  follows : 

"  Master  Butler  : 

"  Sir — It  will  be  pleasure  to  you  to  ken  that  all  I  came 
for  is,  thanks  be  to  God,  weel  dune  and  to  the  gude  end,  and 
that  your  forbear's  letter  was  right  welcome  to  the  Duke  of 
Argile,  and  that  he  wrote  your  name  down  with  a  keelyvine 
pen  in  a  leathern  book,  whereby  it  seems  like  he  will  do  for 
you  either  wi'  a  scule  or  a  kirk;  he  has  enow  of  baith,  as  I 
am  assured.  And  I  have  seen  the  Queen,  which  gave  me  a 
hussy-case  out  of  her  own  hand.  She  had  not  her  crown  and 
skeptre,  but  they  are  laid  by  for  her,  like  the  bairn's  best 
claise,  to  be  worn  when  she  needs  them.  And  they  are  keepit 
in  a  tour,  whilk  is  not  like  the  tour  of  Liberton,  nor  yet  Craig- 
millar,  but  mair  like  to  the  castell  of  Edinburgh,  if  the  build- 
ings were  taen  and  set  down  in  the  midst  of  the  Nor'  Loch. 
Also  the  Queen  was  very  bounteous,  giving  me  a  paper  worth 
fiftie  pounds,  as  I  am  assured,  to  pay  my  expenses  here  and 
back  agen.  Sae,  Master  Butler,  as  we  were  aye  neebours' 
bairns,  forbye  ony  thing  else  that  may  hae  been  spoken  be- 
tween us,  I  trust  you  winna  skrimp  yoursell  for  what  is  need- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


453 


fa'  for  your  health,  since  it  signifies  not  muckle  whilk  o'  us 
has  the  siller,  if  the  other  wants  it.  And  mind  this  is  no 
meant  to  haud  ye  to  ony  thing  whilk  ye  wad  rather  forget,  if 
ye  suld  get  a  charge  of  a  kirk  or  a  scule,  as  above  said.  Only 
I  hope  it  will  be  a  scule,  and  not  a  kirk,  because  of  these  diffi- 
culties anent  aiths  and  patronages,  whilk  might  gang  ill  doun 
wi'  my  honest  father.  Only  if  ye  could  compass  a  harmonious 
call  frae  the  parish  of  Skreegh-me-dead,  as  ye  anes  had  hope 
of,  I  trow  it  wad  please  him  weel ;  since  I  hae  heard  him  say 
that  the  root  of  the  matter  was  mair  deeply  hafted  in  that  wild 
muirland  parish  than  in  the  Canongate  of  Edinburgh.  I  wish 
I  had  whaten  books  ye  wanted,  Mr.  Butler,  for  they  hae  haill 
houses  of  them  here,  and  they  are  obliged  to  set  sum  out  in 
the  street,  whilk  are  said  cheap,  doubtless  to  get  them  out  of 
the  weather.  It  is  a  muckle  place,  and  I  hae  seen  sae  muckle 
of  it  that  my  poor  head  turns  round.  And  ye  ken  langsyne  I 
am  nae  great  pen-woman,  and  it  is  near  eleven  o'clock  o'  the 
night.  I  am  cumming  down  in  good  company,  and  safe ;  and 
I  had  troubles  in  gaun  up,  whilk  makes  me  blyther  of  travel- 
ling wi'  kenn'd  folk.  My  cousin,  Mrs.  Glass,  has  a  braw 
house  here,  but  a' thing  is  sae  poisoned  wi'  snuff  that  I  am 
like  to  be  scomfished  whiles.  But  what  signifies  these  things, 
in  comparison  of  the  great  deliverance  whilk  has  been  vouch- 
safed to  my  father's  house,  in  whilk  you,  as  our  auld  and  dear 
well-wisher,  will,  I  doubt  not,  rejoice  and  be  exceedingly  glad? 
And  I  am,  dear  Mr.  Butler,  your  sincere  well-wisher  in  tem- 
poral and  eternal  things,  J.  D." 

After  these  labours  of  an  unwonted  kind,  J eanie  retired  to 
her  bed,  yet  scarce  could  sleep  a  few  minutes  together,  so 
often  was  she  awakened  by  the  heart-stirring  consciousness  of 
her  sister's  safety,  and  so  powerfully  urged  to  deposit  her 
burden  of  joy  where  she  had  before  laid  her  doubts  and  sor- 
rows, in  the  warm  and  sincere  exercises  of  devotion. 

All  the  next,  and  all  the  succeeding  day,  Mrs.  Glass  fidgeted 
about  her  shop  in  the  agony  of  expectation,  like  a  pea — to  use 
a  vulgar  simile  which  her  profession  renders  appropriate — 
upon  one  of  her  own  tobacco-pipes.    With  the  third  morning 


454 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


came  the  expected  coach,  with  four  servants  clustered  behind 
on  the  foot-board,  in  dark  brown  and  yellow  liveries ;  the  Duke 
in  person,  with  laced  coat,  gold-headed  cane,  star  and  garter — 
all,  as  the  story-book  says,  very  grand. 

He  inquired  for  his  little  countrywoman  of  Mrs.  Glass,  but 
without  requesting  to  see  her,  probably  because  he  was  un- 
willing to  give  an  appearance  of  personal  intercourse  betwixt 
them  which  scandal  might  have  misinterpreted.  "  The  Queen, " 
he  said  to  Mrs.  Glass,  "  had  taken  the  case  of  her  kinswoman 
into  her  gracious  consideration,  and  being  specially  moved  by 
the  affectionate  and  resolute  character  of  the  elder  sister,  had 
condescended  to  use  her  powerful  intercession  with  his  Majesty, 
in  consequence  of  which  a  pardon  had  been  despatched  to  Scot- 
land to  Effie  Deans,  on  condition  of  her  banishing  herself  forth 
of  Scotland  for  fourteen  years.  The  King's  Advocate  had 
insisted,"  he  said,  "upon  this  qualification  of  the  pardon, 
having  pointed  out  to  his  Majesty's  ministers  that,  within  the 
course  of  only  seven  years,  twenty-one  instances  of  child-mur- 
der had  occurred  in  Scotland. " 

"Weary  on  him!"  said  Mrs.  Glass,  "what  for  needed  he 
to  have  telled  that  of  his  ain  country,  and  to  the  English  folk 
abune  a'  ?  I  used  aye  to  think  the  Advocate  1  a  douce  decent 
man,  but  it  is  an  ill  bird — begging  your  Grace's  pardon  for 
speaking  of  such  a  coorse  bye- word.  And  then  what  is  the 
poor  lassie  to  do  in  a  foreign  land?  Why,  wae's  me,  it's  just 
sending  her  to  play  the  same  pranks  ower  again,  out  of  sight 
or  guidance  of  her  friends." 

"Pooh!  pooh!"  said  the  Duke,  "that  need  not  be  antici- 
pated. Why,  she  may  come  up  to  London,  or  she  may  go 
over  to  America,  and  marry  well  for  all  that  is  come  and  gone." 

"  In  troth,  and  so  she  may,  as  your  Grace  is  pleased  to  inti- 
mate," replied  Mrs.  Glass;  "and  now  I  think  upon  it,  there 
is  my  old  correspondent  in  Virginia,  Ephraim  Buckskin,  that 
has  supplied  the  Thistle  this  forty  years  with  tobacco,  and  it 
is  not  a  little  that  serves  our  turn,  and  he  has  been  writing  to 
me  this  ten  years  to  send  him  out  a  wife.    The  carle  is  not 

1  The  celebrated  Duncan  Forbes,  soon  afterwards  Lord  President  of  the 
College  of  Justice,  was  at  this  time  Lord  Advocate. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


455 


above  sixty,  and  hale  and  hearty,  and  well-to-pass  in  the 
world,  and  a  line  from  my  hand  would  settle  the  matter,  and 
Effie  Deans 's  misfortune — for  bye  that  there  is  no  special  occa- 
sion to  speak  about  it — would  be  thought  little  of  there." 

"  Is  she  a  pretty  girl?"  said  the  Duke;  " her  sister  does  not 
get  beyond  a  good  comely  sonsy  lass." 

"  Oh,  far  prettier  is  Effie  than  Jeanie, 99  said  Mrs.  Glass, 
"  though  it  is  long  since  I  saw  her  mysell ;  but  I  hear  of  the 
Deanses  by  all  my  Lowden  friends  when  they  come;  your 
Grace  kens  we  Scots  are  clannish  bodies." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  us, 99  said  the  Duke,  "  and  the  worse 
for  those  who  meddle  with  us,  as  your  good  old-fashioned  Scots 
sign  says,  Mrs.  Glass.  And  now  I  hope  you  will  approve  of 
the  measures  I  have  taken  for  restoring  your  kinswoman  to 
her  friends."  These  he  detailed  at  length,  and  Mrs.  Glass 
gave  her  unqualified  approbation,  with  a  smile  and  courtesy  at 
every  sentence.  "  And  now,  Mrs.  Glass,  you  must  tell  Jeanie 
I  hope  she  will  not  forget  my  cheese  when  she  gets  down 
to  Scotland.  Archibald  has  my  orders  to  arrange  all  her  ex- 
penses." 

"Begging  your  Grace's  humble  pardon,"  said  Mrs.  Glass, 
"it's  a  pity  to  trouble  yourself  about  them;  the  Deanses  are 
wealthy  people  in  their  way,  and  the  lass  has  money  in  her 
pocket. " 

"That's  all  very  true,"  said  the  Duke;  "but  you  know, 
where  MacCallummore  travels  he  pays  all :  it  is  our  Highland 
privilege  to  take  from  all  what  we  want,  and  to  give  to  all 
what  they  want. " 

"Your  Grace's  better  at  giving  than  taking,"  said  Mrs. 
Glass. 

"  To  show  you  the  contrary, "  said  the  Duke,  "  I  will  fill  my 
box  out  of  this  canister  without  paying  you  a  bawbee" ;  and 
again  desiring  to  be  remembered  to  Jeanie,  with  his  good 
wishes  for  her  safe  journey,  he  departed,  leaving  Mrs.  Glass 
uplifted  in  heart  and  in  countenance,  the  proudest  and  happi- 
est of  tobacco  and  snuff  dealers. 

Reflectively,  his  Grace's  good-humour  and  affability  had  a 
favourable  effect  upon  Jeanie's  situation.    Her  kinswoman, 


4S6 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


though  civil  and  kind  to  her,  had  acquired  too  much  of  Lon- 
don breeding  to  be  perfectly  satisfied  with  her  cousin's  rustic 
and  national  dress,  and  was,  besides,  something  scandalised  at 
the  cause  of  her  journey  to  London.  Mrs.  Glass  might,  there- 
fore, have  been  less  sedulous  in  her  attentions  towards  Jeanie, 
but  for  the  interest  which  the  foremost  of  the  Scottish  nobles 
(for  such,  in  all  men's  estimation,  was  the  Duke  of  Argyle) 
seemed  to  take  in  her  fate.  Now,  however,  as  a  kinswoman 
whose  virtues  and  domestic  affections  had  attracted  the  notice 
and  approbation  of  royalty  itself,  Jeanie  stood  to  her  relative 
in  a  light  very  different  and  much  more  favourable,  and  was 
not  only  treated  with  kindness,  but  with  actual  observance 
and  respect. 

It  depended  upon  herself  alone  to  have  made  as  many  visits, 
and  seen  as  many  sights,  as  lay  within  Mrs.  Glass's  power  to 
compass.  But,  excepting  that  she  dined  abroad  with  one  or 
two  "  far-away  kinsfolk, "  and  that  she  paid  the  same  respect, 
on  Mrs.  Glass's  strong  urgency,  to  Mrs.  Deputy  Dabby,  wife 
of  the  Worshipful  Mr.  Deputy  Dabby,  of  Farringdon  Without, 
she  did  not  avail  herself  of  the  opportunity.  As  Mrs.  Dabby 
was  the  second  lady  of  great  rank  whom  Jeanie  had  seen  in 
London,  she  used  sometimes  afterwards  to  draw  a  parallel  be- 
twixt her  and  the  Queen,  in  which  she  observed,  that  "  Mrs. 
Dabby  was  dressed  twice  as  grand,  and  was  twice  as  big,  and 
spoke  twice  as  loud,  and  twice  as  muckle,  as  the  Queen  did, 
but  she  hadna  the  same  go ss -hawk  glance  that  makes  the  skin 
creep  and  the  knee  bend;  and  though  she  had  very  kindly 
gifted  her  with  a  loaf  of  sugar  and  twa  punds  of  tea,  yet  she 
hadna  a'thegither  the  sweet  look  that  the  Queen  had  when  she 
put  the  needle-book  into  her  hand." 

Jeanie  might  have  enjoyed  the  sights  and  novelties  of  this 
great  city  more,  had  it  not  been  for  the  qualification  added  to 
her  sister's  pardon,  which  greatly  grieved  her  affectionate  dis- 
position. On  this  subject,  however,  her  mind  was  somewhat 
relieved  by  a  letter  which  she  received  in  return  of  post,  in 
answer  to  that  which  she  had  written  to  her  father.  With 
his  affectionate  blessing,  it  brought  his  full  approbation  of  the 
step  which  she  had  taken,  as  one  inspired  by  the  immediate 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


457 


dictates  of  Heaven,  and  which  she  had  been  thrust  upon  in 
order  that  she  might  become  the  means  of  safety  to  a  perishing 
household. 

"  If  ever  a  deliverance  was  dear  and  precious,  this, "  said 
the  letter,  "is  a  dear  and  precious  deliverance;  and  if  life 
saved  can  be  made  more  sweet  and  savoury,  it  is  when  it  com- 
eth  by  the  hands  of  those  whom  we  hold  in  the  ties  of  affec- 
tion. And  do  not  let  your  heart  be  disquieted  within  you, 
that  this  victim,  who  is  rescued  from  the  horns  of  the  altar, 
whereuntil  she  was  fast  bound  by  the  chains  of  human  law,  is 
now  to  be  driven  beyond  the  bounds  of  our -land.  Scotland  is 
a  blessed  land  to  those  who  love  the  ordinances  of  Christianity, 
and  it  is  a  fair  land  to  look  upon,  and  dear  to  them  who  have 
dwelt  in  it  a'  their  days;  and  weel  said  that  judicious  Chris- 
tian, worthy  John  Livingstone,  a  sailor  in  Borrowstounness, 
as  the  famous  Patrick  Walker  reporteth  his  words,  that  how- 
beit  he  thought  Scotland  was  a  Gehennah  of  wickedness  when 
he  was  at  home,  yet,  when  he  was  abroad,  he  accounted  it  ane 
paradise ;  for  the  evils  of  Scotland  he  found  everywhere,  and 
the  good  of  Scotland  he  found  nowhere.  But  we  are  to  hold 
in  remembrance  that  Scotland,  though  it  be  our  native  land, 
and  the  land  of  our  fathers,  is  not  like  Goshen  in  Egypt,  on 
whilk  the  sun  of  the  heavens  and  of  the  Gospel  shineth  al- 
lenarly,  and  leaveth  the  rest  of  the  world  in  utter  darkness. 
Therefore,  and  also  because  this  increase  of  profit  at  St. 
Leonard's  Crags  may  be  a  cauld  waff  of  wind  blawing  from 
the  frozen  land  of  earthly  self,  where  never  plant  of  grace  took 
root  or  grew,  and  because  my  concerns  make  me  take  something 
ower  muckle  a  grip  of  the  gear  of  the  warld  in  mine  arms,  I 
receive  this  dispensation  anent  Effie  as  a  call  to  depart  out  of 
Haran,  as  righteous  Abraham  of  old,  and  leave  my  father's 
kindred  and  my  mother's  house,  and  the  ashes  and  mould  of 
them  who  have  gone  to  sleep  before  me,  and  which  wait  to  be 
mingled  with  these  auld  crazed  bones  of  mine  own.  And  my 
heart  is  lightened  to  do  this,  when  I  call  to  mind  the  decay 
of  active  and  earnest  religion  in  this  land,  and  survey  the 
height  and  the  depth,  the  length  and  the  breadth,  of  national 
defections,  and  how  the  love  of  many  is  waxing  lukewarm  and 


458 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


cold ;  and  I  am  strengthened  in  this  resolution  to  change  my 
domicile  likewise,  as  I  hear  that  store-farms  are  to  be  set  at 
an  easy  mail  in  Northumberland,  where  there  are  many  pre- 
cious souls  that  are  of  our  true  though  suffering  persuasion. 
And  sic  part  of  the  kye  or  stock  as  I  judge  it  fit  to  keep  may 
be  driven  thither  without  incommodity — say  about  Wooler,  or 
that  gate,  keeping  aye  a  shouther  to  the  hills — and  the  rest 
may  be  sauld  to  gude  profit  and  advantage,  if  we  had  grace 
weel  to  use  and  guide  these  gifts  of  the  warld.  The  Laird 
has  been  a  true  friend  on  our  unhappy  occasions,  and  I  have 
paid  him  back  the  siller  for  Effie's  misfortune,  whereof  Mr. 
Mchil  Novit  returned  him  no  balance,  as  the  Laird  and  I  did 
expect  he  wad  hae  done.  But  law  licks  up  a',  as  the  common 
folk  say.  I  have  had  the  siller  to  borrow  out  of  sax  purses. 
Mr.  Saddletree  advised  to  give  the  Laird  of  Lounsbeck  a 
charge  on  his  band  for  a  thousand  merks.  But  I  hae  nae 
broo?  of  charges,  since  that  awfu'  morning  that  a  tout  of  a 
horn  at  the  Cross  of  Edinburgh  blew  half  the  faithfu'  minis- 
ters of  Scotland  out  of  their  pulpits.  However,  I  sail  raise 
an  adjudication,  whilk  Mr.  Saddletree  says  comes  instead  of 
the  auld  apprisings,  and  will  not  lose  weel- won  gear  with  the 
like  of  him  if  it  may  be  helped.  As  for  the  Queen,  and  the 
credit  that  she  hath  done  to  a  poor  man's  daughter,  and  the 
mercy  and  the  grace  ye  found  with  her,  I  can  only  pray  for 
her  weel-being  here  and  hereafter,  for  the  establishment  of 
her  house  now  and  for  ever  upon  the  throne  of  these  kingdoms. 
I  doubt  not  but  what  you  told  her  Majesty  that  I  was  the  same 
David  Deans  of  whom  there  was  a  sport  at  the  Revolution, 
when  I  noited  thegither  the  heads  of  twa  false  prophets,  these 
ungracious  Graces  the  prelates,  as  they  stood  on  the  Hie 
Street,  after  being  expelled  from  the  Convention  Parliament. 1 
The  Duke  of  Argyle  is  a  noble  and  true-hearted  nobleman, 
who  pleads  the  cause  of  the  poor,  and  those  who  have  none  to 
help  them;  verily  his  reward  shall  not  be  lacking  unto  him. 
I  have  been  writing  of  many  things,  but  not  of  that  whilk  lies 
nearest  mine  heart.  I  have  seen  the  misguided  thing ;  she 
will  be  at  freedom  the  morn,  on  enacted  caution  that  she  shall 
1  See  Expulsion  of  the  Bishops  from  the  Scottish  Convention.    Note  31. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


459 


leave  Scotland  in  four  weeks.  Her  mind  is  in  an  evil  frame — 
casting  her  eye  backward  on  Egypt,  I  doubt,  as  if  the  bitter 
waters  of  the  wilderness  were  harder  to  endure  than  the  brick 
furnaces,  by  the  side  of  which  there  were  savoury  flesh-pots. 
I  need  not  bid  you  make  haste  down,  for  you  are,  excepting 
always  my  Great  Master,  my  only  comfort  in  these  straits. 
I  charge  you  to  withdraw  your  feet  from  the  delusion  of  that 
Vanity  Fair  in  whilk  ye  are  a  sojourner,  and  not  to  go  to  their 
worship,  whilk  is  an  ill-mumbled  mass,  as  it  was  weel  termed 
by  James  the  Sext,  though  he  afterwards,  with  his  unhappy 
son,  strove  to  bring  it  ower  back  and  belly  into  his  native 
kingdom,  wherethrough  their  race  have  been  cut  off  as  foam 
upon  the  water,  and  shall  be  as  wanderers  among  the  nations ; 
see  the  prophecies  of  Hosea,  ninth  and  seventeenth,  and  the 
same,  tenth  and  seventh.  But  us  and  our  house,  let  us  say 
with  the  same  prophet:  'Let  us  return  to  the  Lord;  for  he 
hath  torn  and  he  will  heal  us,  he  hath  smitten  and  he  will 
bind  us  up.'  " 

He  proceeded  to  say,  that  he  approved  of  her  proposed  mode 
of  returning  by  Glasgow,  and  entered  into  sundry  minute  par- 
ticulars not  necessary  to  be  quoted.  A  single  line  in  the  letter, 
but  not  the  least  frequently  read  by  the  party  to  whom  it  was 
addressed,  intimated  that  "  Keuben  Butler  had  been  as  a  son 
to  him  in  his  sorrows."  As  David  Deans  scarce  ever  men- 
tioned Butler  before  without  some  gibe,  more  or  less  direct, 
either  at  his  carnal  gifts  and  learning  or  at  his  grandfather's 
heresy,  Jeanie  drew  a  good  omen  from  no  such  qualifying 
clause  being  added  to  this  sentence  respecting  him. 

A  lover's  hope  resembles  the  bean  in  the  nursery  tale:  let 
it  once  take  root,  and  it  will  grow  so  rapidly  that  in  the  course 
of  a  few  hours  the  giant  Imagination  builds  a  castle  on  the 
top,  and  by  and  by  comes  Disappointment  with  the  "  curtal 
axe,"  and  hews  down  both  the  plant  and  the  superstructure. 
Jeanie ?s  fancy,  though  not  the  most  powerful  of  her  faculties, 
was  lively  enough  to  transport  her  to  a  wild  farm  in  North- 
umberland, well  stocked  with  milk-cows,  yeald  beasts,  and 
sheep ;  a  meeting-house  hard  by,  frequented  by  serious  Pres- 
byterians, who  had  united  in  a  harmonious  call  to  Reuben 


460 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Butler  to  be  their  spiritual  guide;  Effie  restored,  not  to 
gaiety,  but  to  cheerfulness  at  least;  their  father,  with  his 
grey  hairs  smoothed  down,  and  spectacles  on  his  nose ;  her- 
self, with  the  maiden  snood  exchanged  for  a  matron's  curch — 
all  arranged  in  a  pew  in  the  said  meeting-house,  listening  to 
words  of  devotion,  rendered  sweeter  and  more  powerful  by 
the  affectionate  ties  which  combined  them  with  the  preacher. 
She  cherished  such  visions  from  day  to  day,  until  her  residence 
in  London  began  to  become  insupportable  and  tedious  to  her; 
and  it  was  with  no  ordinary  satisfaction  that  she  received  a 
summons  from  Argyle  House,  requiring  her  in  two  days  to  be 
prepared  to  join  their  northward  party. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

One  was  a  female,  who  had  grievous  ill 
Wrought  in  revenge,  and  she  enjoy'd  it  still ; 
Sullen  she  was,  and  threatening  ;  in  her  eye 
Glared  the  stern  triumph  that  she  dared  to  die. 

Crabbe. 

The  summons  of  preparation  arrived  after  Jeanie  Deans  had 
resided  in  the  metropolis  about  three  weeks. 

On  the  morning  appointed  she  took  a  grateful  farewell  of 
Mrs.  Glass,  as  that  good  woman's  attention  to  her  particularly 
required,  placed  herself  and  her  movable  goods,  which  pur- 
chases and  presents  had  greatly  increased,  in  a  hackney- 
coach,  and  joined  her  travelling  companions  in  the  housekeep- 
er's apartment  at  Argyle  House.  While  the  carriage  was 
getting  ready,  she  was  informed  that  the  Duke  wished  to  speak 
with  her ;  and  being  ushered  into  a  splendid  saloon,  she  was 
surprised  to  find  that  he  wished  to  present  her  to  his  lady  and 
daughters. 

"  I  bring  you  my  little  countrywoman,  Duchess, "  these  were 
the  words  of  the  introduction.  "  With  an  army  of  young  fel- 
lows as  gallant  and  steady  as  she  is,  and  a  good  cause,  I  would 
not  fear  two  to  one." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  461 


"Ah,  papa!"  said  a  lively  young  lady,  about  twelve  years 
old,  "  remember  you  were  full  one  to  two  at  Sheriffmuir,  and 
yet  (singing  the  well-known  ballad)  : 

Some  say  that  we  wan,  and  some  say  that  they  wan, 
And  some  say  that  nane  wan  at  a1 ,  man  ; 

But  of  ae  thing  I'm  sure,  that  on  Sheriffmuir 
A  battle  there  was  that  I  saw,  man." 

"What,  little  Mary  turned  Tory  on  my  hands?  This 
will  be  fine  news  for  our  countrywoman  to  carry  down  to  Scot- 
land!" 

"  We  may  all  turn  Tories  for  the  thanks  we  have  got  for 
remaining  Whigs, "  said  the  second  young  lady. 

"  Well,  hold  your  peace,  you  discontented  monkeys,  and  go 
dress  your  babies ;  and  as  for  the  Bob  of  Dumblane : 

If  it  wasna  weel  bobbit,  weel  bobbit,  weel  bobbit, 
If  it  wasna  weel  bobbit,  we'll  bobb  it  again." 

"Papa's  wit  is  running  low,"  said  Lady  Mary,  "the  poor 
gentleman  is  repeating  himself ;  he  sang  that  on  the  field  of 
battle,  when  he  was  told  the  Highlanders  had  cut  his  left 
wing  to  pieces  with  their  claymores." 

A  pull  by  the  hair  was  the  repartee  to  this  sally. 

"Ah!  brave  Highlanders  and  bright  claymores,"  said  the 
Duke,  "well  do  I  wish  them,  'for  a'  the  ill  they've  done  me 
yet, '  as  the  song  goes.  But  come,  madcaps,  say  a  civil  word 
to  your  countrywoman.  I  wish  ye  had  half  her  canny  hamely 
sense ;  I  think  you  may  be  as  leal  and  true-hearted. " 

The  Duchess  advanced,  and,  in  few  words,  in  which  there 
was  as  much  kindness  as  civility,  assured  Jeanie  of  the  re- 
spect which  she  had  for  a  character  so  affectionate,  and  yet  so 
firm,  and  added :  "  When  you  get  home,  you  will  perhaps  hear 
from  me." 

"And  from  me."  "And  from  me."  "And  from  me, 
Jeanie,"  added  the  young  ladies  one  after  the  other,  "for  you 
are  a  credit  to  the  land  we  love  so  well." 

Jeanie,  overpowered  with  these  unexpected  compliments,  and 
not  aware  that  the  Duke's  investigation  had  made  him  ac- 
quainted with  her  behaviour  on  her  sister's  trial,  could  only 


462 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


answer  by  blushing,  and  courtesying  round  and  round,  and 
uttering  at  intervals :  "Mony  thanks!  mony  thanks !" 

"Jeanie,"  said  the  Duke,  "you  must  have  dock  an*  dorroch 
or  you  will  be  unable  to  travel. " 

There  was  a  salver  with  cake  and  wine  on  the  table.  He 
took  up  a  glass,  drank  "to  all  true  hearts  that  lo'ed  Scotland, 
and  offered  a  glass  to  his  guest. 

Jeanie,  however,  declined  it,  saying,  "that  she  had  never 
tasted  wine  in  her  life. " 

"How  comes  that,  Jeanie?"  said  the  Duke;  "wine  maketh 
glad  the  heart,  you  know. " 

"  Ay,  sir,  but  my  father  is  like  J onadab  the  son  of  Rechab, 
who  charged  his  children  that  they  should  drink  no  wine." 

"  I  thought  your  father  would  have  had  more  sense, "  said 
the  Duke,  "  unless,  indeed,  he  prefers  brandy.    But,  however, 
Jeanie,  if  you  will  not  drink,  you  must  eat,  to  save  the  char 
acter  of  my  house." 

He  thrust  upon  her  a  large  piece  of  cake,  nor  would  he  per 
mit  her  to  break  off  a  fragment  and  lay  the  rest  on  the  salver 
"  Put  it  in  your  pouch,  Jeanie, "  said  he ;  "  you  will  be  glad 
of  it  before  you  see  St.  Giles's  steeple.    I  wish  to  Heaven 
were  to  see  it  as  soon  as  you !  and  so  my  best  service  to  all 
my  friends  at  and  about  Auld  Reekie,  and  a  blythe  journey 
to  you. " 

And,  mixing  the  frankness  of  a  soldier  with  his  natural 
affability,  he  shook  hands  with  his  protegee,  and  committed 
her  to  the  charge  of  Archibald,  satisfied  that  he  had  provided 
sufficiently  for  her  being  attended  to  by  his  domestics,  from 
the  unusual  attention  with  which  he  had  himself  treated  her 

Accordingly,  in  the  course  of  her  journey,  she  found  both 
her  companions  disposed  to  pay  her  every  possible  civility, 
so  that  her  return,  in  point  of  comfort  and  safety,  formed  a 
strong  contrast  to  her  journey  to  London. 

Her  heart  also  was  disburdened  of  the  weight  of  grief, 
shame,  apprehension,  and  fear  which  had  loaded  her  before 
her  interview  with  the  Queen  at  Richmond.    But  the  human 
mind  is  so  strangely  capricious  that,  when  freed  from  the  pres 
sure  of  real  misery,  it  becomes  open  and  sensitive  to  the  ap 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


463 


prehension  of  ideal  calamities.  She  was  now  much  disturbed 
in  mind  that  she  had  heard  nothing  from  Eeuben  Butler,  to 
whom  the  operation  of  writing  was  so  much  more  familiar 
than  it  was  to  herself. 

"  It  would  have  cost  him  sae  little  fash,"  she  said  to  herself; 
"for  I  hae  seen  his  pen  gang  as  fast  ower  the  paper  as  ever 
it  did  ower  the  water  when  it  was  in  the  grey  goose's  wing. 
Wae's  me!  maybe  he  may  be  badly;  but  then  my  father  wad 
likely  hae  said  something  about  it.  Or  maybe  he  may  hae 
taen  the  rue,  and  kensna  how  to  let  me  wot  of  his  change  of 
mind.  He  needna  be  at  muckle  fash  about  it," — she  went  on, 
drawing  herself  up,  though  the  tear  of  honest  pride  and  injured 
affection  gathered  in  her  eye,  as  she  entertained  the  suspicion ; 
"  Jeanie  Deans  is  no  the  lass  to  pu?  him  by  the  sleeve,  or  put 
him  in  mind  of  what  he  wishes  to  forget.  I  shall  wish  him 
weel  and  happy  a'  the  same ;  and  if  he  has  the  luck  to  get  a 
kirk  in  our  country,  I  sail  gang  and  hear  him  just  the  very 
same,  to  show  that  I  bear  nae  malice."  And  as  she  imagined 
the  scene,  the  tear  stole  over  her  eye. 

In  these  melancholy  reveries  Jeanie  had  full  time  to  in- 
dulge herself;  for  her  travelling  companions,  servants  in  a 
distinguished  and  fashionable  family,  had,  of  course,  many 
topics  of  conversation  in  which  it  was  absolutely  impossible 
she  could  have  either  pleasure  or  portion.  She  had,  therefore, 
abundant  leisure  for  reflection,  and  even  for  self -tormenting, 
during  the  several  days  which,  indulging  the  young  horses  the 
Duke  was  sending  down  to  the  North  with  sufficient  ease  and 
short  stages,  they  occupied  in  reaching  the  neighbourhood  of 
Carlisle. 

In  approaching  the  vicinity  of  that  ancient  city,  they  dis- 
cerned a  considerable  crowd  upon  an  eminence  at  a  little  dis- 
tance from  the  highroad,  and  learned  from  some  passengers 
who  were  gathering  towards  that  busy  scene  from  the  south- 
ward, that  the  cause  of  the  concourse  was  the  laudable  public 
desire  "  to  see  a  domned  Scotch  witch  and  thief  get  half  of  her 
dueupo'  HaribeeBroo'  yonder:  for  she  was  only  to  be  hanged; 
she  should  hae  been  boomed  aloive,  an'  cheap  on't." 

"  Dear  Mr.  Archibald, "  said  the  dame  of  the  dairy  elect,  "  I 


464 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


never  seed  a  woman  hanged  in  a?  my  life,  and  only  four  men, 
as  made  a  goodly  spectacle." 

Mr.  Archibald,  however,  was  a  Scotchman,  and  promised 
himself  no  exuberant  pleasure  in  seeing  his  countrywoman  un- 
dergo the  terrible  behests  of  law."  Moreover,  he  was  a  man 
of  sense  and  delicacy  in  his  way,  and  the  late  circumstances 
of  Jeanie's  family,  with  the  cause  of  her  expedition  to  London, 
were  not  unknown  to  him ;  so  that  he  answered  drily,  it  was 
impossible  to  stop,  as  he  must  be  early  at  Carlisle  on  some 
business  of  the  Duke's,  and  he  accordingly  bid  the  postilions 
get  on. 

The  road  at  that  time  passed  at  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile's 
distance  from  the  eminence  called  Haribee  or  Harabee  Brow, 
which,  though  it  is  very  moderate  in  size  and  height,  is  never- 
theless seen  from  a  great  distance  around,  owing  to  the  flatness 
of  the  country  through  which  the  Eden  flows.  Here  many  an 
outlaw  and  border-rider  of  both  kingdoms  had  wavered  in  the 
wind  during  the  wars,  and  scarce  less  hostile  truces,  between 
the  two  countries.  Upon  Harabee,  in  latter  days,  other  exe- 
cutions had  taken  place  with  as  little  ceremony  as  compassion; 
for  these  frontier  provinces  remained  long  unsettled,  and,  even 
at  the  time  of  which  we  write,  were  ruder  than  those  in  the 
centre  of  England. 

The  postilions  drove  on,  wheeling,  as  the  Penrith  road  led 
them,  round  the  verge  of  the  rising  ground.  Yet  still  the 
eyes  of  Mrs.  Dolly  Dutton,  which,  with  the  head  and  substan- 
tial person  to  which  they  belonged,  were  all  turned  towards 
the  scene  of  action,  could  discern  plainly  the  outline  of  the 
gallows-tree,  relieved  against  the  clear  sky,  the  dark  shade 
formed  by  the  persons  of  the  executioner  and  the  criminal 
upon  the  light  rounds  of  the  tall  aerial  ladder,  until  one  of 
the  objects,  launched  into  the  air,  gave  unequivocal  signs  of 
mortal  agony,  though  appearing  in  the  distance  not  larger 
than  a  spider  dependent  at  the  extremity  of  his  invisible 
thread,  while  the  remaining  form  descended  from  its  elevated 
situation,  and  regained  with  all  speed  an  undistinguished  place 
among  the  crowd.  This  termination  of  the  tragic  scene 
drew  forth  of  course  a  squall  from  Mrs.  Dutton,  and  Jeanie, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


465 


with  instinctive  curiosity,  turned  her  head  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. 

The  sight  of  a  female  culprit  in  the  act  of  undergoing  the 
fatal  punishment  from  which  her  beloved  sister  had  been  so 
recently  rescued,  was  too  much,  not  perhaps  for  her  nerves, 
but  for  her  mind  and  feelings.  She  turned  her  head  to 
the  other  side  of  the  carriage,  with  a  sensation  of  sickness, 
of  loathing,  and  of  fainting.  Her  female  companion  over- 
whelmed her  with  questions,  with  proffers  of  assistance,  with 
requests  that  the  carriage  might  be  stopped,  that  a  doctor 
might  be  fetched,  that  drops  might  be  gotten,  that  burnt 
feathers  and  assafcetida,  fair  water,  and  hartshorn  might  be 
procured,  all  at  once,  and  without  one  instant's  delay.  Archi- 
bald, more  calm  and  considerate,  only  desired  the  carriage  to 
push  forward ;  and  it  was  not  till  they  had  got  beyond  sight 
of  the  fatal  spectacle  that,  seeing  the  deadly  paleness  of 
Jeanie's  countenance,  he  stopped  the  carriage,  and  jumping 
out  himself,  went  in  search  of  the  most  obvious  and  most 
easily  procured  of  Mrs.  Dutton's  pharmacopoeia — a  draught, 
namely,  of  fair  water. 

While  Archibald  was  absent  on  this  good-natured  piece  of 
service,  damning  the  ditches  which  produced  nothing  but  mud, 
and  thinking  upon  the  thousand  bubbling  springlets  of  his  own 
mountains,  the  attendants  on  the  execution  began  to  pass  the 
stationary  vehicle  in  their  way  back  to  Carlisle. 

From  their  half -heard  and  half -understood  words,  Jeanie, 
whose  attention  was  involuntarily  riveted  by  them,  as  that  of 
children  is  by  ghost  stories,  though  they  know  the  pain  with 
which  they  will  afterwards  remember  them— Jeanie,  I  say, 
could  discern  that  the  present  victim  of  the  law  had  died 
"  game, "  as  it  is  termed  by  those  unfortunates ;  that  is,  sullen, 
reckless,  and  impenitent,  neither  fearing  God  nor  regarding 
man. 

"A  sture  woife,  and  a  dour,"  said  one  Cumbrian  peasant, 
as  he  clattered  by  in  his  wooden  brogues,  with  a  noise  like  the 
trampling  of  a  dray-horse. 

"  She  has  gone  to  ho  master,  with  ho's  name  in  her  mouth," 
said  another.  "  Shame  the  country  should  be  harried  wi' 
30 


466 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Scotch  witches  and  Scotch  bitches  this  gate ;  but  I  say  hang 
and  drown. " 

"Ay,  ay,  Gaffer  Tramp,  take  awa  yealdon,  take  awalow; 
hang  the  witch,  and  there  will  be  less  scathe  amang  us ;  mine 
owsen  hae  been  reckan  this  towmont." 

"  And  mine  bairns  hae  been  crining  too,  mon, "  replied  his 
neighbour. 

"  Silence  wi'  your  f ule  tongues,  ye  churls, "  said  an  old 
woman  who  hobbled  past  them  as  they  stood  talking  near  the 
carriage ;  "  this  was  nae  witch,  but  a  bluidy-fingered  thief  and 
murderess." 

"Ay?  was  it  e'en  sae,  Dame  Hinchup?"  said  one  in  a  civil 
tone,  and  stepping  out  of  his  place  to  let  the  old  woman  pass 
along  the  footpath.  "  Nay,  you  know  best,  sure ;  but  at  ony 
rate  we  hae  but  tint  a  Scot  of  her,  and  that's  a  thing  better 
lost  than  found." 

The  old  woman  passed  on  without  making  any  answer. 

"Ay,  ay,  neighbour,"  said  Gaffer  Tramp,  "seest  thou  how 
one  witch  will  speak  for  t'other — Scots  or  English,  the  same 
to  them." 

His  companion  shook  his  head,  and  replied  in  the  same 
subdued  tone :  "  Ay,  ay,  when  a  Sark-foot  wife  gets  on  her 
broom-stick,  the  dames  of  Allonby  are  ready  to  mount,  just  as 
sure  as  the  bye-word  gangs  o'  the  hills: 

If  Skiddaw  hath  a  cap, 
Criffel  wots  full  weel  of  that." 

"  But, "  continued  Gaffer  Tramp,  "  thinkest  thou  the  daugh- 
ter o'  yon  hangit  body  isna  as  rank  a  witch  as  ho?" 

"I  kenna  clearly,"  returned  the  fellow,  "but  the  folk  are 
speaking  o'  swimming  her  i'  the  Eden."  And  they  passed 
on  their  several  roads,  after  wishing  each  other  good  morn- 
ing. 

Just  as  the  clowns  left  the  place,  and  as  Mr.  Archibald  re- 
turned with  some  fair  water,  a  crowd  of  boys  and  girls,  and 
some  of  the  lower  rabble  of  more  mature  age,  came  up  from 
the  place  of  execution,  grouping  themselves  with  many  a  yell 
of  delight  around  a  tall  female  fantastically  dressed,  who  was 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


467 


dancing,  leaping,  and  bounding  in  the  midst  of  them.  A  hor- 
rible recollection  pressed  on  Jeanie  as  she  looked  on  this  un- 
fortunate creature ;  and  the  reminiscence  was  mutual,  for,  by  a 
sudden  exertion  of  great  strength  and  agility,  Madge  Wildfire 
broke  out  of  the  noisy  circle  of  tormentors  who  surrounded 
her,  and  clinging  fast  to  the  door  of  the  calash,  uttered,  in  a 
sound  betwixt  laughter  and  screaming :  "  Eh,  d'ye  ken,  Jeanie 
Deans,  they  hae  hangit  our  mother?"  Then  suddenly  chang- 
ing her  tone  to  that  of  the  most  piteous  entreaty,  she  added : 
"  Oh  gar  them  let  me  gang  to  cut  her  down! — let  me  but  cut 
her  down !  She  is  my  mother,  if  she  was  waur  than  the  deil, 
and  she'll  be  nae  mair  kenspeckle  than  half -hangit  Maggie 
Dickson, 1  that  cried  saut  mony  a  day  after  she  had  been  hang- 
it ;  her  voice  was  roupit  and  hoarse,  and  her  neck  was  a  wee 
agee,  or  ye  wad  hae  kenn'd  nae  odds  on  her  frae  ony  other 
saut-wife." 

Mr.  Archibald,  embarrassed  by  the  madwoman's  clinging  to 
the  carriage,  and  detaining  around  them  her  noisy  and  mis- 
chievous attendants,  was  all  this  while  looking  out  for  a  con- 
stable or  beadle  to  whom  he  might  commit  the  unfortunate 
creature.  But  seeing  no  such  person  of  authority,  he  endeav- 
oured to  loosen  her  hold  from  the  carriage,  that  they  might 
escape  from  her  by  driving  on.  This,  however,  could  hardly 
be  achieved  without  some  degree  of  violence ;  Madge  held  fast, 
and  renewed  her  frantic  entreaties  to  be  permitted  to  cut  down 
her  mother.  "It  was  but  a  tenpenny  tow  lost,"  she  said, 
"and  what  was  that  to  a  woman's  life?"  There  came  up, 
however,  a  parcel  of  savage-looking  fellows,  butchers  and 
graziers  chiefly,  among  whose  cattle  there  had  been  of  late  a 
very  general  and  fatal  distemper,  which  their  wisdom  imputed 
to  witchcraft.  They  laid  violent  hands  on  Madge,  and  tore 
her  from  the  carriage,  exclaiming :  "  What,  doest  stop  folk 
o'  king's  highway?  Hast  no  done  mischief  enow  already,  wi' 
thy  murders  and  thy  witcherings?" 

"  Oh,  Jeanie  Deans — Jeanie  Deans !"  exclaimed  the  poor 
maniac,  "  save  my  mother,  and  I  will  take  ye  to  the  Interpre- 
ter's house  again ;  and  I  will  teach  ye  a'  my  bonny  sangs;  and 
1  See  Note  32. 


468 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


I  will  tell  ye  what  came  o'  the  "    The  rest  of  her  entreaties 

were  drowned  in  the  shouts  of  the  rabble. 

"Save  her,  for  God's  sake! — save  her  from  those  people!" 
exclaimed  Jeanie  to  Archibald. 

"She  is  mad,  but  quite  innocent — she  is  mad,  gentlemen," 
said  Archibald ;  "  do  not  use  her  ill,  take  her  before  the 
mayor. " 

"Ay,  ay,  we'se  hae  care  enow  on  her,"  answered  one  of  the 
fellows;  "gang  thou  thy  gate,  man,  and  mind  thine  own 
matters." 

"He's  a  Scot  by  his  tongue,"  said  another;  "and  an  he 
will  come  out  o'  his  whirligig  there,  I'se  gie  him  his  tartan 
plaid  fu'  o'  broken  banes." 

It  was  clear  nothing  could  be  done  to  rescue  Madge ;  and 
Archibald,  who  was  a  man  of  humanity,  could  only  bid  the 
postilions  hurry  on  to  Carlisle,  that  he  might  obtain  some  as- 
sistance to  the  unfortunate  woman.  As  they  drove  off,  they 
heard  the  hoarse  roar  with  which  the  mob  preface  acts  of  riot 
or  cruelty,  yet  even  above  that  deep  and  dire  note  they  could 
discern  the  screams  of  the  unfortunate  victim.  They  were 
soon  out  of  hearing  of  the  cries,  but  had  no  sooner  entered  the 
streets  of  Carlisle  than  Archibald,  at  Jeanie' s  earnest  and 
urgent  entreaty,  went  to  a  magistrate,  to  state  the  cruelty 
which  was  likely  to  be  exercised  on  this  unhappy  creature. 

In  about  an  hour  and  a  half  he  returned,  and  reported  to 
Jeanie  that  the  magistrate  had  very  readily  gone  in  person, 
with  some  assistants,  to  the  rescue  of  the  unfortunate  woman, 
and  that  he  had  himself  accompanied  him;  that  when  they 
came  to  the  muddy  pool  in  which  the  mob  were  ducking 
her,  according  to  their  favourite  mode  of  punishment,  the 
magistrate  succeeded  in  rescuing  her  from  their  hands,  but 
in  a  state  of  insensibility,  owing  to  the  cruel  treatment  which 
she  had  received.  He  added,  that  he  had  seen  her  carried  to 
the  workhouse,  and  understood  that  she  had  been  brought  to 
herself,  and  was  expected  to  do  well. 

This  last  averment  was  a  slight  alteration  in  point  of  fact, 
for  Madge  Wildfire  was  not  expected  to  survive  the  treatment 
she  had  received ;  but  Jeanie  seemed  so  much  agitated  that 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


469 


Mr.  Archibald  did  not  think  it  prudent  to  tell  her  the  worst 
at  once.  Indeed,  she  appeared  so  fluttered  and  disordered  by 
this  alarming  accident  that,  although  it  had  been  their  inten- 
tion to  proceed  to  Longtown  that  evening,  her  companions 
judged  it  most  advisable  to  pass  the  night  at  Carlisle. 

This  was  particularly  agreeable  to  Jeanie,  who  resolved,  if 
possible,  to  procure  an  interview  with  Madge  Wildfire.  Con- 
necting some  of  her  wild  flights  with  the  narrative  of  George 
Staunton,  she  was  unwilling  to  omit  the  opportunity  of  ex- 
tracting from  her,  if  possible,  some  information  concerning 
the  fate  of  that  unfortunate  infant  which  had  cost  her  sister 
so  dear.  Her  acquaintance  with  the  disordered  state  of  poor 
Madge's  mind  did  not  permit  her  to  cherish  much  hope  that 
she  could  acquire  from  her  any  useful  intelligence;  but  then, 
since  Madge's  mother  had  suffered  her  deserts,  and  was  silent 
for  ever,  it  was  her  only  chance  of  obtaining  any  kind  of  in- 
formation, and  she  was  loth  to  lose  the  opportunity. 

She  coloured  her  wish  to  Mr.  Archibald  by  saying  that  she 
had  seen  Madge  formerly,  and  wished  to  know,  as  a  matter  of 
humanity,  how  she  was  attended  to  under  her  present  misfor- 
tunes. That  complaisant  person  immediately  went  to  the 
workhouse,  or  hospital,  in  which  he  had  seen  the  sufferer 
lodged,  and  brought  back  for  reply,  that  the  medical  attend- 
ants positively  forbade  her  seeing  any  one.  When  the  appli- 
cation for  admittance  was  repeated  next  day,  Mr.  Archibald 
was  informed  that  she  had  been  very  quiet  and  composed,  in- 
somuch that  the  clergyman,  who  acted  as  chaplain  to  the  es- 
tablishment, thought  it  expedient  to  read  prayers  beside  her 
bed,  but  that  her  wandering  fit  of  mind  had  returned  soon 
after  his  departure;  however,  her  countrywoman  might  see 
her  if  she  chose  it.  She  was  not  expected  to  live  above  an 
hour  or  two. 

Jeanie  had  no  sooner  received  this  information  than  she 
hastened  to  the  hospital,  her  companions  attending  her.  They 
found  the  dying  person  in  a  large  ward,  where  there  were  ten 
beds,  of  which  the  patient's  was  the  only  one  occupied. 

Madge  was  singing  when  they  entered — singing  her  own  wild 
snatches  of  songs  and  obsolete  airs,  with  a  voice  no  longer 


470 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


overstrained  by  false  spirits,  but  softened,  saddened,  and  sub- 
dued by  bodily  exhaustion.  She  was  still  insane,  but  was  no 
longer  able  to  express  her  wandering  ideas  in  the  wild  notes  of 
her  former  state  of  exalted  imagination.  There  was  death  in 
the  plaintive  tones  of  her  voice,  which  yet,  in  this  moderated 
and  melancholy  mood,  had  something  of  the  lulling  sound  with 
which  a  mother  sings  her  infant  asleep.  As  Jeanie  entered, 
she  heard  first  the  air,  and  then  a  part  of  the  chorus  and  words, 
of  what  had  been,  perhaps,  the  song  of  a  jolly  harvest -h ome : 

"  Our  work  is  over — over  now, 
The  good  man  wipes  his  weary  brow, 
The  last  long  wain  wends  slow  away, 
And  we  are  free  to  sport  and  play. 

The  night  comes  on  when  sets  the  sun, 
And  labour  ends  when  day  is  done. 
When  Autumn's  gone  and  Winter's  come, 
We  hold  our  jovial  harvest-home." 

Jeanie  advanced  to  the  bedside  when  the  strain  was  finished, 
and  addressed  Madge  by  her  name.  But  it  produced  no  symp- 
toms of  recollection.  On  the  contrary,  the  patient,  like  one 
provoked  by  interruption,  changed  her  posture,  and  called  out, 
with  an  impatient  tone :  "  Nurse — nurse,  turn  my  face  to  the 
wa',  that  I  may  never  answer  to  that  name  ony  mair,  and 
never  see  mair  of  a  wicked  world. " 

The  attendant  on  the  hospital  arranged  her  in  her  bed  as  she 
desired,  with  her  face  to  the  wall  and  her  back  to  the  light. 
So  soon  as  she  was  quiet  in  this  new  position,  she  began  again 
to  sing  in  the  same  low  and  modulated  strains,  as  if  she  wa 
recovering  the  state  of  abstraction  which  the  interruption  o 
her  visitants  had  disturbed.    The  strain,  however,  was  differ 
ent,  and  rather  resembled  the  music  of  the  Methodist  hymns, 
though  the  measure  of  the  song  was  similar  to  that  of  th 
former : 

"  When  the  fight  of  grace  is  fought, 
When  the  marriage  vest  is  wrought, 
When  Faith  hath  chased  cold  Doubt  away, 
And  Hope  but  sickens  at  delay, 
When  Charity,  imprisoned  here, 
Longs  for  a  more  expanded  sphere, 
DofF  thy  robes  of  sin  and  clay, 
Christian,  rise,  and  come  away," 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  471 

The  strain  was  solemn  and  affecting,  sustained  as  it  was  by 
the  pathetic  warble  of  a  voice  which  had  naturally  been  a  tine 
one,  and  which  weakness,  if  it  diminished  its  power,  had  im- 
proved in  softness.  Archibald,  though  a  follower  of  the  court, 
and  a  pococurante  by  profession,  was  confused,  if  not  affect- 
ed ;  the  dairymaid  blubbered ;  and  Jeanie  felt  the  tears  rise 
spontaneously  to  her  eyes.  Even  the  nurse,  accustomed  to 
all  modes  in  which  the  spirit  can  pass,  seemed  considerably 
moved. 

The  patient  was  evidently  growing  weaker,  as  was  inti- 
mated by  an  apparent  difficulty  of  breathing  which  seized  her 
from  time  to  time,  and  by  the  utterance  of  low  listless  moans, 
intimating  that  nature  was  succumbing  in  the  last  conflict.  But 
the  spirit  of  melody,  which  must  originally  have  so  strongly 
possessed  this  unfortunate  young  woman,  seemed,  at  every  in- 
terval of  ease,  to  triumph  over  her  pain  and  weakness.  And  it 
was  remarkable  that  there  could  always  be  traced  in  her  songs 
something  appropriate,  though  perhaps  only  obliquely  or  col- 
laterally so,  to  her  present  situation.  Her  next  seemed  to  be 
the  fragment  of  some  old  ballad : 

"  Cauld  is  my  bed,  Lord  Archibald, 
And  sad  my  sleep  of  sorrow  ; 
But  thine  sail  be  as  sad  and  cauld, 
My  fause  true-love,  to-morrow. 

And  weep  ye  not,  my  maidens  free, 
Though  death  your  mistress  borrow ; 

For  he  for  whom  I  die  to-day, 
Shall  die  for  me  to-morrow." 

Again  she  changed  the  tune  to  one  wilder,  less  monotonous, 
and  less  regular.  But  of  the  words  only  a  fragment  or  two 
could  be  collected  by  those  who  listened  to  this  singular  seen  3 : 

"  Proud  Maisie  is  in  the  wood, 
Walking  so  early. 
Sweet  Robin  sits  on  the  bush, 
Singing  so  rarely. 

1  Tell  me,  thou  bonny  bird, 

When  shall  I  marry  me  ?  ' 
'  When  six  braw  gentlemen 

Kirk  ward  shall  carry  ye.' 


472 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


4  Who  makes  the  bridal  bed, 

Birdie,  say  truly  ?  ' 
4  The  grey-headed  sexton, 

That  delves  the  grave  duly.' 

The  glowworm  o'er  grave  and  stone 

Shall  light  thee  steady  ; 
The  owl  from  the  steeple  sing, 

4  Welcome,  proud  lady.'  " 

Her  voice  died  away  with  the  last  notes,  and  she  fell  into  a 
slumber,  from  which  the  experienced  attendant  assured  them 
that  she  never  would  awake  at  all,  or  only  in  the  death-agony. 

The  nurse's  prophecy  proved  true.  The  poor  maniac  parted 
with  existence  without  again  uttering  a  sound  of  any  kind. 
But  our  travellers  did  not  witness  this  catastrophe.  They  left 
the  hospital  as  soon  as  Jeanie  had  satisfied  herself  that  no 
elucidation  of  her  sister's  misfortunes  was  to  be  hoped  from 
the  dying  person. 1 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

Wilt  thou  go  on  with  me  ? 
The  moon  is  bright,  the  sea  is  calm, 
And  I  know  well  the  ocean  paths  .  .  . 

Thou  wilt  go  on  with  me  ! 

Thalaba. 

The  fatigue  and  agitation  of  these  various  scenes  had  agi- 
tated Jeanie  so  much,  notwithstanding  her  robust  strength  of 
constitution,  that  Archibald  judged  it  necessary  that  she  should 
have  a  day's  repose  at  the  village  of  Longtown.  It  was  in  vain 
that  Jeanie  herself  protested  against  any  delay.  The  Duke 
of  Argyle's  man  of  confidence  was  of  course  consequential; 
and  as  he  had  been  bred  to  the  medical  profession  in  his  youth 
— at  least  he  used  this  expression  to  describe  his  having,  thirty 
years  before,  pounded  for  six  months  in  the  mortar  of  old  Mun- 
go  Mangleman,  the  surgeon  at  Greenock — he  was  obstinate 
whenever  a  matter  of  health  was  in  question. 

In  this  case  he  discovered  febrile  symptoms,  and  having 
i  See  Madge  Wildfire.   Note  33, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


473 


once  made  a  happy  application  of  that  learned  phrase  to 
Jeanie's  case,  all  farther  resistance  became  in  vain;  and  she 
was  glad  to  acquiesce,  and  even  to  go  to  bed  and  drink  water- 
gruel,  in  order  that  she  might  possess  her  soul  in  quiet,  and 
without  interruption. 

Mr.  Archibald  was  equally  attentive  in  another  particular. 
He  observed  that  the  execution  of  the  old  woman,  and  the 
miserable  fate  of  her  daughter,  seemed  to  have  had  a  more 
powerful  effect  upon  Jeanie's  mind  than  the  usual  feelings  of 
humanity  might  naturally  have  been  expected  to  occasion. 
Yet  she  was  obviously  a  strong-minded,  sensible  young  wo- 
man, and  in  no  respect  subject  to  nervous  affections;  and 
therefore  Archibald,  being  ignorant  of  any  special  connexion 
between  his  master's  -protegee  and  these  unfortunate  persons, 
excepting  that  she  had  seen  Madge  formerly  in  Scotland, 
naturally  imputed  the  strong  impression  these  events  had 
made  upon  her  to  her  associating  them  with  the  unhappy  cir- 
cumstances in  which  her  sister  had  so  lately  stood.  He  be- 
came anxious,  therefore,  to  prevent  anything  occurring  which 
might  recall  these  associations  to  Jeanie's  mind. 

Archibald  had  speedily  an  opportunity  of  exercising  this 
precaution.  A  pedlar  brought  to  Longtown  that  evening, 
amongst  other  wares,  a  large  broadside  sheet,  giving  an  ac- 
count of  the  "Last  Speech  and  Execution  of  Margaret 
Murdockson,  and  of  the  Barbarous  Murder  of  her  Daughter, 
Magdalene  or  Madge  Murdockson,  called  Madge  Wildfire; 
and  of  her  Pious  Conversation  with  his  Reverence  Archdeacon 
Fleming" ;  which  authentic  publication  had  apparently  taken 
place  on  the  day  they  left  Carlisle,  and  being  an  article  of  a 
nature  peculiarly  acceptable  to  such  country-folk  as  were 
within  hearing  of  the  transaction,  the  itinerant  bibliopolist 
had  forthwith  added  them  to  his  stock  in  trade.  He  found 
a  merchant  sooner  than  he  expected;  for  Archibald,  much 
applauding  his  own  prudence,  purchased  the  whole  lot  for  two 
shillings  and  ninepence;  and  the  pedlar,  delighted  with  the 
profit  of  such  a  wholesale  transaction,  instantly  returned  to 
Carlisle  to  supply  himself  with  more. 

The  considerate  Mr.  Archibald  was  about  to  commit  his 


474 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


whole  purchase  to  the  flames,  but  it  was  rescued  by  the  yet 
more  considerate  dairy-damsel,  who  said,  very  prudently,  it 
was  a  pity  to  waste  so  much  paper,  which  might  crepe  hair, 
pin  up  bonnets,  and  serve  many  other  useful  purposes ;  and 
who  promised  to  put  the  parcel  into  her  own  trunk,  and  keep 
it  carefully  out  of  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Jeanie  Deans :  "  Though, 
by  the  by,  she  had  no  great  notion  of  folk  being  so  very  nice. 
Mrs.  Deans  might  have  had  enough  to  think  about  the  gallows 
all  this  time  to  endure  a  sight  of  it,  without  all  this  to  do 
about  it." 

Archibald  reminded  the  dame  of  the  dairy  of  the  Duke's 
very  particular  charge  that  they  should  be  attentive  and  civil 
to  J eanie ;  as  also  that  they  were  to  part  company  soon,  and 
consequently  would  not  be  doomed  to  observing  any  one's 
health  or  temper  during  the  rest  of  the  journey ;  with  which 
answer  Mrs.  Dolly  Dutton  was  obliged  to  hold  herself  satisfied. 

On  the  morning  they  resumed  their  journey,  and  prosecuted 
it  successfully,  travelling  through  Dumfriesshire  and  part  of 
Lanarkshire,  until  they  arrived  at  the  small  town  of  Kuther- 
glen,  within  about  four  miles  of  Glasgow.  Here  an  express 
brought  letters  to  Archibald  from  the  principal  agent  of  the 
Duke  of  Argyle  in  Edinburgh. 

He  said  nothing  of  their  contents  that  evening;  but  when 
they  were  seated  in  the  carriage  the  next  day,  the  faithful 
squire  informed  Jeanie  that  he  had  received  directions  from 
the  Duke's  factor,  to  whom  his  Grace  had  recommended  him 
to  carry  her,  if  she  had  no  objection,  for  a  stage  or  two  be- 
yond Glasgow.  Some  temporary  causes  of  discontent  had  oc- 
casioned tumults  in  that  city  and  the  neighbourhood,  which 
would  render  it  unadvisable  for  Mrs.  Jeanie  Deans  to  travel 
alone  and  unprotected  betwixt  that  city  and  Edinburgh; 
whereas,  by  going  forward  a  little  farther,  they  would  meet 
one  of  his  Grace's  sub-factors,  who  was  coming  down  from 
the  Highlands  to  Edinburgh  with  his  wife,  and  under  whose 
charge  she  might  journey  with  comfort  and  in  safety. 

Jeanie  remonstrated  against  this  arrangement.  ^  She  had 
been  lang, "  she  said,  "  f rae  hame :  her  father  and  her  sister 
behoved  to  be  very  anxious  to  see  her;  there  were  other 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


475 


friends  she  had  that  werena  weel  in  health.  She  was  willing 
to  pay  for  man  and  horse  at  Glasgow,  and  surely  naebody  wad 
meddle  wi'  sae  harmless  and  feckless  a  creature  as  she  was. 
She  was  muckle  obliged  by  the  offer;  but  never  hunted  deer 
langed  for  its  resting-place  as  I  do  to  find  myself  at  St.  Leon- 
ard's." 

The  groom  of  the  chambers  exchanged  a  look  with  his  fe- 
male companion,  which  seemed  so  full  of  meaning  that  Jeanie 
screamed  aloud:  "Oh,  Mr.  Archibald — Mrs.  Dutton,  if  ye 
ken  of  ony  thing  that  has  happened  at  St.  Leonard's,  for 
God's  sake — for  pity's  sake,  tell  me,  and  dinnakeep  me  in 
suspense!" 

"I  really  know  nothing,  Mrs.  Deans,"  said  the  groom  of 
the  chambers. 

"  And  I — I — I  am  sure  I  knows  as  little, "  said  the  dame  of 
the  dairy,  while  some  communication  seemed  to  tremble  on 
her  lips,  which,  at  a  glance  of  Archibald's  eye,  she  appeared 
to  swallow  down,  and  compressed  her  lips  thereafter  into  a 
state  of  extreme  and  vigilant  firmness,  as  if  she  had  been 
afraid  of  its  bolting  out  before  she  was  aware. 

Jeanie  saw  that  there  was  to  be  something  concealed  from 
her,  and  it  was  only  the  repeated  assurances  of  Archibald  that 
her  father — her  sister — all  her  friends  were,  as  far  as  he 
knew,  well  and  happy,  that  at  all  pacified  her  alarm.  From 
such  respectable  people  as  those  with  whom  she  travelled  she 
could  apprehend  no  harm,  and  yet  her  distress  was  so  obvious 
that  Archibald,  as  a  last  resource,  pulled  out  and  put  into  her 
hand  a  slip  of  paper,  on  which  these  words  were  written : 

\  "  Jeanie  Deans — You  will  do  me  a  favour  by  going  with 
Archibald  and  my  female  domestic  a  day's  journey  beyond 

J  Glasgow,  and  asking  them  no  questions,  which  will  greatly 
oblige  your  friend,  Argyle  &  Greenwich." 

Although  this  laconic  epistle,  from  a  nobleman  to  whom 
she  was  bound  by  such  inestimable  obligations,  silenced  all 
Jeanie' s  objections  to  the  proposed  route,  it  rather  added  to 
than  diminished  the  eagerness  of  her  curiosity.    The  pro- 


476 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ceeding  to  Glasgow  seemed  now  no  longer  to  be  an  object 
with  her  fellow-travellers.  On  the  contrary,  they  kept  the 
left-hand  side  of  the  river  Clyde,  and  travelled  through  a 
thousand  beautiful  and  changing  views  down  the  side  of  that 
noble  stream,  till,  ceasing  to  hold  its  inland  character,  it  be- 
gan to  assume  that  of  a  navigable  river. 

"  You  are  not  for  gaun  intill  Glasgow,  then?"  said  Jeanie, 
as  she  observed  that  the  drivers  made  no  motion  for  inclining 
their  horses'  heads  towards  the  ancient  bridge,  which  was  then 
the  only  mode  of  access  to  St.  Mungo's  capital. 

"No,"  replied  Archibald;  "there  is  some  popular  commo- 
tion, and  as  our  Duke  is  in  opposition  to  the  court,  perhaps 
we  might  be  too  well  received ;  or  they  might  take  it  in  their 
heads  to  remember  that  the  Captain  of  Carrick  came  down 
upon  them  with  his  Highlandmen  in  the  time  of  Shawfield's 
mob1  in  1725,  and  then  we  would  be  too  ill  received.  And, 
at  any  rate,  it  is  best  for  us,  and  for  me  in  particular,  who 
may  be  supposed  to  possess  his  Grace's  mind  upon  many  par- 
ticulars, to  leave  the  good  people  of  the  Gorbals  to  act  accord- 
ing to  their  own  imaginations,  without  either  provoking  or 
encouraging  them  by  my  presence." 

To  reasoning  of  such  tone  and  consequence  Jeanie  had  noth- 
ing to  reply,  although  it  seemed  to  her  to  contain  fully  as  much 
self-importance  as  truth. 

The  carriage  meantime  rolled  on ;  the  river  expanded  itself, 
and  gradually  assumed  the  dignity  of  an  estuary,  or  arm  of 
the  sea.  The  influence  of  the  advancing  and  retiring  tides 
became  more  and  more  evident,  and  in  the  beautiful  words  of 
him  of  the  laurel  wreath,  the  river  waxed 

A  broader  and  a  broader  stream. 

The  cormorant  stands  upon  its  shoals, 
His  black  and  dripping  wings 
Half  open'd  to  the  wind.2 

"Which  way  lies  Inverary?"  said  Jeanie,  gazing  on  the 
dusky  ocean  of  Highland  hills,  which  now,  piled  above  each 

1  See  Note  34. 

2  From  Southey's  Thaldba,  bk.  xi.  stanza  36  (Laing). 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


477 


other,  and  intersected  by  many  a  lake,  stretched  away  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river  to  the  northward.  "  Is  yon  high 
castle  the  Duke's  hoose?" 

"That,  Mrs.  Deans?  Lud  help  thee,"  replied  Archibald; 
"that's  the  old  Castle  of  Dunbarton,  the  strongest  place  in 
Europe,  be  the  other  what  it  may.  Sir  William  Wallace  was 
governor  of  it  in  the  old  wars  with  the  English,  and  his  Grace 
is  governor  just  now.  It  is  always  entrusted  to  the  best  man 
in  Scotland." 

"And  does  the  Duke  live  on  that  high  rock,  then?"  de- 
manded Jeanie. 

"  No,  no,  he  has  his  deputy-governor,  who  commands  in  his 
absence ;  he  lives  in  the  white  house  you  see  at  the  bottom  of 
the  rock.    His  Grace  does  not  reside  there  himself. " 

"  I  think  not,  indeed, "  said  the  dairy  woman,  upon  whose 
mind  the  road,  since  they  had  left  Dumfries,  had  made  no 
very  favourable  impression ;  "  for  if  he  did,  he  might  go 
whistle  for  a  dairywoman,  an  he  were  the  only  duke  in  Eng- 
land. I  did  not  leave  my  place  and  my  friends  to  come  down 
to  see  cows  starve  to  death  upon  hills  as  they  be  at  that  pig- 
stye  of  Elfinfoot,  as  you  call  it,  Mr.  Archibald,  or  to  be  perched 
up  on  the  top  of  a  rock,  like  a  squirrel  in  his  cage,  hung  out 
of  a  three  pair  of  stairs  window. " 

Inwardly  chuckling  that  these  symptoms  of  recalcitration 
had  not  taken  place  until  the  fair  malcontent  was,  as  he  men- 
tally termed  it,  under  his  thumb,  Archibald  coolly  replied: 
"  That  the  hills  were  none  of  his  making,  nor  did  he  know 
how  to  mend  them ;  but  as  to  lodging,  they  would  soon  be  in 
a  house  of  the  Duke's  in  a  very  pleasant  island  called  Eose- 
neath,  where  they  went  to  wait  for  shipping  to  take  them  to 
Inverary,  and  would  meet  the  company  with  whom  Jeanie  was 
to  return  to  Edinburgh." 

"An  island!"  said  Jeanie,  who,  in  the  course  of  her  various 
and  adventurous  travels,  had  never  quitted  terra  firma,  "  then 
I  am  doubting  we  maun  gang  in  ane  of  these  boats ;  they  look 
unco  sma',  and  the  waves  are  something  rough,  and  " 

"Mr.  Archibald,"  said  Mrs.  Dutton,  "I  will  not  consent  to 
it;  I  was  never  engaged  to  leave  the  country,  and  I  desire  you 


478 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


will  bid  the  boys  drive  round  the  other  way  to  the  Duke's 
house. " 

"  There  is  a  safe  pinnace  belonging  to  his  Grace,  ma'am, 
close  by, "  replied  Archibald,  "  and  you  need  be  under  no 
apprehensions  whatsoever. " 

"  But  I  am  under  apprehensions, "  said  the  damsel ;  "  and  I 
insist  upon  going  round  by  land,  Mr.  Archibald,  were  it  ten 
miles  about." 

"  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  oblige  you,  madam,  as  Eoseneath 
happens  to  be  an  island." 

"If  it  were  ten  islands,"  said  the  incensed  dame,  "that's  no 
reason  why  I  should  be  drowned  in  going  over  the  seas  to  it." 

"No  reason  why  you  should  be  drowned,  certainly,  ma'am," 
answered  the  unmoved  groom  of  the  chambers,  "  but  an  admir- 
able good  one  why  you  cannot  proceed  to  it  by  land. "  And, 
fixed  his  master's  mandates  to  perform,  he  pointed  with  his 
hand,  and  the  drivers,  turning  off  the  highroad,  proceeded 
towards  a  small  hamlet  of  fishing  huts,  where  a  shallop,  some- 
what more  gaily  decorated  than  any  which  they  had  yet  seen, 
having  a  flag  which  displayed  a  boar's  head,  crested  with  a 
ducal  coronet,  waited  with  two  or  three  seamen  and  as  many 
Highlanders. 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  the  men  began  to  unyoke  their 
horses,  while  Mr.  Archibald  gravely  superintended  the  re- 
moval of  the  baggage  from  the  carriage  to  the  little  vessel. 
"Has  the  'Caroline'  been  long  arrived?"  said  Archibald  to 
one  of  the  seamen. 

"  She  has  been  here  in  five  days  from  Liverpool,  and  she's 
lying  down  at  Greenock,"  answered  the  fellow. 

"  Let  the  horses  and  carriage  go  down  to  Greenock,  then, " 
said  Archibald,  "  and  be  embarked  there  for  Inverary  when 
I  send  notice :  they  may  stand  in  my  cousin's,  Duncan  Archi- 
bald the  stabler's.  Ladies,"  he  added,  "I  hope  you  will  get 
yourselves  ready,  we  must  not  lose  the  tide." 

"  Mrs.  Deans, "  said  the  Cowslip  of  Inverary,  "  you  may  do 
as  you  please,  but  I  will  sit  here  all  night,  rather  than  go  into 
that  there  painted  egg-shell.  Fellow — fellow !  (this  was  ad- 
dressed to  a  Highlander  who  was  lifting  a  travelling  trunk), 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


479 


that  trunk  is  mine,  and  that  there  band-box,  and  that  pillion 
mail,  and  those  seven  bundles,  and  the  paper  bag ;  and  if  you 
venture  to  touch  one  of  them,  it  shall  be  at  your  peril." 

The  Celt  kept  his  eye  fixed  on  the  speaker,  then  turned  his 
head  towards  Archibald,  and  receiving  no  countervailing  sig- 
nal, he  shouldered  the  portmanteau,  and  without  farther  notice 
of  the  distressed  damsel,  or  paying  any  attention  to  remon- 
strances, which  probably  he  did  not  understand,  and  would 
certainly  have  equally  disregarded  whether  he  understood 
them  or  not,  moved  off  with  Mrs.  Dutton's  wearables,  and 
deposited  the  trunk  containing  them  safely  in  the  boat. 

The  baggage  being  stowed  in  safety,  Mr.  Archibald  handed 
Jeanie  out  of  the  carriage,  and,  not  without  some  tremor  on 
her  part,  she  was  transported  through  the  surf  and  placed  in 
the  boat.  He  then  offered  the  same  civility  to  his  fellow-ser- 
vant, but  she  was  resolute  in  her  refusal  to  quit  the  carriage, 
in  which  she  now  remained  in  solitary  state,  threatening  all 
concerned  or  unconcerned  with  actions  for  wages  and  board- 
wages,  damages  and  expenses,  and  numbering  on  her  fingers 
the  gowns  and  other  habiliments  from  which  she  seemed  in 
the  act  of  being  separated  for  ever.  Mr.  Archibald  did  not 
give  himself  the  trouble  of  making  many  remonstrances, 
which,  indeed,  seemed  only  to  aggravate  the  damsel's  indig- 
nation, but  spoke  two  or  three  words  to  the  Highlanders  in 
Gaelic;  and  the  wily  mountaineers,  approaching  the  carriage 
cautiously,  and  without  giving  the  slightest  intimation  of  their 
intention,  at  once  seized  the  recusant  so  effectually  fast  that 
she  could  neither  resist  nor  struggle,  and  hoisting  her  on  their 
shoulders  in  nearly  an  horizontal  posture,  rushed  down  with 
her  to  the  beach,  and  through  the  surf,  and,  with  no  other 
inconvenience  than  ruffling  her  garments  a  little,  deposited 
her  in  the  boat ;  but  in  a  state  of  surprise,  mortification,  and 
terror  at  her  sudden  transportation  which  rendered  her  abso- 
lutely mute  for  two  or  three  minutes.  The  men  jumped  in 
themselves ;  one  tall  fellow  remained  till  he  had  pushed  off  the 
boat,  and  then  tumbled  in  upon  his  companions.  They  took 
their  oars  and  began  to  pull  from  the  shore,  then  spread  their 
sail  and  drove  merrily  across  the  firth. 


480 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  You  Scotch  villain!"  said  the  infuriated  damsel  to  Archi- 
bald, "how  dare  you  use  a  person  like  me  in  this  way?" 

"Madam/'  said  Archibald,  with  infinite  composure,  "it's 
high  time  you  should  know  you  are  in  the  Duke's  country, 
and  that  there  is  not  one  of  these  fellows  but  would  throw  you 
out  of  the  boat  as  readily  as  into  it,  if  such  were  his  Grace's 
pleasure." 

"Then  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  me!"  said  Mrs.  Dutton. 
"  If  I  had  had  any  on  myself  I  would  never  have  engaged 
with  you." 

"  It's  something  of  the  latest  to  think  of  that  now,  Mrs. 
Dutton, "  said  Archibald ;  "  but  I  assure  you,  you  will  find  the 
Highlands  have  their  pleasures.  You  will  have  a  dozen  of 
cow-milkers  under  your  own  authority  at  Inverary,  and  you 
may  throw  any  of  them  into  the  lake  if  you  have  a  mind,  for 
the  Duke's  head  people  are  almost  as  great  as  himself." 

"  This  is  a  strange  business,  to  be  sure,  Mr.  Archibald, "  said 
the  lady ;  "  but  I  suppose  I  must  make  the  best  on't.  Are  you 
sure  the  boat  will  not  sink?  it  leans  terribly  to  one  side,  in  my 
poor  mind." 

"  Fear  nothing, "  said  Mr.  Archibald,  taking  a  most  impor- 
tant pinch  of  snuff;  "  this  same  ferry  on  Clyde  knows  us  very 
well,  or  we  know  it,  which  is  all  the  same;  no  fear  of  any  of 
our  people  meeting  with  any  accident.  We  should  have 
crossed  from  the  opposite  shore,  but  for  the  disturbances  at 
Glasgow,  which  made  it  improper  for  his  Grace's  people  to 
pass  through  the  city." 

"Are  you  not  afeard,  Mrs.  Deans,"  said  the  dairy  vestal, 
addressing  Jeanie,  who  sat,  not  in  the  most  comfortable  state 
of  mind,  by  the  side  of  Archibald,  who  himself  managed  the 
helm — "  are  you  not  afeard  of  these  wild  men  with  their  naked 
knees,  and  of  this  nut-shell  of  a  thing,  that  seems  bobbing  up 
and  down  like  a  skimming-dish  in  a  milk-pail?" 

"No — no,  madam,"  answered  Jeanie,  with  some  hesitation, 
"  I  am  not  feared ;  for  I  hae  seen  Hielandmen  before,  though 
I  never  was  sae  near  them ;  and  for  the  danger  of  the  deep 
waters,  I  trust  there  is  a  Providence  by  sea  as  well  as  by 
land." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  481 


"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Dutton,  "it  is  a  beautiful  thing  to  have 
learned  to  write  and  read,  for  one  can  always  say  such  fine 
words  whatever  should  befall  them." 

Archibald,  rejoicing  in  the  impression  which  his*  vigorous 
measures  had  made  upon  the  intractable  dairymaid,  now  ap- 
plied himself,  as  a  sensible  and  good-natured  man,  to  secure 
by  fair  means  the  ascendency  which  he  had  obtained  by  some 
wholesome  violence ;  and  he  succeeded  so  well  in  representing 
to  her  the  idle  nature  of  her  fears,  and  the  impossibility  of 
leaving  her  upon  the  beach  enthroned  in  an  empty  carriage, 
that  the  good  understanding  of  the  party  was  completely  re- 
vived ere  they  landed  at  Roseneath. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 


Did  Fortune  guide, 
Or  rather  Destiny,  our  bark,  to  which 
We  could  appoint  no  port,  to  this  best  place  ? 

Fletcher. 

The  islands  in  the  Firth  of  Clyde,  which  the  daily  passage 
of  so  many  smoke-pennoned  steamboats  now  renders  so  easily 
accessible,  were  in  our  fathers'  times  secluded  spots,  frequented 
by  no  travellers,  and  few  visitants  of  any  kind.  They  are  of 
exquisite  yet  varied  beauty.  Arran,  a  mountainous  region, 
or  Alpine  island,  abounds  with  the  grandest  and  most  roman- 
tic scenery.  Bute  is  of  a  softer  and  more  woodland  character. 
The  Cumrays,  as  if  to  exhibit  a  contrast  to  both,  are 
green,  level,  and  bare,  forming  the  links  of  a  sort  of  natural 
bar,  which  is  drawn  along  the  mouth  of  the  firth,  leaving 
large  intervals,  however,  of  ocean.  Roseneath,  a  smaller  isle, 
lies  much  higher  up  the  firth,  and  towards  its  western  shore, 
near  the  opening  of  the  lake  called  the  Gare  Loch,  and  not  far 
from  Loch  Long  and  Loch  Seant,  or  the  Holy  Loch,  which 
wind  from  the  mountains  of  the  Western  Highlands  to  join 
the  estuary  of  the  Clyde. 

In  these  isles  the  severe  frost  winds  which  tyrannise  over 
31 


482 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  vegetable  creation  during  a  Scottish  spring  are  compara- 
tively little  felt ;  nor,  excepting  the  gigantic  strength  of  Ar- 
ran,  are  they  much  exposed  to  the  Atlantic  storms,  lying  land- 
locked and  protected  to  the  westward  by  the  shores  of  Ayrshire 
[Argyllshire] .  Accordingly,  the  weeping-willow,  the  weeping- 
birch,  and  other  trees  of  early  and  pendulous  shoots,  flourish 
in  these  favoured  recesses  in  a  degree  unknown  in  our  eastern 
districts ;  and  the  air  is  also  said  to  possess  that  mildness 
which  is  favourable  to  consumptive  cases. 

The  picturesque  beauty  of  the  island  of  Eoseneath,  in  par 
ticular,  had  such  recommendations  that  the  Earls  and  Dukes 
of  Argyle  from  an  early  period  made  it  their  occasional  resi 
dence,  and  had  their  temporary  accommodation  in  a  fishing 
or  hunting  lodge,  which  succeeding  improvements  have  since 
transformed  into  a  palace.  It  was  in  its  original  simplicity 
when  the  little  bark  which  we  left  traversing  the  firth  at  the 
end  of  last  chapter  approached  the  shores  of  the  isle. 

When  they  touched  the  landing-place,  which  was  partly 
shrouded  by  some  old  low  but  wide-spreading  oak-trees,  inter 
mixed  with  hazel-bushes,  two  or  three  figures  were  seen  as  if 
awaiting  their  arrival.  To  these  Jeanie  paid  little  attention, 
so  that  it  was  with  a  shock  of  surprise  almost  electrical  that, 
upon  being  carried  by  the  rowers  out  of  the  boat  to  the  shore 
she  was  received  in  the  arms  of  her  father ! 

It  was  too  wonderful  to  be  believed — too  much  like  a  happy 
dream  to  have  the  stable  feeling  of  reality.    She  extricated 
herself  from  his  close  and  affectionate  embrace,  and  held  him 
at  arm's  length  to  satisfy  her  mind  that  it  was  no  illusion 
But  the  form  was  indisputable — Douce  David  Deans  himself, 
in  his  best  light  blue  Sunday's  coat,  with  broad  metal  buttons 
and  waistcoat  and  breeches  of  the  same ;  his  strong  gramashes 
or  leggins  of  thick  grey  cloth ;  the  very  copper  buckles ;  the 
broad  Lowland  blue  bonnet,  thrown  back  as  he  lifted  his  eyes 
to  Heaven  in  speechless  gratitude ;  the  grey  locks  that  strag 
gled  from  beneath  it  down  his  weather-beaten  "  haff ets" ;  th 
bald  and  furrowed  forehead ;  the  clear  blue  eye,  that,  un 
dimmed  by  years,  gleamed  bright  and  pale  from  under  it 
shaggy  grey  pent-house;  the  features,  usually  so  stern  an 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


483 


stoical,  now  melted  into  the  unwonted  expression  of  rapturous 
joy,  affection,  and  gratitude — were  all  those  of  David  Deans ; 
and  so  happily  did  they  assort  together,  that,  should  I  ever 
again  see  my  friends  Wilkie  or  Allan,  I  will  try  to  borrow  or 
steal  from  them  a  sketch  of  this  very  scene. 

"  Jeanie — my  ain  Jeanie — my  best — my  maist  dutiful  bairn ! 
The  Lord  of  Israel  be  thy  father,  for  I  am  hardly  worthy  of 
thee !  Thou  hast  redeemed  our  captivity,  brought  back  the 
honour  of  our  house.  Bless  thee,  my  bairn,  with  mercies 
promised  and  purchased!  But  He  has  blessed  thee,  in  the 
good  of  which  He  has  made  thee  the  instrument." 

These  words  broke  from  him  not  without  tears,  though  David 
was  of  no  melting  mood.  Archibald  had,  with  delicate  atten- 
tion, withdrawn  the  spectators  from  the  interview,  so  that  the 
wood  and  setting  sun  alone  were  witnesses  of  the  expansion  of 
their  feelings. 

"And  Effie? — and  Effie,  dear  father?"  was  an  eager  inter- 
jectional  question  which  Jeanie  repeatedly  threw  in  among  her 
expressions  of  joyful  thankfulness. 

"  Ye  will  hear — ye  will  hear, "  said  David,  hastily,  and  ever 
and  anon  renewed  his  grateful  acknowledgments  to  Heaven  for 
sending  Jeanie  safe  down  from  the  land  of  prelatic  deadness 
and  schismatic  heresy ;  and  had  delivered  her  from  the  dan- 
gers of  the  way,  and  the  lions  that  were  in  the  path. 

"And  Effie?"  repeated  her  affectionate  sister  again  and 
again.  "  And— and  (fain  would  she  have  said  Butler,  but  she 
modified  the  direct  inquiry)— and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Saddletree — 
and  Dumbiedikes — and  a?  friends?" 

"A'  weel — a'  weel,  praise  to  His  name!" 

"And — and  Mr.  Butler?  He  wasna  weel  when  I  gaed 
awa\" 

"  He  is  quite  mended — quite  weel, "  replied  her  father. 

"Thank  God!  but  oh,  dear  father,  Effie?— Effie?" 

"You  will  never  see  her  mair,  my  bairn,"  answered  Deans 
in  a  solemn  tone.  "  You  are  the  ae  and  only  leaf  left  now  on 
the  auld  tree;  heal  be  your  portion!" 

"She  is  dead!  She  is  slain!  It  has  come  ower  late!"  ex- 
claimed Jeanie,  wringing  her  hands. 


484 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"No,  Jeanie,"  returned  Deans,  in  the  same  grave,  melan- 
choly tone.  "  She  lives  in  the  flesh,  and  is  at  freedom  from 
earthly  restraint,  if  she  were  as  much  alive  in  faith  and  as 
free  from  the  bonds  of  Satan." 

"The  Lord  protect  us!"  said  Jeanie.  "Can  the  unhappy 
bairn  hae  left  you  for  that  villain?" 

"  It  is  ower  truly  spoken, "  said  Deans.  "  She  has  left  her 
auld  father,  that  has  wept  and  prayed  for  her.  She  has  left 
her  sister,  that  travailed  and  toiled  for  her  like  a  mother.  She 
has  left  the  bones  of  her  mother,  and  the  land  of  her  people, 
and  she  is  ower  the  march  wi?  that  son  of  Belial.  She  has 
made  a  moonlight  flitting  of  it."  He  paused,  for  a  feeling 
betwixt  sorrow  and  strong  resentment  choked  his  utterance. 

"  And  wi'  that  man — that  fearfu'  man?"  said  Jeanie.  "  And 
she  has  left  us  to  gang  aff  wi'  him?  0  Efne,  Efne,  wha  could 
hae  thought  it,  after  sic  a  deliverance  as  you  had  been  gift- 
ed wi?!" 

"  She  went  out  from  us,  my  bairn,  because  she  was  not  of 
us, "  replied  David.  "  She  is  a  withered  branch  will  never 
bear  fruit  of  grace — a  scapegoat  gone  forth  into  the  wilderness 
of  the  world,  to  carry  wi?  her,  as  I  trust,  the  sins  of  our  little 
congregation.  The  peace  of  the  warld  gang  wi?  her,  and  a 
better  peace  when  she  has  the  grace  to  turn  to  it!  If  she  is 
of  His  elected,  His  ain  hour  will  come.  What  would  her 
mother  have  said,  that  famous  and  memorable  matron,  Rebec- 
ca M'  Naught,  whose  memory  is  like  a  flower  of  sweet  savour 
in  Newbattle  and  a  pot  of  frankincense  in  Lugton?  But  be 
it  sae ;  let  her  part — let  her  gang  her  gate — let  her  bite  on  her 
ain  bridle.  The  Lord  kens  His  time.  She  was  the  bairn  of 
prayers,  and  may  not  prove  an  utter  castaway.  But  never, 
Jeanie — never  more  let  her  name  be  spoken  between  you  and 
me.  She  hath  passed  from  us  like  the  brook  which  vanisheth 
when  the  summer  waxeth  warm,  as  patient  Job  saith ;  let  her 
pass,  and  be  forgotten." 

There  was  a  melancholy  pause  which  followed  these  expres- 
sions. Jeanie  would  fain  have  asked  more  circumstances  re- 
lating to  her  sister's  departure,  but  the  tone  of  her  father's 
prohibition  was  positive.    She  was  about  to  mention  her  inter- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


485 


view  with  Staunton  at  his  father's  rectory;  but,  on  hastily- 
running  over  the  particulars  in  her  memory,  she  thought  that, 
on  the  whole,  they  were  more  likely  to  aggravate  than  dimin- 
ish his  distress  of  mind.  She  turned,  therefore,  the  discourse 
from  this  painful  subject,  resolving  to  suspend  farther  inquiry 
until  she  should  see  Butler,  from  whom  she  expected  to  learn 
the  particulars  of  her  sister's  elopement. 

But  when  was  she  to  see  Butler?  was  a  question  she  could 
not  forbear  asking  herself,  especially  while  her  father,  as  if 
eager  to  escape  from  the  subject  of  his  youngest  daughter, 
pointed  to  the  opposite  shore  of  Dunbartonshire,  and  asking 
Jeanie  "if  it  werena  a  pleasant  abode?"  declared  to  her  his 
intention  of  removing  his  earthly  tabernacle  to  that  country, 
"  in  respect  he  was  solicited  by  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Argyle, 
as  one  well  skilled  in  country  labour  and  a'  that  appertained 
to  flocks  and  herds,  to  superintend  a  store  farm  whilk  his 
Grace  had  taen  into  his  ain  hand  for  the  improvement  of 
stock. " 

Jeanie' s  heart  sunk  within  her  at  this  declaration.  "  She 
allowed  it  was  a  goodly  and  pleasant  land,  and  sloped  bonnily 
to  the  western  sun ;  and  she  doubtedna  that  the  pasture  might 
be  very  gude,  for  the  grass  looked  green,  for  as  drouthy  as  the 
weather  had  been.  But  it  was  far  frae  hame,  and  she  thought 
she  wad  be  often  thinking  on  the  bonny  spots  of  turf,  sae 
fu'  of  gowans  and  yellow  kingcups,  amang  the  Crags  at  St. 
Leonard's." 

"  Dinna  speak  on't,  Jeanie,"  said  her  father;  "  I  wish  never 
to  hear  it  named  mair — that  is,  after  the  rouping  is  ower,  and 
the  bills  paid.  But  I  brought  a'  the  beasts  ower-bye  that  I 
thought  ye  wad  like  best.  There  is  Gowans,  and  there's  your 
ain  brockit  cow,  and  the  wee  hawkit  ane,  that  ye  ca'd — I  need- 
na  tell  ye  how  ye  ca'd  it;  but  I  couldna  bid  them  sell  the 
petted  creature,  though  the  sight  o't  may  sometimes  gie  us  a 
sair  heart:  it's  no  the  poor  dumb  creature's  fault.  And  ane 
or  twa  beasts  mair  I  hae  reserved,  and  I  caused  them  to  be 
driven  before  the  other  beasts,  that  men  might  say,  as  when 
the  son  of  Jesse  returned  from  battle,  'This  is  David's  spoil.'  " 

Upon  more  particular  inquiry,  J eanie  found  new  occasion  to 


486 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


admire  the  active  beneficence  of  her  friend  the  Duke  of  Argyle. 
While  establishing  a  sort  of  experimental  farm  on  the  skirts 
of  his  immense  Highland  estates,  he  had  been  somewhat  at  a 
loss  to  find  a  proper  person  in  whom  to  vest  the  charge  of  it. 
The  conversation  his  Grace  had  upon  country  matters  with 
Jeanie  Deans  during  their  return  from  Richmond  had  im- 
pressed him  with  a  belief  that  the  father,  whose  experience 
and  success  she  so  frequently  quoted,  must  be  exactly  the  sort 
of  person  whom  he  wanted.  When  the  condition  annexed  to 
Erne's  pardon  rendered  it  highly  probable  that  David  Deans 
would  choose  to  change  his  place  of  residence,  this  idea  again 
occurred  to  the  Duke  more  strongly,  and  as  he  was  an  enthu- 
siast equally  in  agriculture  and  in  benevolence,  he  imagined 
he  was  serving  the  purposes  of  both  when  he  wrote  to  the  gen- 
tleman in  Edinburgh  entrusted  with  his  affairs  to  inquire  into 
the  character  of  David  Deans,  cow-feeder,  and  so  forth,  at  St. 
Leonard's  Crags;  and  if  he  found  him  such  as  he  had  been 
represented,  to  engage  him  without  delay,  and  on  the  most 
liberal  terms,  to  superintend  his  fancy-farm  in  Dunbarton- 
shire. 

The  proposal  was  made  to  old  David  by  the  gentleman  so 
commissioned  on  the  second  day  after  his  daughter's  pardon 
had  reached  Edinburgh.  His  resolution  to  leave  St.  Leonard's 
had  been  already  formed;  the  honour  of  an  express  invitation 
from  the  Duke  of  Argyle  to  superintend  a  department  where 
so  much  skill  and  diligence  was  required  was  in  itself  ex- 
tremely flattering;  and  the  more  so,  because  honest  David, 
who  was  not  without  an  excellent  opinion  of  his  own  talents, 
persuaded  himself  that,  by  accepting  this  charge,  he  would  in 
some  sort  repay  the  great  favour  he  had  received  at  the  hands 
of  the  Argyle  family.  The  appointments,  including  the  right 
of  sufficient  grazing  for  a  small  stock  of  his  own,  were  amply 
liberal;  and  David's  keen  eye  saw  that  the  situation  was  con- 
venient for  trafficking  to  advantage  in  Highland  cattle.  There 
was  risk  of  "  hership"  from  the  neighbouring  mountains,  in- 
deed, but  the  awful  name  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle  would  be  a 
great  security,  and  a  trifle  of  black-mail  would,  David  was 
aware,  assure  his  safety. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


487 


Still,  however,  there  were  two  points  on  which  he  haggled. 
The  first  was  the  character  of  the  clergyman  with  whose  wor- 
ship he  was  to  join;  and  on  this  delicate  point  he  received,  as 
we  will  presently  show  the  reader,  perfect  satisfaction.  The 
next  obstacle  was  the  condition  of  his  youngest  daughter, 
obliged  as  she  was  to  leave  Scotland  for  so  many  years. 

The  gentleman  of  the  law  smiled,  and  said :  "  There  was  no 
occasion  to  interpret  that  clause  very  strictly ;  that  if  the  young 
woman  left  Scotland  for  a  few  months,  or  even  weeks,  and 
came  to  her  father's  new  residence  by  sea  from  the  western 
side  of  England,  nobody  would  know  of  her  arrival,  or  at 
least  nobody  who  had  either  the  right  or  inclination  to  give 
her  disturbance.  The  extensive  heritable  jurisdictions  of  his 
Grace  excluded  the  interference  of  other  magistrates  with 
those  living  on  his  estates,  and  they  who  were  in  immediate 
dependence  on  him  would  receive  orders  to  give  the  young 
woman  no  disturbance.  Living  on  the  verge  of  the  Highlands, 
she  might,  indeed,  be  said  to  be  out  of  Scotland,  that  is,  be- 
yond the  bounds  of  ordinary  law  and  civilisation." 

Old  Deans  was  not  quite  satisfied  with  this  reasoning ;  but 
the  elopement  of  Efiie,  which  took  place  on  the  third  night 
after  her  liberation,  rendered  his  residence  at  St.  Leonard's 
so  detestable  to  him  that  he  closed  at  once  with  the  proposal 
which  had  been  made  him,  and  entered  with  pleasure  into  the 
idea  of  surprising  Jeanie,  as  had  been  proposed  by  the  Duke, 
to  render  the  change  of  residence  more  striking  to  her.  The 
Duke  had  apprised  Archibald  of  these  circumstances,  with  or- 
ders to  act  according  to  the  instructions  he  should  receive  from 
Edinburgh,  and  by  which  accordingly  he  was  directed  to  bring 
Jeanie  to  Eoseneath. 

The  father  and  daughter  communicated  these  matters  to  each 
other,  now  stopping,  now  walking  slowly  towards  the  Lodge, 
which  showed  itself  among  the  trees,  at  about  half  a  mile's 
distance  from  the  little  bay  in  which  they  had  landed. 

As  they  approached  the  house,  David  Deans  informed  his 
daughter,  with  somewhat  like  a  grim  smile,  which  was  the 
utmost  advance  he  ever  made  towards  a  mirthful  expression 
of  visage,  that  "  there  was  baith  a  worshipful  gentleman  and 


488 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ane  reverend  gentleman  residing  therein.  The  worshipful 
gentleman  was  his  honour  the  Laird  of  Knocktarlitie,  who 
was  bailie  of  the  lordship  under  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  ane 
Hieland  gentleman,  tarred  wi*  the  same  stick,"  David  doubted, 
"  as  mony  of  them,  namely,  a  hasty  and  choleric  temper,  and 
a  neglect  of  the  higher  things  that  belong  to  salvation,  and 
also  a  gripping  unto  the  things  of  this  world,  without  muckle 
distinction  of  property;  but,  however,  ane  gude  hospitable 
gentleman,  with  whom  it  would  be  a  part  of  wisdom  to  live 
on  a  gude  understanding ;  for  Hielandmen  were  hasty — ower 
hasty.  As  for  the  reverend  person  of  whom  he  had  spoken, 
he  was  candidate  by  favour  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle  (for  David 
would  not  for  the  universe  have  called  him  presentee)  for  the 
kirk  of  the  parish  in  which  their  farm  was  situated,  and  he 
was  likely  to  be  highly  acceptable  unto  the  Christian  souls  of 
the  parish,  who  were  hungering  for  spiritual  manna,  having 
been  fed  but  upon  sour  Hieland  sowens  by  Mr.  Duncan  Mac- 
Donought,  the  last  minister,  who  began  the  morning  duly, 
Sunday  and  Saturday,  with  a  mutchkin  of  usquebaugh.  But 
I  need  say  the  less  about  the  present  lad, "  said  David,  again 
grimly  grimacing,  "  as  I  think  ye  may  hae  seen  him  afore ;  and 
here  he  is  come  to  meet  us." 

She  had  indeed  seen  him  before,  for  it  was  no  other  than 
Reuben  Butler  himself. 


CHAPTER  XLIIL 

No  more  shalt  thou  behold  thy  sister's  face  ; 
Thou  hast  already  had  her  last  embrace. 

Elegy  on  Mrs.  Anne  Killigrew. 

This  second  surprise  had  been  accomplished  for  Jeanie 
Deans  by  the  rod  of  the  same  benevolent  enchanter  whose 
power  had  transplanted  her  father  from  the  Crags  of  St. 
Leonard's  to  the  banks  of  the  Gare  Loch.  The  Duke  of  Ar- 
gyle was  not  a  person  to  forget  the  hereditary  debt  of  grati- 
tude which  had  been  bequeathed  to  him  by  his  grandfather 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


489 


in  favour  of  the  grandson  of  old  Bible  Butler.  He  had  inter- 
nally resolved  to  provide  for  Keuben  Butler  in  this  kirk  of 
Knocktarlitie,  of  which  the  incumbent  had  just  departed  this 
life.  Accordingly,  his  agent  received  the  necessary  instruc- 
tions for  that  purpose,  under  the  qualifying  condition  always 
that  the  learning  and  character  of  Mr.  Butler  should  be  found 
proper  for  the  charge.  Upon  inquiry,  these  were  found  as 
highly  satisfactory  as  had  been  reported  in  the  case  of  David 
Deans  himself. 

By  this  preferment,  the  Duke  of  Argyle  more  essentially 
benefited  his  friend  and  protegee,  Jeanie,  than  he  himself  was 
aware  of,  since  he  contributed  to  remove  objections  in  her 
father's  mind  to  the  match,  which  he  had  no  idea  had  been 
in  existence. 

We  have  already  noticed  that  Deans  had  something  of 
a  prejudice  against  Butler,  which  was,  perhaps,  in  some  de- 
gree owing  to  his  possessing  a  sort  of  consciousness  that 
the  poor  usher  looked  with  eyes  of  affection  upon  his  eld- 
est daughter.  This,  in  David's  eyes,  was  a  sin  of  presump- 
tion, even  although  it  should  not  be  followed  by  any  overt  act 
or  actual  proposal.  But  the  lively  interest  which  Butler  had 
displayed  in  his  distresses  since  Jeanie  set  forth  on  her  Lon- 
don expedition,  and  which,  therefore,  he  ascribed  to  personal 
respect  for  himself  individually,  had  greatly  softened  the  feel- 
ings of  irritability  with  which  David  had  sometimes  regarded 
him.  And,  while  he  was  in  this  good  disposition  towards 
Butler,  another  incident  took  place  which  had  great  influence 
on  the  old  man's  mind. 

So  soon  as  the  shock  of  Erne's  second  elopement  was  over, 
it  was  Deans' s  early  care  to  collect  and  refund  to  the  Laird  of 
Dumbiedikes  the  money  which  he  had  lent  for  Effie's  trial  and 
for  Jeanie' s  travelling  expenses.  The  Laird,  the  pony,  the 
cocked  hat,  and  the  tobacco-pipe  had  not  been  seen  at  St. 
Leonard's  Crags  for  many  a  day;  so  that,  in  order  to  pay  this 
debt,  David  was  under  the  necessity  of  repairing  in  person  to 
the  mansion  of  Dumbiedikes. 

He  found  it  in  a  state  of  unexpected  bustle.  There  were 
workmen  pulling  down  some  of  the  old  hangings  and  replac- 


490 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ing  them  with  others,  altering,  repairing,  scrubbing,  painting, 
and  whitewashing.  There  was  no  knowing  the  old  house, 
which  had  been  so  long  the  mansion  of  sloth  and  silence.  The 
Laird  himself  seemed  in  some  confusion,  and  his  reception, 
though  kind,  lacked  something  of  the  reverential  cordiality 
with  which  he  used  to  greet  David  Deans.  There  was  a 
change  also,  David  did  not  very  well  know  of  what  nature, 
about  the  exterior  of  this  landed  proprietor — an  improvement 
in  the  shape  of  his  garments,  a  spruceness  in  the  air  with 
which  they  were  put  on,  that  were  both  novelties.  Even  the 
old  hat  looked  smarter ;  the  cock  had  been  newly  pointed,  the 
lace  had  been  refreshed,  and  instead  of  slouching  backward 
or  forward  on  the  Laird's  head  as  it  happened  to  be  thrown 
on,  it  was  adjusted  with  a  knowing  inclination  over  one  eye. 

David  Deans  opened  his  business  and  told  down  the  cash. 
Dumbiedikes  steadily  inclined  his  ear  to  the  one,  and  counted 
the  other  with  great  accuracy,  interrupting  David,  while  he 
wag  talking  of  the  redemption  of  the  captivity  of  Judah,  to 
ask  him  whether  he  did  not  think  one  or  two  of  the  guineas 
looked  rather  light.  When  he  was  satisfied  on  this  point,  had 
pocketed  his  money,  and  had  signed  a  receipt,  he  addressed 
David  with  some  little  hesitation :  "  Jeanie  wad  be  writing  ye 
something,  gudeman?" 

"About  the  siller?"  replied  Davie.    "Nae  doubt  she  did." 

"And  did  she  say  nae  mair  about  me?"  asked  the  Laird. 

"  Nae  mair  but  kind  and  Christian  wishes ;  what  suld  she 
hae  said?"  replied  David,  fully  expecting  that  the  Laird's 
long  courtship,  if  his  dangling  after  Jeanie  deserves  so  active 
a  name,  was  now  coming  to  a  point.  And  so  indeed  it  was, 
but  not  to  that  point  which  he  wished  or  expected. 

"Aweel,  she  kens  her  ain  mind  best,  gudeman.  I  hae 
made  a  clean  house  o?  Jenny  Balchristie  and  her  niece.  They 
were  a  bad  pack — stealed  meat  and  mault,  and  loot  the  carters 
magg  the  coals.  I'm  to  be  married  the  morn,  and  kirkit  on 
Sunday." 

Whatever  David  felt,  he  was  too  proud  and  too  steady- 
minded  to  show  any  unpleasant  surprise  in  his  countenance 
and  manner. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


491 


"  I  wuas  ye  happy,  sir,  through  Hirn  that  gies  happiness ; 
marriage  is  an  honourable  state. " 

"  And  I  am  wedding  into  an  honourable  house,  David — the 
Laird  of  Lickpelf's  youngest  daughter;  she  sits  next  us  in  the 
kkk,  and  that's  the  way  I  came  to  think  on't." 

There  was  no  more  to  be  said,  but  again  to  wish  the  Laird 
joy,  to  taste  a  cup  of  his  liquor,  and  to  walk  back  again  to 
St.  Leonard's,  musing  on  the  mutability  of  human  affairs  and 
human  resolutions.  The  expectation  that  one  day  or  other 
Jeanie  would  be  Lady  Dumbiedikes  had,  in  spite  of  himself, 
kept  a  more  absolute  possession  of  David's  mind  than  he  him- 
self was  aware  of.  At  least  it  had  hitherto  seemed  an  union 
at  all  times  within  his  daughter's  reach,  whenever  she  might 
choose  to  give  her  silent  lover  any  degree  of  encouragement, 
and  now  it  was  vanished  for  ever.  David  returned,  therefore, 
in  no  very  gracious  humour  for  so  good  a  man.  He  was  an- 
gry with  Jeanie  for  not  having  encouraged  the  Laird;  he  was 
angry  with  the  Laird  for  requiring  encouragement;  and  he 
was  angry  with  himself  for  being  angry  at  all  on  the  occasion. 

On  his  return  he  found  the  gentleman  who  managed  the 
Duke  of  Argyle's  affairs  was  desirous  of  seeing  him,  with  a 
view  to  completing  the  arrangement  between  them.  Thus, 
after  a  brief  repose,  he  was  obliged  to  set  off  anew  for  Edin- 
burgh, so  that  old  May  Hettly  declared,  "  That  a'  this  was  to 
end  with  the  master  just  walking  himself  aff  his  feet." 

When  the  business  respecting  the  farm  had  been  talked  over 
and  arranged,  the  professional  gentleman  acquainted  David 
Deans,  in  answer  to  his  inquiries  concerning  the  state  of  pub- 
lic worship,  that  it  was  the  pleasure  of  the  Duke  to  put  an 
excellent  young  clergyman  called  Eeuben  Butler  into  the  par- 
ish, which  was  to  be  his  future  residence. 

"Reuben  Butler!"  exclaimed  David — "Reuben  Butler,  the 
usher  at  Liberton?" 

"The  very  same,"  said  the  Duke's  commissioner.  "His 
Grace  has  heard  an  excellent  character  of  him,  and  has  some 
hereditary  obligations  to  him  besides;  few  ministers  will  be 
so  comfortable  as  I  am  directed  to  make  Mr.  Butler." 

"Obligations!    The  Duke!    Obligations  to  Reuben  Butler! 


492 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Eeuben  Butler  a  placed  minister  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland!" 
exclaimed  David,  in  interminable  astonishment,  for  somehow 
he  had  been  led  by  the  bad  success  which  Butler  had  hitherto 
met  with  in  all  his  undertakings  to  consider  him  as  one  of 
those  stepsons  of  Fortune  whom  she  treats  with  unceasing 
rigour,  and  ends  with  disinheriting  altogether. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  time  at  which  we  are  disposed  to 
think  so  highly  of  a  friend  as  when  we  find  him  standing 
higher  than  we  expected  in  the  esteem  of  others.  When  as- 
sured of  the  reality  of  Butler's  change  of  prospects,  David 
expressed  his  great  satisfaction  at  his  success  in  life,  which, 
he  observed,  was  entirely  owing  to  himself  (David).  "I  ad- 
vised his  puir  grandmother,  who  was  but  a  silly  woman,  to 
breed  him  up  to  the  ministry ;  and  I  prophesied  that,  with  a 
blessing  on  his  endeavours,  he  would  become  a  polished  shaft 
in  the  temple.  He  may  be  something  ower  proud  o'  his  car- 
nal learning,  but  a  gude  lad,  and  has  the  root  of  the  matter ; 
as  ministers  gang  now,  where  ye'll  find  ane  better,  ye'll  find 
ten  waur  than  Eeuben  Butler." 

He  took  leave  of  the  man  of  business  and  walked  home- 
ward, forgetting  his  weariness  in  the  various  speculations  to 
which  this  wonderful  piece  of  intelligence  gave  rise.  Honest 
David  had  now,  like  other  great  men,  to  go  to  work  to  recon- 
cile his  speculative  principles  with  existing  circumstances; 
and,  like  other  great  men,  when  they  set  seriously  about  that 
task,  he  was  tolerably  successful. 

"  Ought  Eeuben  Butler  in  conscience  to  accept  of  this  pre- 
ferment in  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  subject  (as  David  at  present 
thought  that  establishment  was)  to  the  Erastian  encroach- 
ments of  the  civil  power?"  This  was  the  leading  question, 
and  he  considered  it  carefully.  "  The  Kirk  of  Scotland  was 
shorn  of  its  beams,  and  deprived  of  its  full  artillery  and  ban- 
ners of  authority ;  but  still  it  contained  zealous  aud  fructifying 
pastors,  attentive  congregations,  and,  with  all  her  spots  and 
blemishes,  the  like  of  this  kirk  was  nowhere  else  to  be  seen 
upon  earth." 

David's  doubts  had  been  too  many  and  too  critical  to  permit 
him  ever  unequivocally  to  unite  himself  with  any  of  the  dis- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  493 


senters,  who,  upon  various  accounts,  absolutely  seceded  from 
the  national  church.  He  had  often  joined  in  communion 
with  such  of  the  established  clergy  as  approached  nearest  to 
the  old  Presbyterian  model  and  principles  of  1640.  And  al- 
though there  were  many  things  to  be  amended  in  that  system, 
yet  he  remembered  that  he,  David  Deans,  had  himself  ever 
been  a  humbler  pleader  for  the  good  old  cause  in  a  legal  way, 
but  without  rushing  into  right-hand  excesses,  divisions,  and 
separations.  But,  as  an  enemy  to  separation,  he  might  join 
the  right-hand  of  fellowship  with  a  minister  of  the  Kirk  of 
Scotland  in  its  present  model.  Ergo,  Eeuben  Butler  might 
take  possession  of  the  parish  of  Knocktarlitie  without  forfeit- 
ing his  friendship  or  favour — Q.  E.  D.  But,  secondly,  came 
the  trying  point  of  lay  patronage,  which  David  Deans  had 
ever  maintained  to  be  a  coming  in  by  the  window  and  over  the 
wall,  a  cheating  and  starving  the  souls  of  a  whole  parish,  for 
the  purpose  of  clothing  the  back  and  filling  the  belly  of  the 
incumbent. 

This  presentation,  therefore,  from  the  Duke  of  Argyle, 
whatever  was  the  worth  and  high  character  of  that  nobleman, 
was  a  limb  of  the  brazen  image,  a  portion  of  the  evil  thing, 
and  with  no  kind  of  consistency  could  David  bend  his  mind 
to  favour  such  a  transaction.  But  if  the  parishioners  them- 
selves joined  in  a  general  call  to  Beuben  Butler  to  be  their 
pastor,  it  did  not  seem  quite  so  evident  that  the  existence  of 
this  unhappy  presentation  was  a  reason  for  his  refusing  them 
the  comforts  of  his  doctrine.  If  the  presbytery  admitted  him 
to  the  kirk  in  virtue  rather  of  that  act  of  patronage  than  of 
the  general  call  of  the  congregation,  that  might  be  their  error, 
and  David  allowed  it  was  a  heavy  one.  But  if  Beuben  But- 
ler accepted  of  the  cure  as  tendered  to  him  by  those  whom  he 
was  called  to  teach,  and  who  had  expressed  themselves  desir- 
ous to  learn,  David,  after  considering  and  reconsidering  the 
matter,  came,  through  the  great  virtue  of  "  if, "  to  be  of  opin- 
ion that  he  might  safely  so  act  in  that  matter. 

There  remained  a  third  stumbling-block — the  oaths  to  gov- 
ernment exacted  from  the  established  clergymen,  in  which 
they  acknowledge  an  Erastian  king  and  parliament,  and  ho- 


494 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


mologate  the  incorporating  Union  between  England  and  Scot- 
land, through  which-  the  latter  kingdom  had  become  part  and 
portion  of  the  former,  wherein  Prelacy,  the  sister  of  Popery, 
had  made  fast  her  throne  and  elevated  the  horns  of  her  mitre. 
These  were  symptoms  of  defection  which  had  often  made  Da- 
vid cry  out:  "My  bowels! — my  bowels!  I  am  pained  at  the 
very  heart!"  And  he  remembered  that  a  godly  Bow-head 
matron  had  been  carried  out  of  the  Tolbooth  Church  in  a 
swoon,  beyond  the  reach  of  brandy  and  burnt  feathers,  mere- 
ly on  hearing  these  fearful  words,  "  It  is  enacted  by  the  Lords 
spiritual  and  temporal,"  pronounced  from  a  Scottish  pulpit, 
in  the  proem  to  the  Porteous  proclamation.  These  oaths 
were,  therefore,  a  deep  compliance  and  dire  abomination 
— a  sin  and  a  snare,  and  a  danger  and  a  defection.  But  this 
shibboleth  was  not  always  exacted.  Ministers  had  respect 
to  their  own  tender  consciences  and  those  of  their  brethren ; 
and  it  was  not  till  a  later  period  that  the  reins  of  discipline 
were  taken  up  tight  by  the  General  Assemblies  and  presby- 
teries. The  peacemaking  particle  came  again  to  David's 
assistance.  If  an  incumbent  was  not  called  upon  to  make 
such  compliances,  and  if  he  got  a  right  entry  into  the  church 
without  intrusion,  and  by  orderly  appointment,  why,  upon 
the  whole,  David  Deans  came  to  be  of  opinion  that  the  said  in- 
cumbent might  lawfully  enjoy  the  spirituality  and  temporality 
of  the  cure  of  souls  at  Knocktarlitie,  with  stipend,  manse, 
glebe,  and  all  thereunto  appertaining. 

The  best  and  most  upright-minded  men  are  so  strongly  in- 
fluenced by  existing  circumstances,  that  it  would  be  somewhat 
cruel  to  inquire  too  nearly  what  weight  paternal  affection  gave 
to  these  ingenious  trains  of  reasoning.  Let  David  Deans' s 
situation  be  considered.  He  was  just  deprived  of  one  dangh- 
ter,  and  his  eldest,  to  whom  he  owed  so  much,  was  cut  off,  by 
the  sudden  resolution  of  Dumbiedikes,  from  the  high  hope 
which  David  had  entertained  that  she  might  one  day  be  mis- 
tress of  that  fair  lordship.  Just  while  this  disappointment 
was  bearing  heavy  on  his  spirits,  Butler  comes  before  his  im- 
agination— no  longer  the  half-starved  threadbare  usher,  but 
fat  and  sleek  and  fair,  the  beneficed  minister  of  Knocktarlitie, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  ^  A 

beloved  by  his  congregation,  exemplary  in  his  life,  powerfuM 
in  his  doctrine,  doing  the  duty  of  the  kirk  as  never  HighlancW 
minister  did  it  before,  turning  sinners  as  a  colley  dog  turnsH 
sheep,  a  favourite  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  and  drawing  a  sti-B 
pend  of  eight  hundred  punds  Scots  and  four  chalders  of  vie- 
tual.    Here  was  a  match  making  up,  in  David's  mind,  in  a 
tenfold  degree,  the  disappointment  in  the  case  of  Dumbie- 
dikes,  in  so  far  as  the  goodman  of  St.  Leonard's  held  a  power- 
ful minister  in  much  greater  admiration  than  a  mere  landed 
proprietor.    It  did  not  occur  to  him,  as  an  additional  reason 
in  favour  of  the  match,  that  Jeanie  might  herself  have  some 
choice  in  the  matter ;  for  the  idea  of  consulting  her  feelings 
never  once  entered  into  the  honest  man's  head,  any  more  than 
the  possibility  that  her  inclination  might  perhaps  differ  from 
his  own. 

The  result  of  his  meditations  was,  that  he  was  called  upon 
to  take  the  management  of  the  whole  affair  into  his  own  hand, 
and  give,  if  it  should  be  found  possible  without  sinful  compli- 
ance, or  backsliding,  or  defection  of  any  kind,  a  worthy  pas- 
tor to  the  kirk  of  Knocktarlitie.  Accordingly,  by  the  inter- 
vention of  the  honest  dealer  in  butter-milk  who  dwelt  in 
Liberton,  David  summoned  to  his  presence  Reuben  Butler. 
Even  from  this  worthy  messenger  he  was  unable  to  conceal 
certain  swelling  emotions  of  dignity,  insomuch  that,  when  the 
carter  had  communicated  his  message  to  the  usher,  he  added, 
that  "  Certainly  the  gudeman  of  St.  Leonard's  had  some  grand 
news  to  tell  him,  for  he  was  as  uplifted  as  a  midden-cock 
upon  pattens." 

Butler,  it  may  readily  be  conceived,  immediately  obeyed 
the  summons.  His  was  a  plain  character,  in  which  worth  and 
good  sense  and  simplicity  were  the  principal  ingredients ;  but 
love,  on  this  occasion,  gave  him  a  certain  degree  of  address. 
He  had  received  an  intimation  of  the  favour  designed  him  by 
the  Duke  of  Argyle,  with  what  feelings  those  only  can  conceive 
who  have  experienced  a  sudden  prospect  of  being  raised  to 
independence  and  respect,  from  penury  and  toil.  He  re- 
solved, however,  that  the  old  man  should  retain  all  the  con- 
sequence of  being,  in^  his  own  opinion,  the  first  to  communi- 


496 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


jate  the  important  intelligence.  At  the  same  time,  he  also 
determined  that  in  the  expected  conference  he  would  permit 
David  Deans  to  expatiate  at  length  upon  the  proposal  in  all 
its  bearings,  without  irritating  him  either  by  interruption  or 
contradiction.  This  last  plan  was  the  most  prudent  he  could 
have  adopted;  because,  although  there  were  many  doubts, 
which  David  Deans  could  himself  clear  up  to  his  own  satis- 
faction, yet  he  might  have  been  by  no  means  disposed  to  ac- 
cept the  solution  of  any  other  person ;  and  to  engage  him  in  an ; 
argument  would  have  been  certain  to  confirm  him  at  once  and 
for  ever  in  the  opinion  which  Butler  chanced  to  impugn. 

He  received  his  friend  with  an  appearance  of  important 
gravity,  which  real  misfortune  had  long  compelled  him  to  lay 
aside,  and  which  belonged  to  those  days  of  awful  authority  in 
which  he  predominated  over  Widow  Butler,  and  dictated  the 
mode  of  cultivating  the  crofts  at  Beersheba.  He  made  known 
to  Beuben  with  great  prolixity  the  prospect  of  his  changing 
his  present  residence  for  the  charge  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle's 
stock  farm  in  Dunbartonshire,  and  enumerated  the  various 
advantages  of  the  situation  with  obvious  self-congratulation; 
but  assured  the  patient  hearer  that  nothing  had  so  much 
moved  him  to  acceptance  as  the  sense  "  That,  by  his  skill  in 
bestial,  he  could  render  the  most  important  services  to  his 
Grace  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  to  whom,  in  the  late  unhappy  cir- 
cumstance (here  a  tear  dimmed  the  sparkle  of  pride  in  the 
old  man's  eye),  he  had  been  sae  muckle  obliged.  To  put  a 
rude  Hielandman  into  sic  a  charge,"  he  continued,  "what 
could  be  expected  but  that  he  suld  be  sic  a  chiefest  herdsman 
as  wicked  Doeg  the  Edomite ;  whereas,  while  this  grey  head 
is  to  the  fore,  not  a  clute  o'  them  but  sail  be  as  weel  cared 
for  as  if  they  were  the  fatted  kine  of  Pharaoh.  And  now, 
Beuben,  lad,  seeing  we  maun  remove  our  tent  to  a  strange 
country,  ye  will  be  casting  a  dolefu'  look  after  us,  and  think- 
ing with  whom  ye  are  to  hold  council  anent  your  government 
in  thae  slippery  and  backsliding  times ;  and  nae  doubt  remem- 
bering that  the  auld  man,  David  Deans,  was  made  the  instru- 
ment to  bring  you  out  of  the  mire  of  schism  and  heresy,  where- 
in your  father's  house  delighted  to  wallow;  aften  also,  nae 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


497 


doubt,  when  ye  are  pressed  wi'  ensnaring  trials  and  tenta- 
tions  and  heart-plagues,  you,  that  are  like  a  recruit  that  is 
marching  for  the  first  time  to  the  took  of  drum,  will  miss  the 
auld,  bauld,  and  experienced  veteran  soldier  that  has  felt  the 
brunt  of  mony  a  foul  day,  and  heard  the  bullets  whistle  as 
aften  as  he  has  hairs  left  on  his  auld  pow." 

It  is  very  possible  that  Butler  might  internally  be  of  opin- 
ion that  the  reflection  on  his  ancestor's  peculiar  tenets  might 
have  been  spared,  or  that  he  might  be  presumptuous  enough 
even  to  think  that,  at  his  years  and  with  his  own  lights,  he 
might  be  able  to  hold  his  course  without  the  pilotage  of  hon- 
est David.  But  he  only  replied  by  expressing  his  regret  that 
anything  should  separate  him  from  an  ancient,  tried,  and  af- 
fectionate friend. 

"But  how  can  it  be  helped,  man?"  said  David,  twisting  his 
features  into  a  sort  of  smile — "how  can  we  help  it?  I  trow 
ye  canna  tell  me  that.  Ye  maun  leave  that  to  ither  folk — to 
the  Duke  of  Argyle  and  me,  Reuben.  It's  a  gude  thing  to 
hae  friends  in  this  warld;  how  muckle  better  to  hae  an  inter- 
est beyond  it!"  And  David,  whose  piety,  though  not  always 
quite  rational,  was  as  sincere  as  it  was  habitual  and  fervent, 
looked  reverentially  upward,  and  paused. 

Mr.  Butler  intimated  the  pleasure  with  which  he  would  re- 
ceive his  friend's  advice  on  a  subject  so  important,  and  David 
resumed. 

"  What  think  ye  now,  Reuben,  of  a  kirk — a  regular  kirk 
under  the  present  establishment?    Were  sic  offered  to  yey 
wad  ye  be  free  to  accept  it,  and  under  whilk  provisions?  I 
I  am  speaking  but  by  way  of  query." 

Butler  replied :  "  That  if  such  a  prospect  were  held  out  to 
i  him,  he  would  probably  first  consult  whether  he  was  likely 
to  be  useful  to  the  parish  he  should  be  called  to ;  and  if  there 
appeared  a  fair  prospect  of  his  proving  so,  his  friend  must  be 
aware  that,  in  every  other  point  of  view,  it  would  be  highly 
advantageous  for  him." 

"  Right,  Reuben — very  right,  lad, "  answered  the  monitor, 
"your  aiti  conscience  is  the  first  thing  to  be  satisfied;  for 
how  sail  he  teach  others  that  has  himsell  sae  ill  learned  the 
32 


498 


WAYERLEY  NOVELS. 


Scriptures  as  to  grip  for  the  lucre  of  foul  earthly  prefer- 
ment, sic  as  gear  and  manse,  money  and  victual,  that  which 
is  not  his  in  a  spiritual  sense ;  or  wha  makes  his  kirk  a  stalk- 
ing-horse, from  behind  which  he  may  tak  aim  at  his  stipend? 
But  I  look  for  better  things  of  you ;  and  specially  ye  maun  be 
minded  not  to  act  altogether  on  your  ain  judgment,  for  there- 
through comes  sair  mistakes,  backslidings,  and  defections  on 
the  left  and  on  the  right.  If  there  were  sic  a  day  of  trial  put 
to  you,  Eeuben,  you,  who  are  a  young  lad,  although  it  may  be 
ye  are  gifted  wi?  the  carnal  tongues,  and  those  whilk  were 
spoken  at  Kome,  whilk  is  now  the  seat  of  the  scarlet  abomi- 
nation, and  by  the  Greeks,  to  whom  the  Gospel  was  as  foolish- 
ness, yet  natheless  ye  may  be  entreated  by  your  weel-wisher 
to  take  the  counsel  of  those  prudent  and  resolved  and  weather- 
withstanding  professors  wha  hae  kenn'd  what  it  was  to  lurk 
on  banks  and  in  mosses,  in  bogs  and  in  caverns,  and  to  risk 
the  peril  of  the  head  rather  than  renounce  the  honesty  of  the 
heart. " 

Butler  replied :  "  That  certainly,  possessing  such  a  friend 
as  he  hoped  and  trusted  he  had  in  the  goodman  himself, 
who  had  seen  so  many  changes  in  the  preceding  century,  he 
should  be  much  to  blame  if  he  did  not  avail  himself  of  his 
experience  and  friendly  counsel. " 

"Eneugh  said — eneugh  said,  Eeuben,"  said  David  Deans, 
with  internal  exultation ;  "  and  say  that  ye  were  in  the  predic- 
ament whereof  I  hae  spoken,  of  a  surety  I  would  deem  it  my 
duty  to  gang  to  the  root  o?  the  matter,  and  lay  bare  to  you  the 
ulcers  and  imposthumes,  and  the  sores  and  the  leprosies,  of 
this  our  time,  crying  aloud  and  sparing  not." 

David  Deans  was  now  in  his  element.  He  commenced  his 
examination  of  the  doctrines  and  belief  of  the  Christian  Church 
with  the  very  Culdees,  from  whom  he  passed  to  J ohn  Knox ; 
from  John  Knox  to  the  recusants  in  James  the  Sixth's  time — 
Bruce,  Black,  Blair,  Livingstone;  from  them  to  the  brief,  and 
at  length  triumphant,  period  of  the  Presbyterian  Church's 
splendour,  until  it  was  overrun  by  the  English  Independents. 
Then  followed  the  dismal  times  of  Prelacy,  the  indulgences, 
seven  in  number,  with  all  their  shades  and  bearings,  until  he 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


499 


arirved  at  the  reign  of  King  James  the  Second,  in  which  he 
himself  had  been,  in  his  own  mind,  neither  an  obscure  actor 
nor  an  obscure  sufferer.  Then  was  Butler  doomed  to  hear  the 
most  detailed  and  annotated  edition  of  what  he  had  so  often 
heard  before — David  Deans's  confinement,  namely,  in  the  iron 
cage  in  the  Canongate  tolbooth,  and  the  cause  thereof. 

We  should  be  very  unjust  to  our  friend  David  Deans  if  we 
should  "  pretermit, "  to  use  his  own  expression,  a  narrative 
which  he  held  essential  to  his  fame.  A  drunken  trooper  of 
the  Eoyal  Guards,  Francis  Gordon  by  name,  had  chased  five 
or  six  of  the  skulking  Whigs,  among  whom  was  our  friend 
David;  and  after  he  had  compelled  them  to  stand,  and  was 
in  the  act  of  brawling  with  them,  one  of  their  number  fired 
a  pocket-pistol  and  shot  him  dead.  David  used  to  sneer  and 
shake  his  head  when  any  one  asked  him  whether  he  had  been 
the  instrument  of  removing  this  wicked  persecutor -from  the 
face  of  the  earth.  In  fact,  the  merit  of  the  deed  lay  between 
him  and  his  friend,  Patrick  Walker,  the  pedlar,  whose  works 
he  was  so  fond  of  quoting.  Neither  of  them  cared  directly  to 
claim  the  merit  of  silencing  Mr.  Francis  Gordon  of  the  Life 
Guards,  there  being  some  wild  cousins  of  his  about  Edinburgh, 
who  might  have  been  even  yet  addicted  to  revenge,  but  yet 
neither  of  them  chose  to  disown  or  yield  to  the  other  the  merit 
of  this  active  defence  of  their  religious  rights.  David  said, 
that  if  he  had  fired  a  pistol  then,  it  was  what  he  never  did 
after  or  before.  And  as  for  Mr.  Patrick  Walker,  he  has  left 
it  upon  record  that  his  great  surprise  was  that  so  small  a 
pistol  could  kill  so  big  a  man.  These  are  the  words  of  that 
venerable  biographer,  whose  trade  had  not  taught  him  by 
experience  that  an  inch  was  as  good  as  an  ell :  "  He  (Francis 
Gordon)  got  a  shot  in  his  head  out  of  a  pocket-pistol,  rather 
fit  for  diverting  a  boy  than  killing  such  a  furious,  mad,  brisk 
man,  which  notwithstanding  killed  him  dead!"  1 

Upon  the  extensive  foundation  which  the  history  of  the 
kirk  afforded,  during  its  short-lived  triumph  and  long  tribu- 
lation, David,  with  length  of  breath  and  of  narrative  which 
would  have  astounded  any  one  but  a  lover  of  his  daughter, 
1  See  Death  of  Francis  Gordon.    Note  35. 


500 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


proceeded  to  lay  down  his  own  rules  for  guiding  the  conscience 
of  his  friend  as  an  aspirant  to  serve  in  the  ministry.  Upon 
this  subject  the  good  man  went  through  such  a  variety  of  nice 
and  casuistical  problems,  supposed  so  many  extreme  cases, 
made  the  distinctions  so  critical  and  nice  betwixt  the  right  hand 
and  the  left  hand,  betwixt  compliance  and  defection,  holding 
back  and  stepping  aside,  slipping  and  stumbling,  snares  and 
errors,  that  at  length,  after  having  limited  the  path  of  truth 
to  a  mathematical  line,  he  was  brought  to  the  broad  admission 
that  each  man's  conscience,  after  he  had  gained  a  certain  view 
of  the  difficult  navigation  which  he  was  to  encounter,  would 
be  the  best  guide  for  his  pilotage.  He  stated  the  examples 
and  arguments  for  and  against  the  acceptance  of  a  kirk  on  the 
present  revolution  model  with  much  more  impartiality  to  But- 
ler than  he  had  been  able  to  place  them  before  his  own  view. 
And  he  concluded  that  his  young  friend  ought  to  think  upon 
these  things,  and  be  guided  by  the  voice  of  his  own  con- 
science, whether  he  could  take  such  an  awful  trust  as  the 
charge  of  souls,  without  doing  injury  to  his  own  internal  con 
viction  of  what  is  right  or  wrong. 

When  David  had  finished  his  very  long  harangue,  whic 
was  only  interrupted  by  monosyllables,  or  little  more,  on  the 
part  of  Butler,  the  orator  himself  was  greatly  astonished  to 
find  that  the  conclusion  at  which  he  very  naturally  wished 
to  arrive  seemed  much  less  decisively  attained  than  when  he 
had  argued  the  case  in  his  own  mind. 

In  this  particular  David's  current  of  thinking  and  speaking 
only  illustrated  the  very  important  and  general  proposition 
concerning  the  excellence  of  the  publicity  of  debate.  For, 
under  the  influence  of  any  partial  feeling,  it  is  certain  that 
most  men  can  more  easily  reconcile  themselves  to  any  favour 
ite  measure  when  agitating  it  in  their  own  mind  than  whe 
obliged  to  expose  its  merits  to  a  third  party,  when  the  neces 
sity  of  seeming  impartial  procures  for  the  opposite  arguments 
a  much  more  fair  statement  than  that  which  he  affords  it  in 
tacit  meditation.    Having  finished  what  he  had  to  say,  David 
thought  himself  obliged  to  be  more  explicit  in  point  of  fact 
and  to  explain  that  this  was  no  hypothetical  case,  but  one  on 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


501 


which,  by  his  own  influence  and  that  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle, 
Eeuben  Butler  would  soon  be  called  to  decide. 

It  was  even  with  something  like  apprehension  that  David 
Deans  heard  Butler  announce,  in  return  to  this  communica- 
tion, that  he  would  take  that  night  to  consider  on  what  he 
had  said  with  such  kind  intentions,  and  return  him  an  answer 
the  next  morning.  The  feelings  of  the  father  mastered  David 
on  this  occasion.  He  pressed  Butler  to  spend  the  evening 
with  him.  He  produced,  most  unusual  at  his  meals,  one, 
nay,  two  bottles  of  aged  strong  ale.  He  spoke  of  his  daugh- 
ter— of  her  merits,  her  housewifery,  her  thrift,  her  affection. 
He  led  Butler  so  decidedly  up  to  a  declaration  of  his  feelings 
towards  Jeanie,  that  before  nightfall,  it  was  distinctly  under- 
stood she  was  to  be  the  bride  of  Reuben  Butler ;  and  if  they 
thought  it  indelicate  to  abridge  the  period  of  deliberation 
which  Reuben  had  stipulated,  it  seemed  to  be  sufficiently  un- 
derstood betwixt  them  that  there  was  a  strong  probability  of 
his  becoming  minister  of  Knocktarlitie,  providing  the  congre- 
gation were  as  willing  to  accept  of  him  as  the  Duke  to  grant 
him  the  presentation.  The  matter  of  the  oaths,  they  agreed, 
it  was  time  enough  to  dispute  about  whenever  the  shibboleth 
should  be  tendered. 

Many  arrangements  were  adopted  that  evening,  which  were 
afterwards  ripened  by  correspondence  with  the  Duke  of  Ar- 
gyle's  man  of  business,  who  entrusted  Deans  and  Butler  with 
the  benevolent  wish  of  his  principal  that  they  should  all  meet 
with  Jeanie,  on  her  return  from  England,  at  the  Duke's  hunt- 
ing-lodge in  Roseneath. 

This  retrospect,  so  far  as  the  placid  loves  of  Jeanie  Deans 
and  Reuben  Butler  are  concerned,  forms  a  full  explanation  of 
the  preceding  narrative  up  to  their  meeting  on  the  island  as 
already  mentioned. 


502 


WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

41 1  come,"  he  said,  "  my  love,  my  life, 
And — nature's  dearest  name — my  wife. 
Thy  father's  house  and  friends  resign, 
My  home,  my  friends,  my  sire,  are  thine." 

Logan. 

The  meeting  of  Jeanie  and  Butler,  under  circumstances 
promising  to  crown  an  affection  so  long  delayed,  was  rather 
affecting  from  its  simple  sincerity  than  from  its  uncommon 
vehemence  of  feeling.  David  Deans,  whose  practice  was 
sometimes  a  little  different  from  his  theory,  appalled  them  at 
first  by  giving  them  the  opinion  of  sundry  of  the  suffering 
preachers  and  champions  of  his  younger  days,  that  marriage, 
through  honourable  by  the  laws  of  Scripture,  was  yet  a  state 
over-rashly  coveted  by  professors,  and  especially  by  young 
ministers,  whose  desire,  he  said,  was  at  whiles  too  inordinate 
for  kirks,  stipends,  and  wives,  which  had  frequently  occa- 
sioned over-ready  compliance  with  the  general  defections  of 
the  times.  He  endeavoured  to  make  them  aware  also,  that 
hasty  wedlock  had  been  the  bane  of  many  a  savoury  profes- 
sor ;  that  the  unbelieving  wife  had  too  often  reversed  the  text, 
and  perverted  the  believing  husband;  that  when  the  famous 
Donald  Cargill,  being  then  hiding  in  Lee  Wood,  in  Lanark- 
shire, it  being  " killing  time,"  did,  upon  importunity,  marry 
Eobert  Marshal  of  Starry  Shaw,  he  had  thus  expressed  him- 
self :  "  What  hath  induced  Robert  to  marry  this  woman?  Her 
ill  will  overcome  his  good;  he  will  not  keep  the  way  long:  his 
thriving  days  are  done."  To  the  sad  accomplishment  of  which 
prophecy  David  said  he  was  himself  a  living  witness,  for  Eob- 
ert Marshall,  having  fallen  into  foul  compliances  with  the 
enemy,  went  home,  and  heard  the  curates,  declined  into  other 
steps  of  defection,  and  became  lightly  esteemed.  Indeed,  he 
observed  that  the  great  upholders  of  the  standard,  Cargill, 
Peden,  Cameron,  and  Renwick,  had  less  delight  in  tying  the 
bonds  of  matrimony  than  in  any  other  piece  of  their  minis- 
terial work ;  and  although  they  would  neither  dissuade  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


503 


parties  nor  refuse  their  office,  they  considered  the  being  called 
to  it  as  an  evidence  of  indifference  on  the  part  of  those  be- 
tween whom  it  was  solemnised  to  the  many  grievous  things  of 
the  day.  Notwithstanding,  however,  that  marriage  was  a 
snare  unto  many,  David  was  of  opinion,  as,  indeed,  he  had 
showed  in  his  practice,  "  that  it  was  in  itself  honourable,  es- 
pecially if  times  were  such  that  honest  men  could  be  secure 
against  being  shot,  hanged,  or  banished,  and  had  ane  compe- 
tent livelihood  to  maintain  themselves  and  those  that  might 
come  after  them.  And,  therefore, "  as  he  concluded  something 
abruptly,  addressing  Jeanie  and  Butler,  who,  with  faces  as 
high-coloured  as  crimson,  had  been  listening  to  his  lengthened 
argument  for  and  against  the  holy  state  of  matrimony,  "  I  will 
leave  ye  to  your  ain  cracks." 

As  their  private  conversation,  however  interesting  to  them- 
selves, might  probably  be  very  little  so  to  the  reader,  so  far 
as  it  respected  their  present  feelings  and  future  prospects,  we 
shall  pass  it  over,  and  only  mention  the  information  which 
Jeanie  received  from  Butler  concerning  her  sister's  elopement, 
which  contained  many  particulars  that  she  had  been  unable  to 
extract  from  her  father. 

Jeanie  learned,  therefore,  that  for  three  days  after  her  par- 
don had  arrived,  Effie  had  been  the  inmate  of  her  father's 
house  at  St.  Leonard's;  that  the  interviews  betwixt  David  and 
his  erring  child  which  had  taken  place  before  she  was  liber- 
ated from  prison  had  been  touching  in  the  extreme ;  but  But- 
ler could  not  suppress  his  opinion  that,  when  he  was  freed 
from  the  apprehension  of  losing  her  in  a  manner  so  horrible, 
her  father  had  tightened  the  bands  of  discipline,  so  as,  in 
some  degree,  to  gall  the  feelings  and  aggravate  the  irritability 
of  a  spirit  naturally  impatient  and  petulant,  and  now  doubly 
so  from  the  sense  of  merited  disgrace. 

On  tho  third  night,  Effie  disappeared  from  St.  Leonard's, 
leaving  no  intimation  whatever  of  the  route  she  had  taken. 
Butler,  however,  set  out  in  pursuit  of  her,  and  with  much 
trouble  traced  her  towards  a  little  landing-place,  formed  by  a 
small  brook  which  enters  the  sea  betwixt  Musselburgh  and 
Edinburgh.    This  place,  which  has  been  since  made  into  a  small 


504 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


harbour,  surrounded  by  many  villas  and  lodging-houses,  is  now 
termed  Portobello.  At  this  time  it  was  surrounded  by  a  waste 
common,  covered  with  furze,  and  unfrequented,  save  by  fish- 
ing-boats, and  now  and  then  a  smuggling  lugger.  A  vessel  of 
this  description  had  been  hovering  in  the  firth  at  the  time  of 
Effie's  elopement,  and,  as  Butler  ascertained,  a  boat  had  come 
ashore  in  the  evening  on  which  the  fugitive  had  disappeared, 
and  had  carried  on  board  a  female.  As  the  vessel  made  sail 
immediately,  and  landed  no  part  of  their  cargo,  there  seemed 
little  doubt  that  they  were  accomplices  of  the  notorious  Rob- 
ertson, and  that  the  vessel  had  only  come  into  the  firth  to 
carry  off  his  paramour. 

This  was  made  clear  by  a  letter  which  Butler  himself  soon 
afterwards  received  by  post,  signed  "E.  D.,"  but  without  bear- 
ing any  date  of  place  or  time.  It  was  miserably  ill  written 
and  spelt ;  sea-sickness  having  apparently  aided  the  derange- 
ment of  Effie's  very  irregular  orthography  and  mode  of  ex- 
pression. In  this  epistle,  however,  as  in  all  that  unfortunate 
girl  said  or  did,  there  was  something  to  praise  as  well  as  to 
blame.  She  said  in  her  letter:  "That  she  could  not  endure 
that  her  father  and  her  sister  should  go  into  banishment  or  be 
partakers  of  her  shame;  that  if  her  burden  was  a  heavy  one,  it 
was  of  her  own  binding,  and  she  had  the  more  right  to  bear 
it  alone;  that  in  future  they  could  not  be  a  comfort  to  her,  or 
she  to  them,  since  every  look  and  word  of  her  father  put  her 
in  mind  of  her  transgression,  and  was  like  to  drive  her  mad; 
that  she  had  nearly  lost  her  judgment  during  the  three  days 
she  was  at  St.  Leonard's:  her  father  meant  weel  by  her,  and 
all  men,  but  he  did  not  know  the  dreadful  pain  he  gave  her  in 
casting  up  her  sins.  If  Jeanie  had  been  at  hame,  it  might 
hae  dune  better ;  Jeanie  was  ane,  like  the  angels  in  heaven, 
that  rather  weep  for  sinners  than  reckon  their  transgressions. 
But  she  should  never  see  Jeanie  ony  mair,  and  that  was  the 
thought  that  gave  her  the  sairest  heart  of  a'  that  had  come 
and  gane  yet.  On  her  bended  knees  would  she  pray  for 
Jeanie,  night  aud  day,  baith  for  what  she  had  done  and  what 
she  had  scorned  to  do  in  her  behalf;  for  what  a  thought  would 
it  have  been  to  her  at  that  moment  o'  time,  if  that  upright 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


505 


creature  had  made  a  fault  to  save  her !  She  desired  her  father 
would  give  Jeanie  a'  the  gear — her  ain  {i.e.  Efne's)  mother's 
and  a\  She  had  made  a  deed  giving  up  her  right,  and  it  was 
in  Mr.  Novit's  hand.  Warld's  gear  was  henceforward  the  least 
of  her  care,  nor  was  it  likely  to  be  muckle  her  mister.  She 
hoped  this  would  make  it  easy  for  her  sister  to  settle" ;  and 
immediately  after  this  expression,  she  wished  Butler  himself 
all  good  things,  in  return  for  his  kindness  to  her.  "  For  her- 
self," she  said,  "she  kenn'd  her  lot  would  be  a  waesome  ane, 
but  it  was  of  her  own  framing,  sae  she  desired  the  less  pity. 
But,  for  her  friends'  satisfaction,  she  wished  them  to  know 
that  she  was  gaun  nae  ill  gate ;  that  they  who  had  done  her 
maist  wrong  were  now  willing  to  do  her  what  justice  was  in 
their  power;  and  she  would,  in  some  waiidly  respects,  be  far 
better  off  than  she  deserved.  But  she  desired  her  family  to 
remain  satisfied  with  this  assurance,  and  give  themselves  no 
trouble  in  making  further  inquiries  after  her." 

To  David  Deans  and  to  Butler  this  letter  gave  very  little 
comfort ;  for  what  was  to  be  expected  from  this  unfortunate 
girl's  uniting  her  fate  to  that  of  a  character  so  notorious  as 
Robertson,  who  they  readily  guessed  was  alluded  to  in  the 
last  sentence,  excepting  that  she  should  become  the  partner 
and  victim  of  his  future  crimes?  Jeanie,  who  knew  George 
Staunton's  character  and  real  rank,  saw  her  sister's  situation 
under  a  ray  of  better  hope.  She  augured  well  of  the  haste 
he  had  shown  to  reclaim  his  interest  in  Efhe,  and  she  trusted 
he  had  made  her  his  wife.  If  so,  it  seemed  improbable  that, 
with  his  expected  fortune  and  high  connexions,  he  should 
again  resume  the  life  of  criminal  adventure  which  he  had  led, 
especially  since,  as  matters  stood,  his  life  depended  upon  his 
keeping  his  own  secret,  which  could  only  be  done  by  an  entire 
change  of  his  habits,  and  particularly  by  avoiding  all  those 
who  had  known  the  heir  of  Willingham  under  the  character 
of  the  audacious,  criminal,  and  condemned  Eobertson. 

She  thought  it  most  likely  that  the  couple  would  go  abroad 
for  a  few  years,  and  not  return  to  England  until  the  affair  of 
Porteous  was  totally  forgotten.  Jeanie,  therefore,  saw  more 
hopes  for  her  sister  than  Butler  or  her  father  had  been  able 


506 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


to  perceive ;  but  she  was  not  at  liberty  to  impart  the  comfort 
which  she  felt  in  believing  that  she  would  be  secure  from  the 
pressure  of  poverty,  and  in  little  risk  of  being  seduced  into  the 
paths  of  guilt  She  could  not  have  explained  this  without 
making  public  what  it  was  essentially  necessary  for  Erne's 
chance  of  comfort  to  conceal,  the  identity,  namely,  of  George 
Staunton  and  George  Robertson.  After  all,  it  was  dreadful 
to  think  that  Effie  had  united  herself  to  a  man  condemned  for 
felony,  and  liable  to  trial-  for  murder,  whatever  might  be  his 
rank  in  life,  and  the  degree  of  his  repentance.  Besides,  it  was 
melancholy  to  reflect  that,  she  herself  being  in  possession  of 
the  whole  dreadful  secret,  it  was  most  probable  he  would,  out 
of  regard  to  his  own  feelings  and  fear  for  his  safety,  never 
again  permit  her  to  see  poor  Effie.  After  perusing  and  re- 
perusing  her  sister's  valedictory  letter,  she  gave  ease  to  her 
feelings  in  a  flood  of  tears,  which  Butler  in  vain  endeavoured 
to  check  by  every  soothing  attention  in  his  power.  She  was 
obliged,  however,  at  length  to  look  up  and  wipe  her  eyes,  for 
her  father,  thinking  he  had  allowed  the  lovers  time  enough 
for  conference,  was  now  advancing  towards  them  from  the 
Lodge,  accompanied  by  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder,  or,  as 
his  friends  called  him  for  brevity's  sake,  Duncan  Knock,  a 
title  which  some  youthful  exploits  had  rendered  peculiarly 
appropriate. 

This  Duncan  of  Knockdunder  was  a  person  of  first-rate 
importance  in  the  island  1  of  Roseneath  and  the  continental 
parishes  of  Knocktarlitie,  Kilmun,  and  so  forth;  nay,  his  in- 
fluence extended  as  far  as  Cowall,  where,  however,  it  wt 
obscured  by  that  of  another  factor.  The  Tower  of  Knock- 
dunder still  occupies,  with  its  remains,  a  cliff  overhanging 
the  Holy  Loch.  Duncan  swore  it  had  been  a  royal  castle;  if 
so,  it  was  one  of  the  smallest,  the  space  within  only  forming 
a  square  of  sixteen  feet,  and  bearing  therefore  a  ridiculous 
proportion  to  the  thickness  of  the  walls,  which  was  ten  feet 
at  least.  Such  as  it  was,  however,  it  had  long  given  the  title 
of  Captain,  equivalent  to  that  of  Chatelain,  to  the  ancestors  of 
Duncan,  who  were  retainers  of  the  house  of  Argyle,  and  held 
i  This  is,  more  correctly  speaking,  a  peninsula  (Laing). 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


507 


a  hereditary  jurisdiction  under  them,  of  little  extent  indeed, 
but  which  had  great  consequence  in  their  own  eyes,  and  was 
usually  administered  with  a  vigour  somewhat  beyond  the  law. 

The  present  representative  of  that  ancient  family  was  a  stout 
short  man  about  fifty,  whose  pleasure  it  was  to  unite  in  his 
own  person  the  dress  of  the  Highlands  and  Lowlands,  wear- 
ing on  his  head  a  black  tie-wig,  surmounted  by  a  fierce  cocked 
hat,  deeply  guarded  with  gold  lace,  while  the  rest  of  his  dress 
consisted  of  the  plaid  and  philabeg.  Duncan  superintended 
a  district  which  was  partly  Highland,  partly  Lowland,  and 
therefore  might  be  supposed  to  combine  their  national  habits, 
in  order  to  show  his  impartiality  to  Trojan  or  Tyrian.  The 
incongruity,  however,  had  a  whimsical  and  ludicrous  effect, 
as  it  made  his  head  and  body  look  as  if  belonging  to  different 
individuals ;  or,  as  some  one  said  who  had  seen  the  executions 
of  the  insurgent  prisoners  in  1715,  it  seemed  as  if  some 
Jacobite  enchanter,  having  recalled  the  sufferers  to  life,  had 
clapped,  in  his  haste,  an  Englishman's  head  on  a  Highlander's 
body.  To  finish  the  portrait,  the  bearing  of  the  gracious 
Duncan  was  brief,  bluff,  and  consequential,  and  the  upward 
turn  of  his  short  copper-coloured  nose  indicated  that  he  was 
somewhat  addicted  to  wrath  and  usquebaugh. 

When  this  dignitary  had  advanced  up  to  Butler  and  to 
Jeanie,  "  I  take  the  freedom,  Mr.  Deans,"  he  said,  in  a  very 
consequential  manner,  "  to  salute  your  daughter,  whilk  I  pre- 
sume this  young  lass  to  be.  I  kiss  every  pretty  girl  that  comes 
to  Roseneath,  in  virtue  of  my  office."  Having  made  this  gal- 
lant speech,  he  took  out  his  quid,  saluted  Jeanie  with  a  hearty 
smack,  and  bade  her  welcome  to  Ar gyle's  country.  Then  ad- 
dressing Butler,  he  said :  "  Ye  maun  gang  ower  and  meet  the 
carle  ministers  yonder  the  morn,  for  they  will  want  to  do  your 
job ;  and  synd  it  down  with  usquebaugh  doubtless :  they  sel- 
dom make  dry  wark  in  this  kintra." 

"  And  the  Laird  "  said  David  Deans,  addressing  Butler, 

in  further  explanation. 

"  The  Captain,  man, "  interrupted  Duncan ;  "  folk  winna  ken 
wha  ye  are  speaking  aboot  unless  ye  gie  shentlemens  their 
proper  title." 


508 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"  The  Captain,  then/'  said  David,  "  assures  me  that  the  call 
is  unanimous  on  the  part  of  the  parishioners — a  real  harmoni- 
ous call,  Reuben." 

"  I  pelieve, "  said  Duncan,  "  it  was  as  harmonious  as  could 
pe  expected,  when  the  tae  half  o'  the  bodies  were  clavering 
Sassenach  and  the  tother  skirling  Gaelic,  like  sea-maws  and 
clack-geese  before  a  storm.  Ane  wad  hae  needed  the  gift  of 
tongues  to  ken  preceesely  what  they  said;  but  I  pelieve  the 
best  end  of  it  was,  "  Long  live  MacCallummore  and  Knock- 
dunder!"  And  as  to  its  being  an  unanimous  call,  I  wad  be 
glad  to  ken  fat  business  the  carles  have  to  call  ony  thing  or 
ony  body  but  what  the  Duke  and  my  sell  likes!" 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Mr.  Butler,  "if  any  of  the  parish- 
ioners have  any  scruples,  which  sometimes  happen  in  the 
mind  of  sincere  professors,  I  should  be  happy  of  an  oppor- 
tunity of  trying  to  remove  " 

"  Never  fash  your  peard  about  it,  man, "  interrupted  Dun- 
can Knock.  "Leave  it  a'  to  me.  Scruple!  deil  ane  o'  them 
has  been  bred  up  to  scruple  ony  thing  that  they're  bidden  to  do. 
And  if  sic  a  thing  suld  happen  as  ye  speak  o',  ye  sail  see  the 
sincere  professor,  as  ye  ca'  him,  towed  at  the  stern  of  my  boat 
for  a  few  furlongs.  I'll  try  if  the  water  of  the  Haly  Loch 
winna  wash  off  scruples  as  weel  as  fleas.  ■  Cot  tarn-  !" 

The  rest  of  Duncan's  threat  was  lost  in  a  growling  gurgling 
sort  of  sound  which  he  made  in  his  throat,  and  which  menaced 
recusants  with  no  gentle  means  of  conversion.  David  Deans 
would  certainly  have  given  battle  in  defence  of  the  right  of 
the  Christian  congregation  to  be  consulted  in  the  choice  of 
their  own  pastor,  which,  in  his  estimation,  was  one  of  the 
choicest  and  most  inalienable  of  their  privileges ;  but  he  had 
again  engaged  in  close  conversation  with  Jeanie,  and,  with 
more  interest  than  he  was  in  use  to  take  in  affairs  foreign 
alike  to  his  occupation  and  to  his  religious  tenets,  was  inquir- 
ing into  the  particulars  of  her  London  journey.  This  was, 
perhaps,  fortunate  for  the  new -formed  friendship  betwixt  him 
and  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder,  which  rested,  in  David's 
estimation,  upon  the  proofs  he  had  given  of  his  skill  in  man- 
aging stock  j  but,  in  reality,  upon  the  special  charge  trans- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


509 


mitted  to  Duncan  from  the  Duke  and  his  agent  to  behave  with 
the  utmost  attention  to  Deans  and  his  family. 

"  And  now,  sirs, "  said  Duncan,  in  a  commanding  tone,  "  I 
am  to  pray  ye  a'  to  come  into  your  supper,  for  yonder  is  Mr. 
Archibald  half  famished,  and  a  Saxon  woman,  that  looks  as  if 
her  een  were  fleeing  out  o'  her  head  wi?  fear  and  wonder,  as 
if  she  had  never  seen  a  shentleman  in  a  philabeg  pefore." 

"  And  Reuben  Butler, "  said  David,  "  will  doubtless  desire 
instantly  to  retire,  that  he  may  prepare  his  mind  for  the  exer- 
cise of  to-morrow,  that  his  work  may  suit  the  day,  and  be  an 
offering  of  a  sweet  savour  in  the  nostrils  of  the  reverend  pres- 
bytery. " 

"Hout  tout,  man,  it's  but  little  ye  ken  about  them,"  inter- 
rupted the  Captain.  "  Teil  a  ane  o'  them  wad  gie  the  savour 
of  the  hot  venison  pasty  which  I  smell  (turning  his  squab  nose 
up  in  the  air)  a'  the  way  frae  the  Lodge,  for  a?  that  Mr.  Put- 
ler,  or  you  either,  can  say  to  them." 

David  groaned;  but  judging  he  had  to  do  with  a  Gallio,  as 
he  said,  did  not  think  it  worth  his  while  to  give  battle.  They 
followed  the  Captain  to  the  house,  and  arranged  themselves 
with  great  ceremony  round  a  well-loaded  supper-table.  The 
only  other  circumstance  of  the  evening  worthy  to  be  recorded 
is,  that  Butler  pronounced  the  blessing;  that  Knockdunder 
found  it  too  long,  and  David  Deans  censured  it  as  too  short ; 
from  which  the  charitable  reader  may  conclude  it  was  exactly 
the  proper  length. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

Now  turn  the  Psalms  of  David  ower 

And  lilt  wi'  holy  clangor  ; 
Of  double  verse  come  gie  us  four 

And  skirl  up  the  Bangor. 

Burns. 

The  next  was  the  important  day  when,  according  to  the 
forms  and  ritual  of  the  Scottish  Kirk,  Reuben  Butler  was  to 
be  ordained  minister  of  Knocktarlitie  by  the  presbytery  of 


510 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


 .      And  so  eager  were  the  whole  party,  that  all,  except* 

ing  Mrs.  Dutton,  the  destined  Cowslip  of  Inverary,  were  stir- 
ring at  an  early  hour. 

Their  host,  whose  appetite  was  as  quick  and  keen  as  his 
temper,  was  not  long  in  summoning  them  to  a  substantial 
breakfast,  where  there  were  at  least  a  dozen  of  different  prep- 
arations of  milk,  plenty  of  cold  meat,  scores  boiled  and  roasted 
eggs,  a  huge  cag  of  butter,  half  a  firkin  herrings  boiled  and 
broiled,  fresh  and  salt,  and  tea  and  coffee  for  them  that  liked 
it,  which,  as  their  landlord  assured  them,  with  a  nod  and  a 
wink,  pointing  at  the  same  time  to  a  little  cutter  which  seemed 
dodging  under  the  lee  of  the  island,  cost  them  little  beside  the 
fetching  ashore. 

"Is  the  contraband  trade  permitted  here  so  openly?"  said 
Butler.  "  I  should  think  it  very  unfavourable  to  the  people's 
morals." 

"  The  Duke,  Mr.  Putler,  has  gien  nae  orders  concerning  the 
putting  of  it  down, "  said  the  magistrate,  and  seemed  to  think 
that  he  had  said  all  that  was  necessary  to  justify  his  conni- 
vance. 

Butler  was  a  man  of  prudence,  and  aware  that  real  good  can 
only  be  obtained  by  remonstrance  when  remonstrance  is  well- 
timed;  so  for  the  present  he  said  nothing  more  on  the  subject. 

When  breakfast  was  half  over,  in  flounced  Mrs.  Dolly,  as 
fine  as  a  blue  sacque  and  cherry-coloured  ribbands  could  make 
her. 

"  Good  morrow  to  you,  madam, "  said  the  master  of  cere- 
monies; "I  trust  your  early  rising  will  not  scaith  ye." 

The  dame  apologised  to  Captain  Knockunder,  as  she  was 
pleased  to  term  their  entertainer ;  "  but,  as  we  say  in  Cheshire, " 
she  added,  "  I  was  like  the  mayor  of  Altringham,  who  lies  in 
bed  while  his  breeches  are  mending,  for  the  girl  did  not  bring 
up  the  right  bundle  to  my  room  till  she  had  brought  up  all  the 
others  by  mistake  one  after  t'other.  Well,  I  suppose  we  are 
all  for  church  to-day,  as  I  understand.  Pray  may  I  be  so 
bold  as  to  ask  if  it  is  the  fashion  for  you  North -Country  gen- 
tlemen to  go  to  church  in  your  petticoats,  Captain  Knock- 
under?" 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


511 


"Captain  of  Knockdunder,  madam,  if  you  please,  for  I 
knock  under  to  no  man ;  and  in  respect  of  my  garb,  I  shall 
go  to  church  as  I  am,  at  your  service,  madam ;  for  if  I  were  to 
lie  in  bed,  like  your  Major  What-d'ye-callum,  till  my  preeches 
were  mended,  I  might  be  there  all  my  life,  seeing  I  never  had 
a  pair  of  them  on  my  person  but  twice  in  my  life,  which  I 
am  pound  to  remember,  it  peing  when  the  Duke  brought  his 
Duchess  here,  when  her  Grace  pehoved  to  be  pleasured ;  so  I 
e'en  porrowed  the  minister's  trews  for  the  twa  days  his  Grace 
was  pleased  to  stay ;  but  I  will  put  myself  under  sic  confine- 
ment again  for  no  man  on  earth,  or  woman  either,  but  her 
Grace  being  always  excepted,  as  in  duty  pound." 

The  mistress  of  the  milking-pail  stared,  but,  making  no 
answer  to  this  round  declaration,  immediately  proceeded  to 
show  that  the  alarm  of  the  preceding  evening  had  in  no  degree 
injured  her  appetite. 

When  the  meal  was  finished,  the  Captain  proposed  to  them 
to  take  boat,  in  order  that  Mistress  Jeanie  might  see  her  new 
place  of  residence,  and  that  he  himself  might  inquire  whether 
the  necessary  preparations  had  been  made  there  and  at  the 
manse  for  receiving  the  future  inmates  of  these  mansions. 

The  morning  was  delightful,  and  the  huge  mountain-shad- 
ows slept  upon  the  mirrored  wave  of  the  firth,  almost  as  little 
disturbed  as  if  it  had  been  an  inland  lake.  Even  Mrs.  Dut- 
ton's  fears  no  longer  annoyed  her.  She  had  been  informed  by 
Archibald  that  there  was  to  be  some  sort  of  junketting  after  the 
sermon,  and  that  was  what  she  loved  dearly ;  and  as  for  the 
water,  it  was  so  still  it  would  look  quite  like  a  pleasuring 
on  the  Thames. 

The  whole  party  being  embarked,  therefore,  in  a  large  boat, 
which  the  Captain  called  his  coach  and  six,  and  attended  by 
a  smaller  one  termed  his  gig,  the  gallant  Duncan  steered 
straight  upon  the  little  tower  of  the  old-fashioned  church  of 
Knock tarlitie,  and  the  exertions  of  six  stout  rowers  sped  them 
rapidly  on  their  voyage.  As  they  neared  the  land,  the  hills 
appeared  to  recede  from  them,  and  a  little  valley,  formed  by 
the  descent  of  a  small  river  from  the  mountains,  evolved  itself 
as  it  were  upon  their  approach.    The  style  of  the  country  on 


512 


WAYERLEY  NOVELS. 


each  side  was  simply  pastoral,  and  resembled,  in  appearance 
and  character,  the  description  of  a  forgotten  Scottish  poet, 
which  runs  nearly  thus : 

The  water  gently  down  a  level  slid, 
With  little  din,  but  couthy  what  it  made ; 
On  ilka  side  the  trees  grew  thick  and  lang, 
And  wi'  the  wild  birds'  notes  were  a'  in  sang ; 
On  either  side,  a  full  bow-shot  and  mair, 
The  green  was  even,  gowany,  and  fair  ; 
With  easy  slope  on  every  hand  the  braes 
To  the  hills'  feet  with  scattered  bushes  raise ; 
With  goats  and  sheep  aboon,  and  kye  below, 
The  bonny  banks  all  in  a  swarm  did  go.1 

They  landed  in  this  Highland  Arcadia,  at  the  mouth  of  the 
small  stream  which  watered  the  delightful  and  peaceful  val- 
ley. Inhabitants  of  several  descriptions  came  to  pay  their 
respects  to  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder,  a  homage  which  he 
was  very  peremptory  in  exacting,  and  to  see  the  new  settlers. 
Some  of  these  were  men  after  David  Deans' s  own  heart,  el- 
ders of  the  kirk-session,  zealous  professors,  from  the  Lennox, 
Lanarkshire,  and  Ayrshire,  to  whom  the  preceding  Duke  of 
Argyle  had  given  "  rooms"  in  this  corner  of  his  estate,  be- 
cause they  had  suffered  for  joining  his  father,  the  unfortunate 
Earl,  during  his  ill-fated  attempt  in  1686.  These  were  cakes 
of  the  right  leaven  for  David  regaling  himself  with ;  and,  had 
it  not  been  for  this  circumstance,  he  has  been  heard  to  say, 
"that  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder  would  have  swore  him  out 
of  the  country  in  twenty-four  hours,  sae  awsome  it  was  to  ony 
thinking  soul  to  hear  his  imprecations,  upon  the  slightest 
temptation  that  crossed  his  humour." 

Besides  these,  there  were  a  wilder  set  of  parishioners,  moun- 
taineers from  the  upper  glen  and  adjacent  hill,  who  spoke 
Gaelic,  went  about  armed,  and  wore  the  Highland  dress.  But 
the  strict  commands  of  the  Duke  had  established  such  good 
order  in  this  part  of  his  territories,  that  the  Gael  and  Saxons 
lived  upon  the  best  possible  terms  of  good  neighbourhood. 

They  first  visited  the  manse,  as  the  parsonage  is  termed  in 
Scotland.  It  was  old,  but  in  good  repair,  and  stood  snugly 
1  Ross's  Fortunate  Shepherdess.    Edit.  1778,  p.  23. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


513 


embosomed  in  a  grove  of  sycamore,  with  a  well-stocked  gar- 
den in  front,  bounded  by  the  small  river,  which  was  partly 
visible  from  the  windows,  partly  concealed  by  the  bushes, 
trees,  and  bounding  hedge.  Within,  the  house  looked  less 
comfortable  than  it  might  have  been,  for  it  had  been  neg- 
lected by  the  late  incumbent ;  but  workmen  had  been  labour- 
ing under  the  directions  of  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder,  and 
at  the  expense  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  to  put  it  into  some 
order.  The  old  "plenishing"  had  been  removed,  and  neat 
but  plain  household  furniture  had  been  sent  down  by  the 
Duke  in  a  brig  of  his  own,  called  the  "  Caroline, "  and  was 
now  ready  to  be  placed  in  order  in  the  apartments. 

The  gracious  Duncan,  finding  matters  were  at  a  stand  among 
the  workmen,  summoned  before  him  the  delinquents,  and  im- 
pressed all  who  heard  him  with  a  sense  of  his  authority  by 
the  penalties  with  which  he  threatened  them  for  their  delay. 
Mulcting  them  in  half  their  charge,  he  assured  them,  would 
be  the  least  of  it ;  for,  if  they  were  to  neglect  his  pleasure  and 
the  Duke's,  "he  would  be  tamn'd  if  he  paid  them  the  tother 
half  either,  and  they  might  seek  lawr  for  it  where  they  could 
get  it."  The  work-people  humbled  themselves  before  the  of- 
fended dignitary,  and  spake  him  soft  and  fair ;  and  at  length, 
upon  Mr.  Butler  recalling  to  his  mind  that  it  was  the  ordina- 
tion-day, and  that  the  workmen  were  probably  thinking  of 
going  to  church,  Knockdunder  agreed  to  forgive  them,  out  of 
respect  to  their  new  minister. 

"  But  an  I  catch  them  neglecking  my  duty  again,  Mr.  Put- 
ler,  the  teil  pe  in  me  if  the  kirk  shall  be  an  excuse;  for  what 
has  the  like  o?  them  rapparees  to  do  at  the  kirk  ony  day  put 
Sundays,  or  then  either,  if  the  Duke  and  I  has  the  necessitous 
uses  for  them?" 

It  may  be  guessed  with  what  feelings  of  quiet  satisfaction 
and  delight  Butler  looked  forward  to  spending  his  days,  hon- 
oured and  useful  as  he  trusted  to  be,  in  this  sequestered  val- 
ley, and  how  often  an  intelligent  glance  was  exchanged  be- 
twixt him  and  Jeanie,  whose  good-humoured  face  looked 
positively  handsome,  from  the  expression  of  modesty,  and  at 
the  same  time  of  satisfaction,  which  she  wore  when  visiting 
33 


514 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


the  apartments  of  which  she  was  soon  to  call  herself  mistress. 
She  was  left  at  liberty  to  give  more  open  indulgence  to  her 
feelings  of  delight  and  admiration  when,  leaving  the  manse, 
the  company  proceeded  to  examine  the  destined  habitation  of 
David  Deans. 

Jeanie  found  with  pleasure  that  it  was  not  above  a  musket- 
shot  from  the  manse ;  for  it  had  been  a  bar  to  her  happiness 
to  think  she  might  be  obliged  to  reside  at  a  distance  from  her 
father,  and  she  was  aware  that  there  were  strong  objections  to 
his  actually  living  in  the  same  house  with  Butler.  But  this 
brief  distance  was  the  very  thing  which  she  could  have  wished. 

The  farm-house  was  on  the  plan  of  an  improved  cottage, 
and  contrived  with  great  regard  to  convenience ;  an  excellent 
little  garden,  an  orchard,  and  a  set  of  offices  complete,  accord- 
ing to  the  best  ideas  of  the  time,  combined  to  render  it  a  most 
desirable  habitation  for  the  practical  farmer,  and  far  superior 
to  the  hovel  at  Woodend  and  the  small  house  at  St.  Leonard's 
Crags.  The  situation  was  considerably  higher  than  that  of 
the  manse,  and  fronted  to  the  west.  The  windows  command- 
ed an  enchanting  view  of  the  little  vale  over  which  the  man- 
sion seemed  to  preside,  the  windings  of  the  stream,  and  the 
firth,  with  its  associated  lakes  and  romantic  islands.  The 
hills  of  Dumbartonshire,  once  possessed  by  the  fierce  clan  of 
MaeFarlanes,  formed  a  crescent  behind  the  valley,  and  far  to 
the  right  were  seen  the  dusky  and  more  gigantic  mountains  of 
Argyleshire,  with  a  seaward  view  of  the  shattered  and  thunder- 
splitten  peaks  of  Arran. 

But  to  Jeanie,  whose  taste  for  the  picturesque,  if  she  had 
any  by  nature,  had  never  been  awakened  or  cultivated,  the 
sight  of  the  faithful  old  May  Hettly,  as  she  opened  the  door 
to  receive  them  in  her  clean  toy,  Sunday's  russet-gown,  and 
blue  apron,  nicely  smoothed  down  before  her,  was  worth  the 
whole  varied  landscape.  The  raptures  of  the  faithful  old 
creature  at  seeing  Jeanie  were  equal  to  her  own,  as  she  hast- 
ened to  assure  her,  "  that  baith  the  gudeman  and  the  beasts  had 
been  as  weel  seen  after  as  she  possibly  could  contrive."  Sep- 
arating her  from  the  rest  of  the  company,  May  then  hurried 
her  young  mistress  to  the  offices,  that  she  might  receive  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


515 


compliments  she  expected  for  her  care  of  the  cows.  Jeanie 
rejoiced,  in  the  simplicity  of  her  heart,  to  see  her  charge 
once  more  j  and  the  mute  favourites  of  our  heroine,  Gowans 
and  the  others,  acknowledged  her  presence  by  lowing,  turning 
round  their  broad  and  decent  brows  when  they  heard  her  well- 
known  "  Pruh,  my  leddy — pruh,  my  woman,"  and  by  various 
indications,  known  only  to  those  who  have  studied  the  habits 
of  the  milky  mothers,  showing  sensible  pleasure  as  she  ap- 
proached to  caress  them  in  their  turn. 

"  The  very  brute  beasts  are  glad  to  see  ye  again,"  said  May; 
"  but  nae  wonder,  Jeanie,  for  ye  were  aye  kind  to  beast  and 
body.  And  I  maun  learn  to  ca'  ye  mistress  now,  Jeanie,  since 
ye  hae  been  up  to  Lunnon,  and  seen  the  Duke,  and  the  King, 
and  a'  the  braw  folk.  But  wha  kens, "  added  the  old  dame 
slyly,  "what  I'll  hae  to  ca'  ye  forbye  mistress,  for  I  am 
thinking  it  wunna  lang  be  Deans." 

"  Ca'  me  your  ain  Jeanie,  May,  and  then  ye  can  never  gang 
wrang." 

In  the  cow-house  which  they  examined  there  was  one  ani- 
mal which  Jeanie  looked  at  till  the  tears  gushed  from  her  eyes. 
May,  who  had  watched  her  with  a  sympathising  expression, 
immediately  observed,  in  an  undertone :  "  The  gudeman  aye 
sorts  that  beast  himsell,  and  is  kinder  to  it  than  ony  beast  in 
the  byre ;  and  I  notice  he  was  that  way  e'en  when  he  was  an- 
griest, and  had  maist  cause  to  be  angry.  Eh,  sirs!  a  parent's 
heart's  a  queer  thing!  Mony  a  warsle  he  has  had  for  that 
puir  lassie.  I  am  thinking  he  petitions  mair  for  her  than  for 
yoursell,  hinny ;  for  what  can  he  plead  for  you  but  just  to 
wish  you  the  blessing  ye  deserve?  And  when  I  sleepit  ayont 
the  hallen,  when  we  came  first  here,  he  was  often  earnest  a' 
night,  and  I  could  hear  him  come  ower  and  ower  again  wi' 
aEffie — puir  blinded  misguided  thing!"  it  was  aye  "Effie! 
Erne!"  If  that  puir  wandering  lamb  comena  into  the  sheep- 
fauld  in  the  Shepherd's  ain  time,  it  will  be  an  unco  wonder, 
for  I  wot  she  has  been  a  child  of  prayers.  Oh,  if  the  puir 
prodigal  wad  return,  sae  blythely  as  the  goodman  wad  kill 
the  fatted  calf! — though  Brockie's  calf  will  no  be  fit  for  kill- 
ing this  three  weeks  yet." 


516 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


And  then,  with  the  discursive  talent  of  persons  of  her  de- 
scription, she  got  once  more  afloat  in  her  account  of  domestic 
affairs,  and  left  this  delicate  and  affecting  topic. 

Having  looked  at  everything  in  the  offices  and  the  dairy, 
and  expressed  her  satisfaction  with  the  manner  in  which 
matters  had  been  managed  in  her  absence,  Jeanie  rejoined 
the  rest  of  the  party,  who  were  surveying  the  interior  of  the 
house,  all  excepting  David  Deans  and  Butler,  who  had  gone 
down  to  the  church  to  meet  the  kirk-session  and  the  clergy- 
men of  the  presbytery,  and  arrange  matters  for  the  duty  of 
the  day. 

In  the  interior  of  the  cottage  all  was  clean,  neat,  and  suit- 
able to  the  exterior.  It  had  been  originally  built  and  fur- 
nished by  the  Duke  as  a  retreat  for  a  favourite  domestic  of 
the  higher  class,  who  did  not  long  enjoy  it,  and  had  been  dead 
only  a  few  months,  so  that  everything  was  in  excellent  taste 
and  good  order.  But  in  Jeanie' s  bedroom  was  a  neat  trunk, 
which  had  greatly  excited  Mrs.  Dutton's  curiosity,  for  she 
was  sure  that  the  direction,  "  For  Mrs.  Jean  Deans,  at  Auch- 
ingower,  parish  of  Knocktarlitie, "  was  the  writing  of  Mrs. 
Semple,  the  Duchess's  own  woman.  May  Hettly  produced 
the  key  in  a  sealed  parcel,  which  bore  the  same  address,  and 
attached  to  the  key  was  a  label,  intimating  that  the  trunk  and 
its  contents  were  "a  token  of  remembrance  to  Jeanie  Deans 
from  her  friends  the  Duchess  of  Argyle  and  the  young  ladies. " 
The  trunk,  hastily  opened,  as  the  reader  will  not  doubt,  was 
found  to  be  full  of  wearing  apparel  of  the  best  quality,  suited 
to  Jeanie ?s  rank  in  life;  and  to  most  of  the  articles  the  names 
of  the  particular  donors  were  attached,  as  if  to  make  Jeanie 
sensible  not  only  of  the  general,  but  of  the  individual  interest 
she  had  excited  in  the  noble  family.  To  name  the  various  ar- 
ticles by  their  appropriate  names  would  be  to  attempt  things 
unattempted  yet  in  prose  or  rhyme;  besides,  that  the  old- 
fashioned  terms  of  manteaus,  sacques,  kissing-strings,  and  so 
forth  would  convey  but  little  information  even  to  the  milliners 
of  the  present  day.  (I  shall  deposit,  however,  an  accurate  in- 
ventory of  the  contents  of  the  trunk  with  my  kind  friend,  Miss 
Martha  Buskbody,  who  has  promised,  should  the  public  curi- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


osity  seem  interested  in  the  subject,  to  supply  me  with  a  pro- 
fessional glossary  and  commentary.)  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
the  gift  was  such  as  became  the  donors,  and  was  suited  to  the 
situation  of  the  receiver;  that  everything  was  handsome  and 
appropriate,  and  nothing  forgotten  which  belonged  to  the 
wardrobe  of  a  young  person  in  Jeanie's  situation  in  life,  the 
destined  bride  of  a  respectable  clergyman. 

Article  after  article  was  displayed,  commented  upon,  and 
admired,  to  the  wonder  of  May,  who  declared,  "she  didna 
think  the  Queen  had  mair  or  better  claise,"  and  somewhat  to 
the  envy  of  the  northern  Cowslip.  This  unamiable,  but  not 
very  unnatural,  disposition  of  mind  broke  forth  in  sundry  un- 
founded criticisms  to  the  disparagement  of  the  articles,  as 
they  were  severally  exhibited.  But  it  assumed  a  more  direct 
character  when,  at  the  bottom  of  all,  was  found  a  dress  of 
white  silk,  very  plainly  made,  but  still  of  white  silk,  and 
French  silk  to  boot,  with  a  paper  pinned  to  it,  bearing  that 
it  was  a  present  from  the  Duke  of  Argyle  to  his  travelling 
companion,  to  be  worn  on  the  day  when  she  should  change 
her  name. 

Mrs.  Dutton  could  forbear  no  longer,  but  whispered  into 
Mr.  Archibald's  ear,  that  it  was  a  clever  thing  to  be  a  Scotch- 
woman :  "  She  supposed  all  her  sisters,  and  she  had  half  a 
dozen,  might  have  been  hanged,  without  any  one  sending  her 
a  present  of  a  pocket  handkerchief. " 

"  Or  without  your  making  any  exertion  to  save  them,  Mrs. 
Dolly, "  answered  Archibald,  drily.  "  But  I  am  surprised  we 
do  not  hear  the  bell  yet, "  said  he,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"Fat  ta  deil,  Mr.  Archibald,"  answered  the  Captain  of 
Knockdunder,  "  wad  ye  hae  them  ring  the  bell  before  I  am 
ready  to  gang  to  kirk?  I  wad  gar  the  bedral  eat  the  bell-rope 
if  he  took  ony  sic  freedom.  But  if  ye  want  to  hear  the  bell, 
I  will  just  show  mysell  on  the  knowe-head,  and  it  will  begin 
jowling  forthwith." 

Accordingly,  so  soon  as  they  sallied  out,  and  the  gold-laced 
hat  of  the  Captain  was  seen  rising  like  Hesper  above  the  dewy 
verge  of  the  rising  ground,  the  clash— for  it  was  rather  a 
clash  than  a  clang — of  the  bell  was  heard  from  the  old  moss- 


518 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


grown  tower,  and  the  clapper  continued  to  thump  its  cracked 
sides  all  the  while  they  advanced  towards  the  kirk,  Duncan 
exhorting  them  to  take  their  own  time,  "  for  teil  ony  sport  wad 
be  till  he  came."  1 

Accordingly,  the  bell  only  changed  to  the  final  and  impa- 
tient chime  when  they  crossed  the  stile ;  and  "  rang  in, "  that 
is,  concluded  its  mistuned  summons,  when  they  had  entered 
the  Duke's  seat  in  the  little  kirk,  where  the  whole  party  ar- 
ranged themselves,  with  Duncan  at  their  head,  excepting 
David  Deans,  who  already  occupied  a  seat  among  the  elders. 

The  business  of  the  day,  with  a  particular  detail  of  which 
it  is  unnecessary  to  trouble  the  reader,  was  gone  through  ac- 
cording to  the  established  form,  and  the  sermon  pronounced 
upon  the  occasion  had  the  good  fortune  to  please  even  the 
critical  David  Deans,  though  it  was  only  an  hour  and  a  quar- 
ter long,  which  David  termed  a  short  allowance  of  spiritual 
provender. 

The  preacher,  who  was  a  divine  that  held  many  of  David's 
opinions,  privately  apologised  for  his  brevity  by  saying :  "  That 
he  observed  the  Captain  was  gaunting  grievously,  and  that  if 
he  had  detained  him  longer,  there  was  no  knowing  how  long 
he  might  be  in  paying  the  next  term's  victual  stipend." 

David  groaned  to  find  that  such  carnal  motives  could  have 
influence  upon  the  mind  of  a  powerful  preacher.  He  had, 
indeed,  been  scandalised  by  another  circumstance  during  the 
service. 

So  soon  as  the  congregation  were  seated  after  prayers,  and 
the  clergyman  had  read  his  text,  the  gracious  Duncan,  after 
rummaging  the  leathern  purse  which  hung  in  front  of  his  pet- 
ticoat, produced  a  short  tobacco-pipe  made  of  iron,  and  ob- 
served, almost  aloud :  "  I  hae  forgotten  my  spleuchan.  Lach- 
lan,  gang  down  to  the  clachan  and  bring  me  up  a  pennyworth 
of  twist."  Six  arms,  the  nearest  within  reach,  presented, 
with  an  obedient  start,  as  many  tobacco-pouches  to  the  man 
of  office.  He  made  choice  of  one  with  a  nod  of  acknowledg- 
ment, filled  his  pipe,  lighted  it  with  the  assistance  of  his 
pistol-flint,  and  smoked  with  infinite  composure  during  the 
1  See  Tolling  to  Service  in  Scotland.   Note  36. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


519 


whole  time  of  the  sermon.  When  the  discourse  was  finished, 
he  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  replaced  it  in  its  spor- 
ran, returned  the  tobacco  pouch  or  spleuchan  to  its  owner,  and 
joined  in  the  prayer  with  decency  and  attention. 

At  the  end  of  the  service,  when  Butler  had  been  admitted 
minister  of  the  kirk  of  Knocktarlitie,  with  all  its  spiritual 
immunities  and  privileges,  David,  who  had  frowned,  groaned, 
and  murmured  at  Knockdunder's  irreverent  demeanour,  com- 
municated his  plain  thoughts  of  the  matter  to  Isaac  Meikle- 
hose,  one  of  the  elders,  with  whom  a  reverential  aspect  and 
huge  grizzle  wig  had  especially  disposed  him  to  seek  fraterni- 
sation. "  It  didna  become  a  wild  Indian, "  David  said,  "  much 
less  a  Christian  and  a  gentleman,  to  sit  in  the  kirk  puffing 
tobacco-reek,  as  if  he  were  in  a  change-house." 

Meiklehose  shook  his  head,  and  allowed  it  was  "far  frae 
beseeming.  But  what  will  ye  say?  The  Captain's  a  queer 
hand,  and  to  speak  to  him  about  that  or  ony  thing  else  that 
crosses  the  maggot,  wad  be  to  set  the  kiln  a-low.  He  keeps 
a  high  hand  ower  the  country,  and  we  couldna  deal  wi'  the 
Hielandmen  without  his  protection,  sin'  a'  the  keys  o'  the 
kintray  hings  at  his  belt;  and  he's  no  an  ill  body  in  the  main, 
and  maistry,  ye  ken,  maws  the  meadows  doun." 

"That  may  be  very  true,  neighbour,"  said  David;  "but 
Reuben  Butler  isna  the  man  I  take  him  to  be  if  he  disna 
learn  the  Captain  to  puff  his  pipe  some  other  gate  than  in 
God's  house  or  the  quarter  be  ower." 

"  Fair  and  softly  gangs  far, "  said  Meiklehose ;  "  and  if  a 
f ule  may  gie  a  wise  man  a  counsel,  I  wad  hae  him  think  twice 
or  he  mells  wi'  Knockdunder.  He  suld  hae  a  lang-shankit 
spune  that  wad  sup  kail  wi'  the  deil.  But  they  are  a'  away 
to  their  dinner  to  the  change-house,  and  if  we  dinna  mend  our 
pace,  we'll  come  short  at  meal-time." 

David  accompanied  his  friend  without  answer ;  but  began 
to  feel  from  experience  that  the  glen  of  Knocktarlitie,  like 
the  rest  of  the  world,  was  haunted  by  its  own  special  subjects 
of  regret  and  discontent.  His  mind  was  so  much  occupied 
by  considering  the  best  means  of  converting  Duncan  of  Knock 
to  a  sense  of  reverent  decency  during  public  worship,  that  he 


520 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


altogether  forgot  to  inquire  whether  Butler  was  called  upon  to 
subscribe  the  oaths  to  government. 

Some  have  insinuated  that  his  neglect  on  this  head  was,  in 
some  degree,  intentional ;  but  I  think  this  explanation  incon- 
sistent with  the  simplicity  of  my  friend  David's  character. 
Neither  have  I  ever  been  able,  by  the  most  minute  inquiries, 
to  know  whether  the  formula  at  which  he  so  much  scrupled 
had  been  exacted  from  Butler,  aye  or  no.  The  books  of  the 
kirk-session  might  have  thrown  some  light  on  this  matter; 
but  unfortunately  they  were  destroyed  in  the  year  1746,  by 
one  Donacha  Dhu  na  Dunaigh,  at  the  instance,  it  was  said, 
or  at  least  by  the  connivance,  of  the  gracious  Duncan  of 
Knock,  who  had  a  desire  to  obliterate  the  recorded  foibles 
of  a  certain  Kate  Finlayson. 


CHAPTEE  XLVL 

Now  butt  and  ben  the  change-house  fills 

Wi'  yill-caup  commentators ; 

Here's  crying  out  for  bakes  and  gill*, 

And  there  the  pint-stoup  clatters. 

While  thick  and  thrang,  and  loud  and  lang, 

Wi'  logic  and  wi'  Scripture, 

They  raise  a  din  that  in  the  end 

Is  like  to  breed  a  rupture 

0'  wrath  that  day. 

Burns. 

A  plentiful  entertainment,  at  the  Duke  of  Argyle's  cost, 
regaled  the  reverend  gentlemen  who  had  assisted  at  the  ordi- 
nation of  Eeuben  Butler,  and  almost  all  the  respectable  part 
of  the  parish.  The  feast  was,  indeed,  such  as  the  country 
itself  furnished ;  for  plenty  of  all  the  requisites  for  "  a  rough 
and  round"  dinner  were  always  at  Duncan  of  Knock's  com- 
mand. There  was  the  beef  and  mutton  on  the  braes,  the 
fresh  and  saltwater  fish  in  the  lochs,  the  brooks,  and  firth; 
game  of  every  kind,  from  the  deer  to  the  leveret,  were  to  be 
had  for  the  killing  in  the  Duke's  forests,  moors,  heaths,  and 
mosses ;  and  for  liquor,  home-brewed  ale  flowed  as  freely  as 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


521 


water ;  brandy  and  usquebaugh  both  were  had  in  those  happy 
times  without  duty ;  even  white  wine  and  claret  were  got  for 
nothing,  since  the  Duke's  extensive  rights  of  admiralty  gave 
him  a  title  to  all  the  wine  in  cask  which  is  drifted  ashore  on 
the  western  coast  and  isles  of  Scotland,  when  shipping  have 
suffered  by  severe  weather.  In  short,  as  Duncan  boasted,  the 
entertainment  did  not  cost  MacCallummore  a  plack  out  of 
his  sporran,  and  was  nevertheless  not  only  liberal,  but  over- 
flowing. 

The  Duke's  health  was  solemnised  in  a  bona  fide  bumper, 
and  David  Deans  himself  added  perhaps  the  first  huzza  that 
his  lungs  had  ever  uttered  to  swell  the  shout  with  which  the 
pledge  was  received.  Nay,  so  exalted  in  heart  was  he  upon 
this  memorable  occasion,  and  so  much  disposed  to  be  indul- 
gent, that  he  expressed  no  dissatisfaction  when  three  bagpipers 
struck  up,  "The  Campbells  are  coming."  The  health  of  the 
reverend  minister  of  Knocktarlitie  was  received  with  similar 
honours ;  and  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter  when  one  of  his 
brethren  slyly  subjoined  the  addition  of,  "  A  good  wife  to  our 
brother,  to  keep  the  manse  in  order."  On  this  occasion  David 
Deans  was  delivered  of  his  first-born  joke;  and  apparently 
the  parturition  was  accompanied  with  many  throes,  for  sorely 
did  he  twist  about  his  physiognomy,  and  much  did  he  stumble 
in  his  speech,  before  he  could  express  his  idea,  "  That  the  lad 
being  now  wedded  to  his  spiritual  bride,  it  was  hard  to  threat- 
en him  with  ane  temporal  spouse  in  the  same  day."  He  then 
laughed  a  hoarse  and  brief  laugh,  and  was  suddenly  grave  and 
silent,  as  if  abashed  at  his  own  vivacious  effort. 

After  another  toast  or  two,  Jeanie,  Mrs.  Dolly,  and  such  of 
the  female  natives  as  had  honoured  the  feast  with  their  pres- 
ence, retired  to  David's  new  dwelling  at  Auchingower,  and 
left  the  gentlemen  to  their  potations. 

The  feast  proceeded  with  great  glee.  The  conversation, 
where  Duncan  had  it  under  his  direction,  was  not  indeed  al- 
ways strictly  canonical,  but  David  Deans  escaped  any  risk  of 
being  scandalised  by  engaging  with  one  of  his  neighbours  in 
a  recapitulation  of  the  sufferings  of  Ayrshire  and  Lanark- 
shire, during  what  was  called  the  invasion  of  the  Highland 


522 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Host ;  the  prudent  Mr.  Meiklehose  cautioning  them  from  time 
to  time  to  lower  their  voices,  for  "that  Duncan  Knock's  father 
had  been  at  that  onslaught,  and  brought  back  muckle  gude 
plenishing,  and  that  Duncan  was  no  unlikely  to  hae  been 
there  himself,  for  what  he  kenn'd." 

Meanwhile,  as  the  mirth  grew  fast  and  furious,  the  graver 
members  of  the  party  began  to  escape  as  well  as  they  could. 
David  Deans  accomplished  his  retreat,  and  Butler  anxiously 
watched  an  opportunity  to  follow  him.  Knockdunder,  how- 
ever, desirous,  he  said,  of  knowing  what  stuff  wTas  in  the  new 
minister,  had  no  intention  to  part  with  him  so  easily,  but 
kept  him  pinned  to  his  side,  watching  him  sedulously,  and 
with  obliging  violence  filling  his  glass  to  the  brim  as  often  as 
he  could  seize  an  opportunity  of  doing  so.  At  length,  as  the 
evening  was  wearing  late,  a  venerable  brother  chanced  to  ask 
Mr.  Archibald  when  they  might  hope  to  see  the  Duke,  tarn 
eartcm  caput,  as  he  would  venture  to  term  him,  at  the  Lodge 
of  Eoseneath.  Duncan  of  Knock,  whose  ideas  were  somewhat 
conglomerated,  and  who,  it  may  be  believed,  was  no  great 
scholar,  catching  up  some  imperfect  sound  of  the  words,  con- 
ceived the  speaker  was  drawing  a  parallel  between  the  Duke 
and  Sir  Donald  Gorme  of  Sleat;  and  being  of  opinion  that 
such  comparison  was  odious,  snorted  thrice,  and  prepared  him- 
self to  be  in  a  passion. 

To  the  explanation  of  the  venerable  divine  the  Captain  an- 
swered: "I  heard  the  word  ' Gorme'  myself,  sir,  with  my  ain 
ears.    Dy'e  think  I  do  not  know  Gaelic  from  Latin?" 

"  Apparently  not,  sir, "  so  the  clergyman,  offended  in  his 
turn,  and  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff,  answered  with  great  coolness. 

The  copper  nose  of  the  gracious  Duncan  now  became  heat- 
ed like  the  bull  of  Phalaris,  and  while  Mr.  Archibald  medi- 
ated betwixt  the  offended  parties,  and  the  attention  of  the 
company  was  engaged  by  their  dispute,  Butler  took  an  oppor- 
tunity to  effect  his  retreat. 

He  found  the  females  at  Auchingower  very  anxious  for  the 
breaking  up  of  the  convivial  party ;  for  it  was  a  part  of  the  ar- 
rangement that,  although  David  Deans  was  to  remain  at  Auch- 
ingower, and  Butler  was  that  night  to  take  possession  of  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


523 


manse,  jet  Jeanie,  for  whom  complete  accommodations  were 
not  yet  provided  in  her  father's  house,  was  to  return  for  a  day 
or  two  to  the  Lodge  at  Roseneath,  and  the  boats  had  been  held 
in  readiness  accordingly.  They  waited,  therefore,  for  Knock- 
dunder's  return,  but  twilight  came  and  they  still  waited  in 
vain.  At  length  Mr.  Archibald,  who,  as  a  man  of  decorum, 
had  taken  care  not  to  exceed  in  his  conviviality,  made  his  ap- 
pearance, and  advised  the  females  strongly  to  return  to  the 
island  under  his  escort ;  observing  that,  from  the  humour  in 
which  he  had  left  the  Captain,  it  was  a  great  chance  whether 
he  budged  out  of  the  public-house  that  night,  and  it  was  abso- 
lutely certain  that  he  would  not  be  very  fit  company  for  ladies. 
The  gig  was  at  their  disposal,  he  said,  and  there  was  still 
pleasant  twilight  for  a  party  on  the  water. 

Jeanie,  who  had  considerable  confidence  in  Archibald's  pru- 
dence, immediately  acquiesced  in  this  proposal ;  but  Mrs.  Dolly 
positively  objected  to  the  small  boat.  If  the  big  boat  could 
be  gotten,  she  agreed  to  set  out,  otherwise  she  would  sleep  on 
the  floor,  rather  than  stir  a  step.  Reasoning  with  Dolly  was 
out  of  the  question,  and  Archibald  did  not  think  the  difficulty 
so  pressing  as  to  require  compulsion.  He  observed :  "  It  was 
not  using  the  Captain  very  politely  to  deprive  him  of  his  coach 
and  six;  but  as  it  was  in  the  ladies'  service,"  he  gallantly 
said,  "  he  would  use  so  much  freedom ;  besides,  the  gig  would 
serve  the  Captain's  purpose  better,  as  it  could  come  off  at  any 
hour  of  the  tide ;  the  large  boat  should,  therefore,  be  at  Mrs. 
Dolly's  service." 

They  walked  to  the  beach  accordingly,  accompanied  by  But- 
ler. It  was  some  time  before  the  boatmen  could  be  assembled, 
and  ere  they  were  well  embarked,  and  ready  to  depart,  the 
pale  moon  was  come  over  the  hill,  and  flinging  a  trembling  re- 
flection on  the  broad  and  glittering  waves.  But  so  soft  and 
pleasant  was  the  night,  that  Butler,  in  bidding  farewell  to 
Jeanie,  had  no  apprehension  for  her  safety ;  and,  what  is  yet 
more  extraordinary,  Mrs.  Dolly  felt  no  alarm  for  her  own. 
The  air  was  soft,  and  came  over  the  cooling  wave  with  some- 
thing of  summer  fragrance.  The  beautiful  scene  of  headlands, 
and  capes,  and  bays  around  them,  with  the  broad  blue  chain 


524 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  mountains,  was  dimly  visible  in  the  moonlight ;  while  every 
dash  of  the  oars  made  the  waters  glance  and  sparkle  with  the 
brilliant  phenomenon  called  the  sea  fire. 

This  last  circumstance  filled  Jeanie  with  wonder,  and  served 
to  amuse  the  mind  of  her  companion,  until  they  approached 
the  little  bay,  which  seemed  to  stretch  its  dark  and  wooded 
arms  into  the  sea  as  if  to  welcome  them. 

The  usual  landing-place  was  at  a  quarter  of  a  mile's  distance 
from  the  Lodge,  and  although  the  tide  did  not  admit  of  the 
large  boat  coming  quite  close  to  the  jetty  of  loose  stones  which 
served  as  a  pier,  Jeanie,  who  was  both  bold  and  active,  easily 
sprung  ashore ;  but  Mrs.  Dolly  positively  refusing  to  commit 
herself  to  the  same  risk,  the  complaisant  Mr.  Archibald  or- 
dered the  boat  round  to  a  more  regular  landing-place,  at  a  con- 
siderable distance  along  the  shore.  He  then  prepared  to  land 
himself,  that  he  might,  in  the  mean  while,  accompany  Jeanie 
to  the  Lodge.  But  as  there  was  no  mistaking  the  woodland 
lane  which  led  from  thence  to  the  shore,  and  as  the  moonlight 
showed  her  one  of  the  white  chimneys  rising  out  of  the  wood 
which  embosomed  the  building,  Jeanie  declined  this  favour 
with  thanks,  and  requested  him  to  proceed  with  Mrs.  Dolly, 
who,  being  "  in  a  country  where  the  ways  were  strange  to  her, 
had  mair  need  of  countenance." 

This,  indeed,  was  a  fortunate  circumstance,  and  might  even 
be  said  to  save  poor  Cowslip's  life,  if  it  was  true,  as  she  her- 
self used  solemnly  to  aver,  that  she  must  positively  have  ex- 
pired for  fear  if  she  had  been  left  alone  in  the  boat  with  six 
wild  Highlanders  in  kilts. 

The  night  was  so  exquisitely  beautiful  that  Jeanie,  instead 
of  immediately  directing  her  course  towards  the  Lodge,  stood 
looking  after  the  boat  as  it  again  put  off  from  the  side,  and 
rowed  out  into  the  little  bay,  the  dark  figures  of  her  compan- 
ions growing  less  and  less  distinct  as  they  diminished  in  the 
distance,  and  the  jorram,  or  melancholy  boat-song,  of  the  row- 
ers coming  on  the  ear  with  softened  and  sweeter  sound,  until 
the  boat  rounded  the  headland  and  was  lost  to  her  observation. 

Still  Jeanie  remained  in  the  same  posture,  looking  out  upon 
the  sea.    It  would,  she  was  aware,  be  some  time  ere  her  com- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  525 


panions  could  reach  the  Lodge,  as  the  distance  by  the  more 
convenient  landing-place  was  considerably  greater  than  from 
the  point  where  she  stood,  and  she  was  not  sorry  to  have  an 
opportunity  to  spend  the  interval  by  herself. 

The  wonderful  change  which  a  few  weeks  had  wrought  in 
her  situation,  from  shame  and  grief,  and  almost  despair,  to 
honour,  joy,  and  a  fair  prospect  of  future  happiness,  passed 
before  her  eyes  with  a  sensation  which  brought  the  tears  into 
them.  Yet  they  flowed  at  the  same  time  from  another  source. 
As  human  happiness  is  never  perfect,  and  as  well-constructed 
niihSs  are  never  more  sensible  of  the  distresses  of  those  whom 
thevlove  than  when  their  own  situation  forms  a  contrast  with 
thern7  Jeanie' s  affectionate  regrets  turned  to  the  fate  of  her 
poor  sister — the  child  of  so  many  hopes,  the  fondled  nursling 
of  so  many  years — now  an  exile,  and,  what  was  worse,  de- 
pendent on  the  will  of  a  man  of  whose  habits  she  had  every 
reason  to  entertain  the  worst  opinion,  and  who,  even  in  his 
strongest  paroxysms  of  remorse,  had  appeared  too  much  a 
stranger  to  the  feelings  of  real  penitence. 

While  her  thoughts  were  occupied  with  these  melancholy  re- 
flections, a  shadowy  figure  seemed  to  detach  itself  from  the 
copsewood  on  her  right  hand.  Jeanie  started,  and  the  stories 
of  apparitions  and  wraiths,  seen  by  solitary  travellers  in  wild 
situations,  at  such  times  and  in  such  an  hour,  suddenly  came 
full  upon  her  imagination.  The  figure  glided  on,  and  as  it 
came  betwixt  her  and  the  moon,  she  was  aware  that  it  had  the 
appearance  of  a  woman.  A  soft  voice  twice  repeated,  "  Jeanie 
— Jeanie!"  Was  it  indeed — could  it  be  the  voice  of  her  sis- 
ter? Was  she  still  among  the  living,  or  had  the  grave  given 
up  its  tenant?  Ere  she  could  state  these  questions  to  her  own 
mind,  Effie,  alive  and  in  the  body,  had  clasped  her  in  her  arms, 
and  was  straining  her  to  her  bosom  and  devouring  her  with 
kisses.  "I  have  wandered  here,"  she  said,  "like  a  ghaist,  to 
see  you,  and  nae  wonder  you  take  me  for  ane.  I  thought  but 
to  see  you  gang  by,  or  to  hear  the  sound  of  your  voice ;  but  to 
speak  to  yoursell  again,  Jeanie,  was  mair  than  I  deserved,  and 
mair  than  I  durst  pray  for." 

"  Oh,  Effie !  how  came  ye  here  alone,  and  at  this  hour,  and 


526 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


on  the  wild  sea-beach?  Are  you  sure  it's  your  ain  living 
sell?" 

There  was  something  of  EffiVs  former  humour  in  her  prac- 
tically answering  the  question  by  a  gentle  pinch,  more  beseem- 
ing the  fingers  of  a  fairy  than  of  a  ghost. 

And  again  the  sisters  embraced,  and  laughed,  and  wept  by 
turns. 

"But  ye  maun  gang  up  wi'  me  to  the  Lodge,  Effie,"  said 
Jeanie,  "  and  tell  me  a'  your  story.  I  hae  gude  folk  there 
that  will  make  ye  welcome  for  my  sake." 

"  Na,  na,  Jeanie, "  replied  her  sister,  sorrowfully ;  "  ye  hae 
forgotten  what  I  am — a  banished  outlawed  creature,  scarce 
escaped  the  gallows  by  your  being  the  bauldest  and  the  best 
sister  that  ever  lived.  I'll  gae  near  nane  o'  your  grand 
friends,  even  if  there  was  nae  danger  to  me." 

"There  is  nae  danger — there  shall  be  nae  danger,"  said 
Jeanie,  eagerly.  "  Oh,  Effie,  dinna  be  wilfu' :  be  guided  for 
anes;  we  will  be  sae  happy  a?  thegither!" 

"  I  have  a'  the  happiness  I  deserve  on  this  side  of  the  grave, 
now  that  I  hae  seen  you, "  answered  Effie ;  "  and  whether  there 
were  danger  to  mysell  or  no,  naebody  shall  ever  say  that  I 
come  with  my  cheat-the-gallows  face  to  shame  my  sister 
amang  her  grand  friends." 

"I  hae  nae  grand  friends,"  said  Jeanie;  "nae  friends  but 
what  are  friends  of  yours — Eeuben  Butler  and  my  father. 
Oh,  unhappy  lassie,  dinna  be  dour,  and  turn  your  back  on 
your  happiness  again!  We  wunna  see  another  acquaintance. 
Comehame  to  us,  your  ain  dearest  friends;  it's  better  shelter- 
ing under  an  auld  hedge  than  under  a  new-planted  wood." 

"It's  in  vain  speaking,  Jeanie:  I  maun  drink  as  I  hae 
brewed.  I  am  married,  and  I  maun  follow  my  husband  for 
better  for  worse." 

"Married,  Effie!"  exclaimed  Jeanie.  " Misf ortunate  crea- 
ture! and  to  that  awfu'  " 

"Hush,  hush!"  said  Effie,  clapping  one  hand  on  her  mouth, 
and  pointing  to  the  thicket  with  the  other;  "he  is  yonder." 
She  said  this  in  a  tone  which  showed  that  her  husband  had 
found  means  to  inspire  her  with  awe  as  well  as  affection. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


527 


At  this  moment  a  man  issued  from  the  wood.  It  was  young 
Staunton.  Even  by  the  imperfect  light  of  the  moon,  Jeanie 
could  observe  that  he  was  handsomely  dressed,  and  had  the 
air  of  a  person  of  rank. 

"  Erne, "  he  said,  "  our  time  is  wellnigh  spent ;  the  skiff  will 
be  aground  in  the  creek,  and  I  dare  not  stay  longer.  I  hope 
your  sister  will  allow  me  to  salute  her?"  But  Jeanie  shrunk 
back  from  him  with  a  feeling  of  internal  abhorrence.  "  Well, " 
he  said,  "  it  does  not  much  signify ;  if  you  keep  up  the  feeling 
of  ill-will,  at  least  you  do  not  act  upon  it,  and  I  thank  you  for 
your  respect  to  my  secret,  when  a  word — which  in  your  place 
I  would  have  spoken  at  once — would  have  cost  me  my  life. 
People  say  you  should  keep  from  the  wife  of  your  bosom  the 
secret  that  concerns  your  neck :  my  wife  and  her  sister  both 
know  mine,  and  I  shall  not  sleep  a  wink  the  less  sound." 

"  But  are  you  really  married  to  my  sister,  sir?"  asked  Jeanie, 
in  great  doubt  and  anxiety ;  for  the  haughty,  careless  tone  in 
which  he  spoke  seemed  to  justify  her  worst  apprehensions. 

"  I  really  am  legally  married,  and  by  my  own  name,"  replied 
Staunton,  more  gravely. 

"And  your  father — and  your  friends  • 

"  And  my  father  and  my  friends  must  just  reconcile  them- 
selves to  that  which  is  done  and  cannot  be  undone,"  replied 
Staunton.  "  However,  it  is  my  intention,  in  order  to  break 
off  dangerous  connexions,  and  to  let  my  friends  come  to  their 
temper,  to  conceal  my  marriage  for  the  present,  and  stay 
abroad  for  some  years.  So  that  you  will  not  hear  of  us  for 
some  time,  if  ever  you  hear  of  us  again  at  all.  It  would  be 
dangerous,  you  must  be  aware,  to  keep  up  the  correspondence ; 
for  all  would  guess  that  the  husband  of  Effie  was  the— what 
shall  I  call  myself? — the  slayer  of  Porteous." 

"Hard-hearted,  light  man!"  thought  Jeanie;  "to  what  a 
character  she  has  entrusted  her  happiness !  She  has  sown  the 
wind,  and  maun  reap  the  whirlwind. " 

"Dinna  think  ill  o'  him,"  said  Effie,  breaking  away  from 
her  husband,  and  leading  Jeanie  a  step  or  two  out  of  hear- 
ing— "dinna  think  very  ill  o'  him;  he's  gude  to  me,  Jeanie — 
as  gude  as  I  deserve.    And  he  is  determined  to  gie  up  his  bad 


528 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


courses.  Sae,  after  aJ,  dinna  greet  for  Effie;  she  is  better  off 
than  she  has  wrought  for.  But  you — oh  you ! — how  can  you 
be  happy  eneugh!  Never  till  ye  get  to  Heaven,  where  a' body 
is  as  gude  as  yoursell.  Jeanie,  if  I  live  and  thrive  ye  shall 
hear  of  me ;  if  not,  just  forget  that  sic  a  creature  ever  lived 
to  vex  ye.    Fare  ye  weel — fare — fare  ye  weel!" 

She  tore  herself  from  her  sister's  arms;  rejoined  her  hus- 
band; they  plunged  into  the  copsewood,  and  she  saw  them  no 
more. 

The  whole  scene  had  the  effect  of  a  vision,  and  she  could 
almost  have  believed  it  such,  but  that  very  soon  after  they 
quitted  her  she  heard  the  sound  of  oars,  and  a  skiff  was  seen 
on  the  firth,  pulling  swiftly  towards  the  small  smuggling  sloop 
which  lay  in  the  offing.  It  was  on  board  of  such  a  vessel  that 
Effie  had  embarked  at  Portobello,  and  Jeanie  had  no  doubt 
that  the  same  conveyance  was  destined,  as  Staunton  had 
hinted,  to  transport  them  to  a  foreign  country. 

Although  it  was  impossible  to  determine  whether  this  inter- 
view, while  it  was  passing,  gave  more  pain  or  pleasure  to 
Jeanie  Deans,  yet  the  ultimate  impression  which  remained  on 
her  mind  was  decidedly  favourable.  Effie  was  married — made, 
according  to  the  common  phrase,  an  honest  woman;  that  was 
one  main  point.  It  seemed  also  as  if  her  husband  were  about 
to  abandon  the  path  of  gross  vice,  in  which  he  had  run  so  long 
and  so  desperately ;  that  was  another ;  for  his  final  and  effec- 
tual conversion,  he  did  not  want  understanding,  and  God  knew 
His  own  hour. 

Such  were  the  thoughts  with  which  Jeanie  endeavoured  to 
console  her  anxiety  respecting  her  sister's  future  fortune.  On 
her  arrival  at  the  Lodge,  she  found  Archibald  in  some  anxiety 
at  her  stay,  and  about  to  walk  out  in  quest  of  her.  A  head- 
ache served  as  an  apology  for  retiring  to  rest,  in  order  to  con- 
ceal her  visible  agitation  of  mind  from  her  companions. 

By  this  secession  also,  she  escaped  another  scene  of  a  differ- 
ent sort.  Eor,  as  if  there  were  danger  in  all  gigs,  whether  by 
sea  or  land,  that  of  Knockdunder  had  been  run  down  by  another 
boat,  an  accident  owing  chiefly  to  the  drunkenness  of  the  Cap- 
tain, his  crew,  and  passengers.    Knockdunder,  and  two  or 


THE  HEAKT  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


529 


three  guests  whom  he  was  bringing  along  with  him  to  finish 
the  conviviality  of  the  evening  at  the  Lodge,  got  a  sound  duck- 
ing; but,  being  rescued  by  the  crew  of  the  boat  which  endan- 
gered them,  there  was  no  ultimate  loss,  excepting  that  of  the 
Captain's  laced  hat,  which,  greatly  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
Highland  part  of  the  district,  as  well  as  to  the  improvement 
of  the  conformity  of  his  own  personal  appearance,  he  replaced 
by  a  smart  Highland  bonnet  next  day.    Many  were  the  vehe- 
ment threats  of  vengeance  which,  on  the  succeeding  morning, 
the  gracious  Duncan  threw  out  against  the  boat  which  had 
upset  him;  but  as  neither  she  nor  the  small  smuggling  vessel 
to  which  she  belonged  was  any  longer  to  be  seen  in  the  firth 
he  was  compelled  to  sit  down  with  the  affront.    This  was  the 
more  hard,  he  said,  as  he  was  assured  the  mischief  was  done 
on  purpose,  these  scoundrels  having  lurked  about  after  they 
had  landed  every  drop  of  brandy  and  every  bag  of  tea  they 
had  on  board;  and  he  understood  the  coxswain  had  been  on 
shore  making  particular  inquiries  concerning  the  time  when 
boat  was  to  cross  over,  and  to  return,  and  so  forth. 
"Put  the  neist  time  they  meet  me  on  the  firth,"  said  Dun- 
can, with  great  majesty,  "I  will  teach  the  moonlight  rapscal- 
lions and  vagabonds  to  keep  their  ain  side  of  the  road,  and 
be  tamn'd  to  them!" 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

Lord  !  who  would  live  turmoiled  in  a  court, 
And  may  enjoy  such  quiet  walks  as  these? 

Shakspeake. 

.  Within  a  reasonable  time  after  Butler  was  safely  and  com- 
:ortably  settled  in  his  living,  and  Jeanie  had  taken  up  her 
ibode  at  Auchingower  with  her  father— the  precise  extent  of 
vhich  interval  we  request  each  reader  to  settle  according  to 
us  own  sense  of  what  is  decent  and  proper  upon  the  occa- 
iion— and  after  due  proclamation  of  banns  and  all  other  for- 
nahties,  the  long  wooing  of  this  worthy  pair  was  ended  by  their 
inion  in  the  holy  bands  of  matrimony.  On  this  occasion, 
34  ' 


530 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


David  Deans  stoutly  withstood  the  iniquities  of  pipes,  fiddles, 
and  promiscuous  dancing,  to  the  great  wrath  of  the  Captain  of 
Knockdunder,  who  said,  if  he  "  had  guessed  it  was  to  be  sic  a 
tamn'd  Quakers'  meeting,  he  wad  hae  seen  them  peyont  the 
cairn  before  he  wad  hae  darkened  their  doors." 

And  so  much  rancour  remained  on  the  spirits  of  the  gracious 
Duncan  upon  this  occasion,  that  various  "  picqueerings, "  as 
David  called  them,  took  place  upon  the  same  and  similar 
topics ;  and  it  was  only  in  consequence  of  an  accidental  visit 
of  the  Duke  to  his  Lodge  at  Eoseneath  that  they  were  put  a 
stop  to.  But  upon  that  occasion  his  Grace  showed  such  par- 
ticular respect  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Butler,  and  such  favour  even 
to  old  David,  that  Knockdunder  held  it  prudent  to  change  his 
course  towards  the  latter.  He  in  future  used  to  express  him- 
self among  friends  concerning  the  minister  and  his  wife,  as 
"very  worthy  decent  folk,  just  a  little  over  strict  in  their  no- 
tions ;  put  it  was  pest  for  thae  plack  cattle  to  err  on  the  safe 
side. "  And  respecting  David,  he  allowed  that  "  he  was  an 
excellent  judge  of  nowte  and  sheep,  and  a  sensible  eneugh 
carle,  an  it  werenafor  his  tamn'd  Cameronian  nonsense,  whilk 
it  is  not  worth  while  of  a  shentleman  to  knock  out  of  an  auld 
silly  head,  either  by  force  of  reason  or  otherwise."  So  that, 
by  avoiding  topics  of  dispute,  the  personages  of  our  tale  lived 
in  great  good  habits  with  the  gracious  Duncan,  only  that  he 
still  grieved  David's  soul,  and  set  a  perilous  example  to  the 
congregation,  by  sometimes  bringing  his  pipe  to  the  church 
during  a  cold  winter  day,  and  almost  always  sleeping  during 
sermon  in  the  summer-time. 

Mrs.  Butler,  whom  we  must  no  longer,  if  we  can  help  it, 
term  by  the  familiar  name  of  Jeanie,  brought  into  the  married 
state  the  same  firm  mind  and  affectionate  disposition,  the  same 
natural  and  homely  good  sense,  and  spirit  of  useful  exertion — 
in  a  word,  all  the  domestic  good  qualities  of  which  she  had 
given  proof  during  her  maiden  life.  She  did  not  indeed  rival 
Butler  in  learning;  but  then  no  woman  more  devoutly  vene- 
rated the  extent  of  her  husband's  erudition.  She  did  not 
pretend  to  understand  his  expositions  of  divinity;  but  no 
minister  of  the  presbytery  had  his  humble  dinner  so  well  ar 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


531 


ranged,  his  clothes  and  linen  in  equal  good  order,  his  fireside 
so  neatly  swept,  his  parlour  so  clean,  and  his  books  so  well 
dusted. 

If  he  talked  to  Jeanie  of  what  she  did  not  understand — and 
(for  the  man  was  mortal,  and  had  been  a  schoolmaster)  he 
sometimes  did  harangue  more  scholarly  and  wisely  than  was 
necessary — she  listened  in  placid  silence ;  and  whenever  the 
point  referred  to  common  life,  and  was  such  as  came  under 
the  grasp  of  a  strong  natural  understanding,  her  views  were 
more  forcible,  and  her  observations  more  acute,  than  his  own. 
In  acquired  politeness  of  manners,  when  it  happened  that  she 
mingled  a  little  in  society,  Mrs.  Butler  was,  of  course,  judged 
deficient.  But  then  she  had  that  obvious  wish  to  oblige,  and 
that  real  and  natural  good-breeding  depending  on  good  sense 
and  good-humour,  which,  joined  to  a  considerable  degree  of 
archness  and  liveliness  of  manner,  rendered  her  behaviour 
acceptable  to  all  with  whom  she  was  called  upon  to  associate. 
Notwithstanding  her  strict  attention  to  all  domestic  affairs, 
she  always  appeared  the  clean  well-dressed  mistress  of  the 
house,  never  the  sordid  household  drudge.  When  compli- 
mented on  this  occasion  by  Duncan  Knock,  who  swore,  "  that 
he  thought  the  fairies  must  help  her,  since  her  house  was 
always  clean,  and  nobody  ever  saw  anybody  sweeping  it, "  she 
modestly  replied,  "  That  much  might  be  dune  by  timing  ane's 
turns." 

Duncan  replied :  "  He  heartily  wished  she  could  teach  that 
art  to  the  huzzies  at  the  Lodge,  for  he  could  never  discover 
that  the  house  was  washed  at  a',  except  now  and  then  by 
breaking  his  shins  over  the  pail,  Cot  tamn  the  jauds!" 

Of  lesser  matters  there  is  not  occasion  to  speak  much.  It 
may  easily  be  believed  that  the  Duke's  cheese  was  carefully 
made,  and  so  graciously  accepted  that  the  offering  became  an- 
nual. Bemembrances  and  acknowledgments  of  past  favours 
were  sent  to  Mrs.  Bickerton  and  Mrs.  Glass,  and  an  amicable 
intercourse  maintained  from  time  to  time  with  these  two  re- 
spectable and  benevolent  persons. 

It  is  especially  necessary  to  mention  that,  in  the  course  of 
five  years,  Mrs.  Butler  had  three  children,  two  boys  and  a 


532 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


girl,  all  stout  healthy  babes  of  grace,  fair-haired,  blue-eyed, 
and  strong-limbed.  The  boys  were  named  David  and  Keu- 
ben,  an  order  of  nomenclature  which  was  much  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  the  old  hero  of  the  Covenant,  and  the  girl,  by  her 
mother's  special  desire,  was  christened  Euphemia,  rather 
contrary  to  the  wish  both  of  her  father  and  husband,  who 
nevertheless  loved  Mrs.  Butler  too  well,  and  were  too  much 
indebted  to  her  for  their  hours  of  happiness,  to  withstand  any 
request  which  she  made  with  earnestness,  and  as  a  gratifica- 
tion to  herself.  But  from  some  feeling,  I  know  not  of  what 
kind,  the  child  was  never  distinguished  by  the  name  of  Erne, 
but  by  the  abbreviation  of  Femie,  which  in  Scotland  is  equally 
commonly  applied  to  persons  called  Euphemia. 

In  this  state  of  quiet  and  unostentatious  enjoyment  there 
were,  besides  the  ordinary  rubs  and  ruffles  which  disturb  even 
the  most  uniform  life,  two  things  which  particularly  chequered 
Mrs.  Butler's  happiness.  "  Without  these,"  she  said  to  our 
informer,  "  her  life  would  have  been  but  too  happy ;  and  per- 
haps," she  added,  "she  had  need  of  some  crosses  in  this  world 
to  remind  her  that  there  was  a  better  to  come  behind  it." 

The  first  of  these  related  to  certain  polemical  skirmishes  be- 
twixt her  father  and  her  husband,  which,  notwithstanding  the 
mutual  respect  and  affection  they  entertained  for  each  other, 
and  their  great  love  for  her ;  notwithstanding  also  their  general 
agreement  in  strictness,  and  even  severity,  of  Presbyterian 
principle,  often  threatened  unpleasant  weather  between  them. 
David  Deans,  as  our  readers  must  be  aware,  was  sufficiently 
opinionative  and  intractable,  and  having  prevailed  on  himself 
to  become  a  member  of  a  kirk-session  under  the  established 
church,  he  felt  doubly  obliged  to  evince  that,  in  so  doing,  he 
had  not  compromised  any  whit  of  his  former  professions,  either 
in  practice  or  principle.  Now  Mr.  Butler,  doing  all  credit  to 
his  father-in-law's  motives,  was  frequently  of  opinion  that  it 
were  better  to  drop  out  of  memory  points  of  division  and  sepa- 
ration, and  to  act  in  the  manner  most  likely  to  attract  and 
unite  all  parties  who  were  serious  in  religion.  Moreover,  he 
was  not  pleased,  as  a  man  and  a  scholar,  to  be  always  dictated 
to  by  his  unlettered  father-in-law  ;  and  as  a  clergyman  he  did 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


533 


not  think  it  fit  to  seem  for  ever  under  the  thumb  of  an  elder 
of  his  own  kirk-session.  A  proud  but  honest  thought  carried 
his  opposition  now  and  then  a  little  farther  than  it  would 
otherwise  have  gone.  "  My  brethren, "  he  said,  "  will  suppose 
I  am  flattering  and  conciliating  the  old  man  for  the  sake  of 
his  succession,  if  I  defer  and  give  way  to  him  on  every  occa- 
sion; and,  besides,  there  are  many  on  which  I  neither  can  nor 
will  conscientiously  yield  to  his  notions.  I  cannot  be  perse- 
cuting old  women  for  witches,  or  ferreting  out  matter  of  scan- 
dal among  the  young  ones,  which  might  otherwise  have  re- 
mained concealed/' 

From  this  difference  of  opinion  it  happened  that,  in  many 
cases  of  nicety,  such  as  in  owning  certain  defections,  and  fail- 
ing to  testify  against  certain  backslidings  of  the  time ;  in  not 
always  severely  tracing  forth  little  matters  of  scandal  and 
fama  clamosa,  which  David  called  a  loosening  of  the  reins  of 
discipline ;  and  in  failing  to  demand  clear  testimonies  in  other 
points  of  controversy  which  had,  as  it  were,  drifted  to  leeward 
with  the  change  of  times,  Butler  incurred  the  censure  of  his 
father-in-law;  and  sometimes  the  disputes  betwixt  them 'be- 
came eager  and  almost  unfriendly.  In  all  such  cases  Mrs. 
Butler  was  a  mediating  spirit,  who  endeavoured,  by  the  alka- 
line smoothness  of  her  own  disposition,  to  neutralise  the  acidity 
of  theological  controversy.  To  the  complaints  of  both  she  lent 
an  unprejudiced  and  attentive  ear,  and  sought  always  rather 
to  excuse  than  absolutely  to  defend  the  other  party. 

She  reminded  her  father  that  Butler  had  not  "  his  experience 
of  the  auld  and  wrastling  times,  when  folk  were  gifted  wi'  a 
far  look  into  eternity,  to  make  up  for  the  oppressions  whilk 
they  suffered  here  below  in  time.  She  freely  allowed  that 
many  devout  ministers  and  professors  in  times  past  had  en- 
joyed downright  revelation,  like  the  blessed  Peden,  and  Lun- 
die,  and  Cameron,  and  Eenwicfc,  and  John  Caird  the  tinkler, 
wha  entered  into  the  secrets;  and  Elizabeth  Melvil,  Lady 
Culross,  wha  prayed  in  her  bed,  surrounded  by  a  great  many 
Christians  in  a  large  room,  in  whilk  it  was  placed  on  pur- 
pose, and  that  for  three  hours'  time,  with  wonderful  assistance ; 
and  Lady  Robertland,  whilk  got  six  sure  outgates  of  grace; 


534 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  mony  other  in  times  past ;  and  of  a  specialty,  Mr.  John 
Scrimgeour,  minister  of  Kinghorn,  who,  having  a  beloved 
child  sick  to  death  of  the  crewels,  was  free  to  expostulate  with 
his  Maker  with  such  impatience  of  displeasure,  and  complain- 
ing so  bitterly,  that  at  length  it  was  said  unto  him  that  he  was 
heard  for  this  time,  but  that  he  was  requested  to  use  no  such 
boldness  in  time  coming ;  so  that,  when  he  returned,  he  found 
the  child  sitting  up  in  the  bed  hale  and  fair,  with  all  its 
wounds  closed,  and  supping  its  parritch,  whilk  babe  he  had 
left  at  the  time  of  death.  But  though  these  things  might  be 
true  in  these  needful  times,  she  contended  that  those  ministers 
who  had  not  seen  such  vouchsafed  and  especial  mercies  were 
to  seek  their  rule  in  the  records  of  ancient  times :  and  there- 
fore  Keuben  was  carefu'  both  to  search  the  Scriptures  and  the 
books  written  by  wise  and  good  men  of  old;  and  sometimes  in 
this  way  it  wad  happen  thab  twa  precious  saints  might  pu' 
sundry  wise,  like  twa  cows  riving  at  the  same  hay-band." 

To  this  David  used  to  reply,  with  a  sigh :  "  Ah,  hinny,  thou 
kenn'st  little  o't;  but  that  saam  John  Scrimgeour,  that  blew 
open  the  gates  of  Heaven  as  an  it  had  been  wi'  a  sax-pund 
cannon-ball,  used  devoutly  to  wish  that  most  part  of  books 
were  burnt,  except  the  Bible.  Keuben' s  a  gude  lad  and  a 
kind — I  have  aye  allowed  that ;  but  as  to  his  not  allowing  in- 
quiry anent  the  scandal  of  Margery  Kittlesides  and  Eory  Mac- 
Rand,  under  pretence  that  they  have  southered  sin  wi'  mar- 
riage, it's  clear  agane  the  Christian  discipline  o'  the  kirk.  And 
then  there's  Ailie  MacClure  of  Deepheugh,  that  practises  her 
abominations,  spaeing  folks'  fortunes  wi'  egg-shells,  and  mut- 
ton-banes, and  dreams  and  divinations,  whilk  is  a  scandal  to 
ony  Christian  land  to  suffer  sic  a  wretch  to  live ;  and  I'll  up- 
haud  that  in  a'  judicatures,  civil  or  ecclesiastical." 

"I  dare  say  ye  are  very  right,  father,"  was  the  general 
style  of  Jeanie's  answer;  "  but  ye  maun  come  down  to  the 
manse  to  your  dinner  the  day.  The  bits  o'  bairns,  puir 
things,  are  wearying  to  see  their  luckie-dad ;  and  Reuben  never 
sleeps  weel,  nor  I  neither,  when  you  and  he  hae  had  ony  bit 
outcast. " 

"  Nae  outcast,  Jeanie ;  God  forbid  I  suld  cast  out  wi'  thee,  \ 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


535 


or  aught  that  is  dear  to  thee!"  And  he  put  on  his  Sunday's 
coat  and  came  to  the  manse  accordingly. 

With  her  husband,  Mrs.  Butler  had  a  more  direct  concilia- 
tory process.  Reuben  had  the  utmost  respect  for  the  old 
man's  motives,  and  affection  for  his  person,  as  well  as  grati- 
tude for  his  early  friendship ;  so  that,  upon  any  such  occasion 
of  accidental  irritation,  it  was  only  necessary  to  remind  him 
with  delicacy  of  his  father-in-law's  age,  of  his  scanty  educa- 
tion, strong  prejudices,  and  family  distresses.  The  least  of 
these  considerations  always  inclined  Butler  to  measures  of  con- 
ciliation, in  so  far  as  he  could  accede  to  them  without  com- 
promising principle;  and  thus  our  simple  and  unpretending 
heroine  h^d  the  merit  of  those  peacemakers  to  whom  it  is  pro- 
nounced as  a  benediction  that  they  shall  inherit  the  earth. 

The  second  crook  in  Mrs.  Butler's  lot,  to  use  the  language  of 
her  father,  was  the  distressing  circumstance  that  she  had  never 
heard  of  her  sister's  safety,  or  of  the  circumstances  in  which 
she  found  herself,  though  betwixt  four  and  five  years  had 
elapsed  since  they  had  parted  on  the  beach  of  the  island  of 
Roseneath.  Frequent  intercourse  was  not  to  be  expected — 
not  to  be  desired,  perhaps,  in  their  relative  situations;  but 
Effie  had  promised  that,  if  she  lived  and  prospered,  her  sister 
should  hear  from  her.  She  must  then  be  no  more,  or  sunk 
into  some  abyss  of  misery,  since  she  had  never  redeemed  her 
pledge.  Her  silence  seemed  strange  and  portentous,  and 
wrung  from  Jeanie,  who  could  never  forget  the  early  years 
of  their  intimacy,  the  most  painful  anticipation  concerning 
her  fate.    At  length,  however,  the  veil  was  drawn  aside. 

One  day,  as  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder  had  called  in  at 
the  manse,  on  his  return  from  some  business  in  the  Highland 
part  of  the  parish,  and  had  been  accommodated,  according  to 
his  special  request,  with  a  mixture  of  milk,  brandy,  honey, 
and  water,  which  he  said  Mrs.  Butler  compounded  "petter 
than  ever  a  woman  in  Scotland  " — for  in  all  innocent  matters 
she  studied  the  taste  of  every  one  around  her — he  said  to  But- 
ler :  "  Py  the  py,  minister,  I  have  a  letter  here  either  for  your 
canny  pody  of  a  wife  or  you,  which  I  got  when  I  was  last  at 
Glasco;   the  postage  comes  to  fourpence,  which  you  may 


536 


WAYERLEY  NOYELS. 


either  pay  me  forthwith,  or  give  me  tooble  or  quits  in  a  hit  at 

packcammon. " 

The  playing  at  backgammon  and  draughts  had  been  a  fre- 
quent amusement  of  Mr.  Whackbairn,  Butler's  principal, 
when  at  Liberton  school.  The  minister,  therefore,  still  piqued 
himself  on  his  skill  at  both  games,  and  occasionally  practised 
them,  as  strictly  canonical,  although  David  Deans,  whose  no- 
tions of  every  kind  were  more  rigorous,  used  to  shake  his  head 
and  groan  grievously  when  he  espied  the  tables  lying  in  the 
parlour,  or  the  children  playing  with  the  dice-boxes  or  back- 
gammon men.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Butler  was  sometimes  chidden 
for  removing  these  implements  of  pastime  into  some  closet  or 
corner  out  of  sight.  "  Let  them  be  where  they  are,  J eanie, " 
would  Butler  say  upon  such  occasions;  "lam  not  conscious 
of  following  this  or  any  other  trifling  relaxation  to  the  inter- 
ruption of  my  more  serious  studies  and  still  more  serious  du- 
ties. I  will  not,  therefore,  have  it  supposed  that  I  am  indulg- 
ing by  stealth,  and  against  my  conscience,  in  an  amusement 
which,  using  it  so  little  as  I  do,  I  may  well  practise  openly, 
and  without  any  check  of  mind.  Nil  conscire  sibi,  Jeanie,  that 
is  my  motto ;  which  signifies,  my  love,  the  honest  and  open 
confidence  which  a  man  ought  to  entertain  when  he  is  acting 
openly,  and  without  any  sense  of  doing  wrong. " 

Such  being  Butler's  humour,  he  accepted  the  Captain's  de- 
fiance to  a  twopenny  hit  at  backgammon,  and  handed  the  let- 
ter to  his  wife,  observing,  "  The  post-mark  was  York,  but,  if 
it  came  from  her  friend  Mrs.  Bickerton,  she  had  considerably 
improved  her  handwriting,  which  was  uncommon  at  her  years. " 

Leaving  the  gentlemen  to  their  game,  Mrs.  Butler  went  to 
order  something  for  supper,  for  Captain  Duncan  had  proposed 
kindly  to  stay  the  night  with  them,  and  then  carelessly  broke 
open  her  letter.  It  was  not  from  Mrs.  Bickerton,  and,  after 
glancing  over  the  first  few  lines,  she'  soon  found  it  necessary 
to  retire  into  her  own  bedroom,  to  read  the  document  at 
leisure. 


» 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


537 


CHAPTER  XLVIIL 

Happy  thou  art !  then  happy  be, 

Nor  envy  me  my  lot ; 
Thy  happy  state  I  envy  thee, 

And  peaceful  cot. 

Lady  Charlotte  Campbell. 

The  letter,  which  Mrs.  Butler,  when  retired  into  her  own 
apartment,  perused  with  anxious  wonder,  was  certainly  from 
Erne,  although  it  had  no  other  signature  than  the  letter  E. ; 
and  although  the  orthography,  style,  and  penmanship  were 
very  far  superior  not  only  to  anything  which  Effie  could  pro- 
duce, who,  though  a  lively  girl,  had  been  a  remarkably  care- 
less scholar,  but  even  to  her  more  considerate  sister's  own 
powers  of  composition  and  expression.  The  manuscript  was 
a  fair  Italian  hand,  though  something  stiff  and  constrained ; 
the  spelling  and  the  diction  that  of  a  person  who  had  been 
accustomed  to  read  good  composition,  and  mix  in  good  society. 

The  tenor  of  the  letter  was  as  follows : 

"My  dearest  Sister: 

"  At  many  risks  I  venture  to  write  to  you,  to  inform  you 
that  I  am  still  alive,  and,  as  to  worldly  situation,  that  I  rank 
higher  than  I  could  expect  or  merit.  If  wealth,  and  distinc- 
tion, and  an  honourable  rank  could  make  a  woman  happy,  I 
have  them  all ;  but  you,  Jeanie,  whom  the  world  might  think 
placed  far  beneath  me  in  all  these  respects,  are  far  happier 
than  I  am.  I  have  had  means  of  hearing  of  your  welfare,  my 
dearest  Jeanie,  from  time  to  time;  I  think  I  should  have 
broken  my  heart  otherwise.  I  have  learned  with  great  pleas- 
ure of  your  increasing  family.  We  have  not  been  worthy  of 
such  a  blessing;  two  infants  have  been  successively  removed, 
and  we  are  now  childless — God's  will  be  done!  But  if  we 
had  a  child  it  would  perhaps  divert  him  from  the  gloomy 
thoughts  which  make  him  terrible  to  himself  and  others.  Yet 
do  not  let  me  frighten  you,  Jeanie ;  he  continues  to  be  kind, 
and  I  am  far  better  off  than  I  deserve.    You  will  wonder  at 


538 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


my  better  scholarship;  but  when  I  was  abroad  I  had  the  best 
teachers,  and  I  worked  hard  because  my  progress  pleased  him. 
He  is  kind,  Jeanie,  only  he  has  much  to  distress  him,  espe- 
cially when  he  looks  backward.  When  I  look  backward  myself 
I  have  always  a  ray  of  comfort ;  it  is  in  the  generous  conduct 
of  a  sister  who  forsook  me  not  when  I  was  forsaken  by  every 
one.  You  have  had  your  reward.  You  live  happy  in  the 
esteem  and  love  of  all  who  know  you,  and  I  drag  on  the  life 
of  a  miserable  impostor,  indebted  for  the  marks  of  regard  I 
receive  to  a  tissue  of  deceit  and  lies,  which  the  slightest  acci- 
dent may  unravel.  He  has  produced  me  to  his  friends,  since 
the  estate  opened  to  him,  as  the  daughter  of  a  Scotchman  of 
rank,  banished  on  account  of  the  Viscount  of  Dundee's  wars — 
that  is  our  Fr's  old  friend  Clavers,  you  know — and  he  says  I 
was  educated  in  a  Scotch  convent ;  indeed,  I  lived  in  such  a 
place  long  enough  to  enable  me  to  support  the  character.  But 
when  a  countryman  approaches  me,  and  begins  to  talk,  as  they 
all  do,  of  the  various  families  engaged  in  Dundee's  affairs,  and 
to  make  inquiries  into  my  connexions,  and  when  I  see  his  eye 
bent  on  mine  with  such  an  expression  of  agony,  my  terror 
brings  me  to  the  very  risk  of  detection.  Good-nature  and  po- 
liteness have  hitherto  saved  me,  as  they  prevented  people  from 
pressing  on  me  with  distressing  questions.  But  how  long — 
oh  how  long  will  this  be  the  case !  And  if  1  bring  this  dis- 
grace on  him,  he  will  hate  me ;  he  will  kill  me,  for  as  much 
as  he  loves  me;  he  is  as  jealous  of  his  family  honour  now  as 
ever  he  was  careless  about  it.  I  have  been  in  England  four 
months,  and  have  often  thought  of  writing  to  you ;  and  yet 
such  are  the  dangers  that  might  arise  from  an  intercepted  let- 
ter that  I  have  hitherto  forborne.  But  now  I  am  obliged  to 
run  the  risk.  Last  week  I  saw  your  great  friend,  the  D.  of 
A.  He  came  to  my  box,  and  sate  by  me ;  and  something  in 
the  play  put  him  in  mind  of  you.  Gracious  Heaven !  he  told 
over  your  whole  London  journey  to  all  who  were  in  the  box, 
but  particularly  to  the  wretched  creature  who  was  the  occasion 
of  it  all.  If  he  had  known — if  he  could  have  conceived,  be- 
side whom  he  was  sitting,  and  to  whom  the  story  was  told!  I 
suffered  with  courage,  like  an  Indian  at  the  stake,  while  they 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


539 


are  rending  his  fibres  and  boring  his  eyes,  and  while  he  smiles 
applause  at  each  well-imagined  contrivance  of  his  torturers. 
It  was  too  much  for  me  at  last,  Jeanie :  I  fainted ;  and  my 
agony  was  imputed  partly  to  the  heat  of  the  place,  and  partly 
to  my  extreme  sensibility ;  and,  hypocrite  all  over,  I  encour- 
aged both  opinions — anything  but  discovery !  Luckily  he  was 
not  there.  But  the  incident  has  led  to  more  alarms.  I  am 
obliged  to  meet  your  great  man  often;  and  he  seldom  sees 
me  without  talking  of  E.  D.  and  J.  D.,  and  R.  B.  and  D.  D., 
as  persons  in  whom  my  amiable  sensibility  is  interested.  My 
amiable  sensibility !  !  !  And  then  the  cruel  tone  of  light  in- 
difference with  which  persons  in  the  fashionable  world  speak 
together  on  the  most  affecting  subjects!  To  hear  my  guilt, 
my  folly,  my  agony,  the  foibles  and  weaknesses  of  my  friends, 
even  your  heroic  exertions,  Jeanie,  spoken  of  in  the  drolling 
style  which  is  the  present  tone  in  fashionable  life !  Scarce  all 
that  I  formerly  endured  is  equal  to  this  state  of  irritation : 
then  it  was  blows  and  stabs ;  now  it  is  pricking  to  death  with 
needles  and  pins.  He — I  mean  the  D. — goes  down  next  month 
to  spend  the  shooting-season  in  Scotland.  He  says  he  makes 
a  point  of  always  dining  one  day  at  the  manse ;  be  on  your 
guard,  and  do  not  betray  yourself,  should  he  mention  me. 
Yourself — alas!  you  have  nothing  to  betray — nothing  to 
fear;  you,  the  pure,  the  virtuous,  the  heroine  of  unstained 
faith,  unblemished  purity,  what  can  you  have  to  fear  from  the 
world  or  its  proudest  minions?  It  is  E.  whose  life  is  once 
more  in  your  hands ;  it  is  E.  whom  you  are  to  save  from  be- 
ing plucked  of  her  borrowed  plumes,  discovered,  branded, 
and  trodden  down — first  by  him,  perhaps,  who  has  raised  her 
to  this  dizzy  pinnacle.  The  inclosure  will  reach  you  twice 
a  year.  Do  not  refuse  it ;  it  is  out  of  my  own  allowance,  and 
may  be  twice  as  much  when  you  want  it.  With  you  it  may 
do  good;  with  me  it  never  can. 

"  Write  to  me  soon,  J eanie,  or  I  shall  remain  in  the  agonis- 
ing apprehension  that  this  has  fallen  into  wrong  hands.  Ad- 
dress simply  to  'L.  S.,'  under  cover  to  the  Reverend  George 
Whiter ose,  in  the  Minster  Close,  York.  He  thinks  I  corre- 
spond with  some  of  my  noble  Jacobite  relations  who  are  in 


540 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Scotland.  How  High  Church,  and  Jacobitical  zeal  would  burn 
in  his  cheeks  if  he  knew  he  was  the  agent,  not  of  Euphemia 
Setoun,  of  the  honourable  house  of  Winton,  but  of  E.  D., 
daughter  of  a  Cameronian  cow-feeder!  Jeanie,  I  can  laugh 
yet  sometimes — but  God  protect  you  from  such  mirth.  My 
father — I  mean  your  father — would  say  it  was  like  the  idle 
crackling  of  thorns ;  but  the  thorns  keep  their  poignancy,  they 
remain  unconsumed.  Farewell,  my  dearest  Jeanie.  Do  not 
show  this  even  to  Mr.  Butler,  much  less  to  any  one  else.  I 
have  every  respect  for  him ;  but  his  principles  are  over  strict, 
and  my  case  will  not  endure  severe  handling. — I  rest  your 
affectionate  sister,  E." 

In  this  long  letter  there  was  much  to  surprise  as  well  as  to 
distress  Mrs.  Butler.  That  Effie — her  sister  Effie — should  be 
mingling  freely  in  society,  and  apparently  on  not  unequal 
terms  with  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  sounded  like  something  so 
extraordinary  that  she  even  doubted  if  she  read  truly.  Nor 
was  it  less  marvellous  that,  in  the  space  of  four  years,  her 
education  should  have  made  such  progress.  Jeanie' s  humility 
readily  allowed  that  Effie  had  always,  when  she  chose  it,  been 
smarter  at  her  book  than  she  herself  was;  but  then  she  was 
very  idle,  and,  upon  the  whole,  had  made  much  less  profi- 
ciency. Love,  or  fear,  or  necessity,  however,  had  proved  an 
able  schoolmistress,  and  completely  supplied  all  her  deficien- 
cies. 

What  Jeanie  least  liked  in  the  tone  of  the  letter  was  a 
smothered  degree  of  egotism.  "  We  should  have  heard  little 
about  her, "  said  Jeanie  ta  herself,  "  but  that  she  was  feared 
the  Duke  might  come  to  learn  wha  she  was,  and  a'  about  her 
puir  friends  here;  but  Effie,  puir  thing,  aye  looks  her  ain 
way,  and  folk  that  do  that  think  mair  o?  themselves  than  of 
their  neighbours.  I  am  no  clear  about  keeping  her  siller," 
she  added,  taking  up  a  £50  note  which  had  fallen  out  of  the 
paper  to  the  floor.  "  We  hae  eneugh,  and  it  looks  unco  like 
theft-boot,  or  hush-money,  as  they  ca?  it ;  she  might  hae  been 
sure  that  I  wad  say  naething  wad  harm  her,  for  a'  the  gowd 
in  Lunnon*    And  I  maun  tell  the  minister  about  it.    I  dinna 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


541 


see  that  she  suld  be  sae  feared  for  her  ain  bonny  bargain  o'  a 
gudenian,  and  that  I  shouldna  reverence  Mr.  Butler  just  as 
much;  and  sae  I'll  e'en  tell  him  when  that  tippling  body,  the 
Captain,  has  ta'en  boat  in  the  morning.  But  I  wonder  at  my 
ain  state  of  mind,"  she  added,  turning  back,  after  she  had 
made  a  step  or  two  to  the  door  to  join  the  gentlemen ;  "  surely 
I  am  no  sic  a  fule  as  to  be  angry  that  Effie's  a  braw  lady, 
while  I  am  only  a  minister's  wife?  and  yet  I  am  as  petted  as 
a  bairn,  when  I  should  bless  God,  that  has  redeemed  her  from 
shame,  and  poverty,  and  guilt,  as  ower  likely  she  might  hae 
been  plunged  into." 

Sitting  down  upon  a  stool  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  she  folded 
her  arms  upon  her  bosom,  saying  within  herself,  "  From  this 
place  will  I  not  rise  till  I  am  in  a  better  frame  of  mind" ;  and 
so  placed,  by  dint  of  tearing  the  veil  from  the  motives  of  her 
little  temporary  spleen  against  her  sister,  she  compelled  her- 
self to  be  ashamed  of  them,  and  to  view  as  blessings  the  ad- 
vantages of  her  sister's  lot,  while  its  embarrassments  were  the 
necessary  consequences  of  errors  long  since  committed.  And 
thus  she  fairly  vanquished  the  feeling  of  pique  which  she 
naturally  enough  entertained  at  seeing  Effie,  so  long  the  object 
of  her  care  and  her  pity,  soar  suddenly  so  high  above  her  in 
life  as  to  reckon  amongst  the  chief  objects  of  her  apprehension 
the  risk  of  their  relationship  being  discovered. 

When#this  unwonted  burst  of  amour  propre  was  thoroughly 
subdued,  she  walked  down  to  the  little  parlour  where  the  gen- 
tlemen were  finishing  their  game,  and  heard  from  the  Captain 
a  confirmation  of  the  news  intimated  in  her  letter,  that  the 
Duke  of  Argyle  was  shortly  expected  at  Eoseneath. 

"He'll  find  plenty  of  moor-fowls  and  plack-cock  on  the 
moors  of  Auchingower,  and  he'll  pe  nae  doubt  for  taking  a 
late  dinner  and  a  ped  at  the  manse,  as  he  has  done  pefore 
now. " 

"  He  has  a  gude  right,  Captain, "  said  Jeanie. 

"Teil  ane  petter  to  ony  ped  in  the  kintra,"  answered  the 
Captain.  "  And  ye  had  petter  tell  your  father,  puir  body,  to 
get  his  beasts  a'  in  order,  and  put  his  tamn'd  Cameronian 
nonsense  out  o'  his  head  for  twa  or  three  days,  if  he  can  pe  so 


542 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


opliging ;  for  fan  I  speak  to  him  apout  prute  pestial,  he  an- 
swers me  out  o'  the  Pible,  whilk  is  not  using  a  shentleman 
weel?  unless  it  be  a  person  of  your  cloth,  Mr.  Putler." 

No  one  understood  better  than  Jeanie  the  merit  of  the  soft 
answer  which  turneth  away  wrath ;  and  she  only  smiled,  and 
hoped  that  his  Grace  would  find  everything  that  was  under 
her  father's  care  to  his  entire  satisfaction. 

But  the  Captain,  who  had  lost  the  whole  postage  of  the  let- 
ter at  backgammon,  was  in  the  pouting  mood  not  unusual  to 
losers,  and  which,  says  the  proverb,  must  be  allowed  to  them. 

"And,  Master  Putler,  though  you  know  I  never  meddle 
writh  the  things  of  your  kirk-sessions,  yet  I  must  pe  allowed 
to  say  that  I  will  not  pe  pleased  to  allow  Ailie  MacClure  of 
Deepheugh  to  pe  poonished  as  a  witch,  in  respect  she  only 
spaes  fortunes,  and  does  not  lame,  or  plind,  or  pedevil  any 
persons,  or  coup  cadgers'  carts,  or  ony  sort  of  mischief ;  put 
only  tells  people  good  fortunes,  as  anent  our  poats  killing  so 
many  seals  and  doug-fishes,  whilk  is  very  pleasant  to  hear." 

"  The  woman, "  said  Butler,  "  is,  I  believe,  no  witch,  but  a 
cheat ;  and  it  is  only  on  that  head  that  she  is  summoned  to  the 
kirk-session,  to  cause  her  to  desist  in  future  from  practising 
her  impostures  upon  ignorant  persons." 

"I  do  not  know,"  replied  the  gracious  Duncan,  "what  her 
practices  or  her  postures  are,  but  I  pelieve  that  if  the  poys 
take  hould  on  her  to  duck  her  in  the  clachan  purn,  it  will  be  a 
very  sorry  practice ;  and  I  pelieve,  moreover,  that  if  I  come  in 
thirdsman  among  you  at  the  kirk-sessions,  you  will  be  all  in 
a  tamn'd  pad  posture  indeed." 

Without  noticing  this  threat,  Mr.  Butler  replied,  "  That  he 
had  not  attended  to  the  risk  of  ill-usage  which  the  poor  woman 
might  undergo  at  the  hands  of  the  rabble,  and  that  he  would 
give  her  the  necessary  admonition  in  private,  instead  of  bring- 
ing her  before  the  assembled  session." 

"  This, "  Duncan  said,  "  was  speaking  like  a  reasonable  shen- 
tleman " ;  and  so  the  evening  passed  peaceably  off. 

Next  morning,  after  the  Captain  had  swallowed  his  morning 
draught  of  Athole  brose,  and  departed  in  his  coach  and  six, 
Mrs,  Butler  anew  deliberated  upon  communicating  to  her  hus- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


543 


band  her  sister's  letter.  But  she  was  deterred  by  the  recollec- 
tion that,  in  doing  so,  she  would  unveil  to  him  the  whole  of  a 
dreadful  secret,  of  which,  perhaps,  his  public  character  might 
render  him  an  unfit  depository.  Butler  already  had  reason 
to  believe  that  Effie  had  eloped  with  that  same  Robertson  who 
had  been  a  leader  in  the  Porteous  mob,  and  who  lay  under 
sentence  of  death  for  the  robbery  at  Kirkcaldy.  But  he  did 
not  know  his  identity  with  George  Staunton,  a  man  of  birth 
and  fortune,  who  had  now  apparently  reassumed  his  natural 
rank  in  society.  Jeanie  had  respected  Staunton's  own  confes- 
sion as  sacred,  and  upon  reflection  she  considered  the  letter  of 
her  sister  as  equally  so,  and  resolved  to  mention  the  contents 
to  no  one. 

On  reperusing  the  letter,  she  could  not  help  observing  the 
staggering  and  unsatisfactory  condition  of  those  who  have 
risen  to  distinction  by  undue  paths,  and  the  outworks  and  bul- 
warks of  fiction  and  falsehood  by  which  they  are  under  the 
necessity  of  surrounding  and  defending  their  precarious  ad- 
vantages. But  she  was  not  called  upon,  she  thought,  to  un- 
veil her  sister's  original  history:  it  would  restore  no  right  to 
any  one,  for  she  was  usurping  none ;  it  would  only  destroy  her 
happiness,  and  degrade  her  in  the  public  estimation.  Had 
she  been  wise,  Jeanie  thought  she  would  have  chosen  seclusion 
and  privacy,  in  place  of  public  life  and  gaiety ;  but  the  power 
of  choice  might  not  be  hers.  The  money,  she  thought,  could 
not  be  returned  without  her  seeming  haughty  and  unkind. 
She  resolved,  therefore,  upon  reconsidering  this  point,  to  em- 
ploy it  as  occasion  should  serve,  either  in  educating  her  chil- 
dren better  than  her  own  means  could  compass,  or  for  their  fu- 
ture portion.  Her  sister  had  enough,  was  strongly  bound  to 
assist  Jeanie  by  any  means  in  her  power,  and  the  arrangement 
was  so  natural  and  proper,  that  it  ought  not  to  be  declined  out 
of  fastidious  or  romantic  delicacy.  Jeanie  accordingly  wrote 
to  her  sister,  acknowledging  her  letter,  and  requesting  to  hear 
from  her  as  often  as  she  could.  In  entering  into  her  own 
little  details  of  news,  chiefly  respecting  domestic  affairs,  she 
experienced  a  singular  vacillation  of  ideas ;  for  sometimes  she 
apologised  for  mentioning  things  unworthy  the  notice  of  a  lady 


544 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  rank,  and  then  recollected  that  everything  which  concerned 
her  should  be  interesting  to  Effie.  Her  letter,  under  the  cover 
of  Mr.  Whiterose,  she  committed  to  the  post-office  at  Glas- 
gow, by  the  intervention  of  a  parishioner  who  had  business  at 
that  city. 

The  next  week  brought  the  Duke  to  Eoseneath,  and  shortly 
afterwards  he  intimated  his  intention  of  sporting  in  their 
neighbourhood,  and  taking  his  bed  at  the  manse;  an  honour 
which  he  had  once  or  twice  done  to  its  inmates  on  former  oc- 
casions. 

Effie  proved  to  be  perfectly  right  in  her  anticipations.  The 
Duke  had  hardly  set  himself  down  at  Mrs.  Butler's  right  hand, 
and  taken  upon  himself  the  task  of  carving  the  excellent  "  barn- 
door chucky, "  which  had  been  selected  as  the  high  dish  upon 
this  honourable  occasion,  before  he  began  to  speak  of  Lady 
Staunton  of  Willingham,  in  Lincolnshire,  and  the  great  noise 
which  her  wit  and  beauty  made  in  London.  For  much  of  this 
Jeanie  was,  in  some  measure,  prepared;  but  Effie' s  wit!  that 
would  never  have  entered  into  her  imagination,  being  igno- 
rant how  exactly  raillery  in  the  higher  rank  resembles  flippancy 
among  their  inferiors. 

"  She  has  been  the  ruling  belle — the  blazing  star — the  uni* 
versal  toast  of  the  winter, "  said  the  Duke ;  "  and  is  really 
the  most  beautiful  creature  that  was  seen  at  court  upon  the 
birthday." 

The  birthday !  and  at  court !  Jeanie  was  annihilated,  re- 
membering well  her  own  presentation,  all  its  extraordinary 
circumstances,  and  particularly  the  cause  of  it. 

"  I  mention  this  lady  particularly  to  you,  Mrs.  Butler, "  said 
the  Duke,  "  because  she  has  something  in  the  sound  of  her 
voice  and  cast  of  her  countenance  that  reminded  me  of  you: 
not  when  you  look  so  pale  though;  you  have  over-fatigued, 
yourself ;  you  must  pledge  me  in  a  glass  of  wine. " 

She  did  so,  and  Butler  observed :  "  It  was  dangerous  flattery 
in  his  Grace  to  tell  a  poor  minister's  wife  that  she  was  like  a 
court-beauty. " 

"  Oho!  Mr.  Butler,"  said  the  Duke,  "  I  find  you  are  growing 
jealous;  but  it's  rather  too  late  in  the  day,  for  you  know  how 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


545 


long  I  have  admired  your  wife.  But  seriously,  there  is  be- 
twixt them  one  of  those  inexplicable  likenesses  which  we  see 
in  countenances  that  do  not  otherwise  resemble  each  other. 99 

"  The  perilous  part  of  the  compliment  has  flown  off, "  thought 
Mr.  Butler. 

His  wife,  feeling  the  awkwardness  of  silence,  forced  herself 
to  say :  "  That  perhaps  the  lady  might  be  her  countrywoman, 
and  the  language  might  make  some  resemblance." 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  replied  the  Duke.  "  She  is  a  Scotch- 
woman, and  speaks  with  a  Scotch  accent,  and  now  and  then  a 
provincial  word  drops  out  so  prettily  that  it  is  quite  Doric, 
Mr.  Butler." 

"  I  should  have  thought, 99  said  the  clergyman,  "  that  would 
have  sounded  vulgar  in  the  great  city." 

"  Not  at  all, "  replied  the  Duke ;  "  you  must  suppose  it  is 
not  the  broad  coarse  Scotch  that  is  spoken  in  the  Cowgate  of 
Edinburgh,  or  in  the  Gorbals.  This  lady  has  been  very  little 
in  Scotland,  in  fact.  She  was  educated  in  a  convent  abroad, 
and  speaks  that  pure  court- Scotch  which  was  common  in  my 
younger  days;  but  it  is  so  generally  disused  now,  that  it 
sounds  like  a  different  dialect,  entirely  distinct  from  our 
modern  patois. 99 

Notwithstanding  her  anxiety,  Jeanie  could  not  help  admir- 
ing within  herself,  how  the  most  correct  judges  of  life  and 
manners  can  be  imposed  on  by  their  own  preconceptions, 
while  the  Duke  proceeded  thus :  "  She  is  of  the  unfortunate 
house  of  Winton,  I  believe ;  but,  being  bred  abroad,  she  had 
missed  the  opportunity  of  learning  her  own  pedigree,  and  was 
obliged  to  me  for  informing  her  that  she  must  certainly  come 
of  the  Setouns  of  Windygoul.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
how  prettily  she  blushed  at  her  own  ignorance.  Amidst  her 
noble  and  elegant  manners,  there  is  now  and  then  a  little 
touch  of  bashfulness  and  conventual  rusticity,  if  I  may  call  it 
so,  that  makes  her  quite  enchanting.  You  see  at  once  the 
rose  that  had  bloomed  untouched  amid  the  chaste  precincts  of 
the  cloister,  Mr.  Butler." 

True  to  the  hint,  Mr.  Butler  failed  not  to  start  with  his 
"  Ut  flos  in  septis  secretus  nascitur  hortis etc. : 

35 


646 


WAVEKLEY  NOVELS. 


while  his  wife  could  hardly  persuade  herself  that  all  this  was 
spoken  of  Effie  Deans,  and  by  so  competent  a  judge  as  the 
Duke  of  Argyle ;  and  had  she  been  acquainted  with  Catullus, 
would  have  thought  the  fortunes  of  her  sister  had  reversed  the 
whole  passage. 

She  was,  however,  determined  to  obtain  some  indemnification 
for  the  anxious  feelings  of  the  moment,  by  gaining  all  the  in- 
telligence she  could;  and  therefore  ventured  to  make  some  in- 
quiry about  the  husband  of  the  lady  his  Grace  admired  so 
much. 

"  He  is  very  rich, "  replied  the  Duke ;  "  of  an  ancient  family, 
and  has  good  manners ;  but  he  is  far  from  being  such  a  general 
favourite  as  his  wife.  Some  people  say  he  can  be  very  pleas- 
ant. I  never  saw  him  so ;  but  should  rather  judge  him  re- 
served, and  gloomy,  and  capricious.  He  was  very  wild  in  his 
youth,  they  say,  and  has  bad  health ;  yet  he  is  a  good-looking 
man  enough — a  great  friend  of  your  Lord  High  Commissioner 
of  the  Kirk,  Mr.  Butler." 

"  Then  he  is  the  friend  of  a  very  worthy  and  honourable 
nobleman,"  said  Butler. 

"  Does  he  admire  his  lady  as  much  as  other  people  do?"  said 
Jeanie,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Who — Sir  George?  They  say  he  is  very  fond  of  her," 
said  the  Duke ;  "  but  I  observe  she  trembles  a  little  when  he 
fixes  his  eye  on  her,  and  that  is  no  good  sign.  But  it  is 
strange  how  I  am  haunted  by  this  resemblance  of  yours  to 
Lady  Staunton,  in  look  and  tone  of  voice.  One  would  almost 
swear  you  were  sisters." 

Jeanie' s  distress  became  uncontrollable,  and  beyond  con- 
cealment. The  Duke  of  Argyle  was  much  disturbed,  good- 
naturedly  ascribing  it  to  his  having  unwittingly  recalled  to 
her  remembrance  her  family  misfortunes.  He  was  too  well- 
bred  to  attempt  to  apologise ;  but  hastened  to  change  the  sub- 
ject, and  arrange  certain  points  of  dispute  which  had  occurred 
betwixt  Duncan  of  Knock  and  the  minister,  acknowledging 
that  his  worthy  substitute  was  sometimes  a  little  too  obstinate, 
as  well  as  too  energetic,  in  his  executive  measures. 

Mr.  Butler  admitted  his  general  merits;  but  said:  "He 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  547 


would  presume  to  apply  to  the  worthy  gentleman  the  words  of 
the  poet  to  Marrucinus  Asinius, 

Manu  .  .  . 

Non  belle  uteris  in  joco  atque  vino." 

The  discourse  being  thus  turned  on  parish  business^  nothing 
farther  occurred  that  can  interest  the  reader. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

Upon  my  head  they  placed  a  fruitless  crown, 
And  put  a  barren  sceptre  in  my  gripe, 
Thence  to  be  wrench 'd  by  an  unlineal  hand, 
No  son  of  mine  succeeding. 

Macbeth. 

After  this  period,  but  under  the  most  strict  precautions 
against  discovery,  the  sisters  corresponded  occasionally,  ex- 
changing letters  about  twice  every  year.  Those  of  Lady 
Staunton  spoke  of  her  husband's  health  and  spirits  as  being 
deplorably  uncertain ;  her  own  seemed  also  to  be  sinking,  and 
one  of  the  topics  on  which  she  most  frequently  dwelt  was 
their  want  of  family.  Sir  George  Staunton,  always  violent, 
had  taken  some  aversion  at  the  next  heir,  whom  he  suspected 
of  having  irritated  his  friends  against  him  during  his  absence ; 
and  he  declared,  he  would  bequeath  Willingham  and  all  its 
lands  to  an  hospital,  ere  that  fetch-and-carry  tell-tale  should 
inherit  an  acre  of  it. 

"  Had  he  but  a  child, "  said  the  unfortunate  wife,  "  or  had 
that  luckless  infant  survived,  it  would  be  some  motive  for  liv- 
ing and  for  exertion.  But  Heaven  has  denied  us  a  blessing 
which  we  have  not  deserved. " 

Such  complaints,  in  varied  form,  but  turning  frequently  on 
the  same  topic,  filled  the  letters  which  passed  from  the  spa- 
cious but  melancholy  halls  of  Willingham  to  the  quiet  and 
happy  parsonage  at  Knocktarlitie.  Years  meanwhile  rolled 
on  amid  these  fruitless  repinings.  John  Duke  of  Argyle  and 
Greenwich  died  in  the  year  1743,  universally  lamented,  but 
by  none  more  than  by  the  Butlers,  to  whom  his  benevolence 


548 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


had  been  so  distinguished.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  brother 
Duke  Archibald,  with  whom  they  had  not  the  same  intimacy; 
but  who  continued  the  protection  which  his  brother  had  ex- 
tended towards  them.  This,  indeed,  became  more  necessary 
than  ever ;  for,  after  the  breaking  out  and  suppression  of  the 
rebellion  in  1745,  the  peace  of  the  country  adjacent  to  the 
Highlands  was  considerably  disturbed.  Marauders,  or  men 
that  had  been  driven  to  that  desperate  mode  of  life,  quartered 
themselves  in  the  fastnesses  nearest  to  the  Lowlands,  which 
were  their  scene  of  plunder ;  and  there  is  scarce  a  glen  in  the 
romantic  and  now  peaceable  Highlands  of  Perth,  Stirling,  and 
Dunbartonshire  where  one  or  more  did  not  take  up  their  resi- 
dence. 

The  prime  pest  of  the  parish  of  Knocktarlitie  was  a  certain 
Donacha  Dhu  na  Dunaigh,  or  Black  Duncan  the  Mischievous, 
whom  we  have  already  casually  mentioned.  This  fellow  had 
been  originally  a  tinker  or  "  caird,"  many  of  whom  stroll  about 
these  districts ;  but  when  all  police  was  disorganised  by  the 
civil  war,  he  threw  up  his  profession,  and  from  half  thief  be- 
came whole  robber ;  and  being  generally  at  the  head  of  three 
or  four  active  young  fellows,  and  he  himself  artful,  bold,  and 
well  acquainted  with  the  passes,  he  plied  his  new  profession 
with  emolument  to  himself  and  infinite  plague  to  the  country. 

All  were  convinced  that  Duncan  of  Knock  could  have  put 
down  his  namesake  Donacha  any  morning  he  had  a  mind ;  for 
there  were  in  the  parish  a  set  of  stout  young  men  who  had 
joined  Argyle's  banner  in  the  war  under  his  old  friend,  and 
behaved  very  well  upon  several  occasions.  And  as  for  their 
leader,  as  no  one  doubted  his  courage,  it  was  generally  sup- 
posed that  Donacha  had  found  out  the  mode  of  conciliating 
his  favour,  a  thing  not  very  uncommon  in  that  age  and  country. 
This  was  the  more  readily  believed,  as  David  Deans' s  cattle, 
being  the  property  of  the  Duke,  wrere  left  untouched,  when 
the  minister's  cows  were  carried  off  by  the  thieves.  Another 
attempt  was  made  to  renew  the  same  act  of  rapine,  and  the 
cattle  were  in  the  act  of  being  driven  off,  when  Butler,  lay- 
ing his  profession  aside  in  a  case  of  such  necessity,  put  him- 
self at  the  head  of  some  of  his  neighbours,  and  rescued  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


549 


creagh;  an  exploit  at  which  Deans  attended  in  person,  not- 
withstanding his  extreme  old  age,  mounted  on  a  Highland 
pony,  and  girded  with  an  old  broadsword,  likening  himself 
(for  he  failed  not  to  arrogate  the  whole  merit  of  the  expedi- 
tion) to  David  the  son  of  Jesse,  when  he  recovered  the  spoil 
of  Ziklag  from  the  Amalekites.  This  spirited  behaviour  had 
so  far  a  good  effect,  that  Donacha  Dhu  na  Dunaigh  kept  his 
distance  for  some  time  to  come ;  and,  though  his  distant  ex- 
ploits were  frequently  spoken  of,  he  did  not  exercise  any  dep- 
redations in  that  part  of  the  country.  He  continued  to  flour- 
ish, and  to  be  heard  of  occasionally,  until  the  year  1751,  when, 
if  the  fear  of  the  second  David  had  kept  him  in  check,  fate 
released  him  from  that  restraint,  for  the  venerable  patriarch  of 
St.  Leonard's  was  that  year  gathered  to  his  fathers. 

David  Deans  died  full  of  years  and  of  honour.  He  is  be- 
lieved, for  the  exact  time  of  his  birth  is  not  known,  to  have 
lived  upwards  of  ninety  years ;  for  he  used  to  speak  of  events 
as  falling  under  his  own  knowledge  which  happened  about  the 
time  of  the  battle  of  Bothwell  Bridge.  It  was  said  that  he 
even  bore  arms  there,  for  once,  when  a  drunken  Jacobite  laird 
wished  for  a  Bothwell  Brig  Whig,  that  "  he  might  stow  the 
lugs  out  of  his  head,"  David  informed  him  with  a  peculiar 
austerity  of  countenance  that,  if  he  liked  to  try  such  a  prank, 
there  was  one  at  his  elbow ;  and  it  required  the  interference  of 
Butler  to  preserve  the  peace. 

He  expired  in  the  arms  of  his  beloved  daughter,  thankful 
for  all  the  blessings  which  Providence  had  vouchsafed  to  him 
while  in  this  valley  of  strife  and  toil,  and  thankful  also  for  the 
trials  he  had  been  visited  with ;  having  found  them,  he  said, 
needful  to  mortify  that  spiritual  pride  and  confidence  in  his 
own  gifts  which  was  the  side  on  which  the  wily  Enemy  did 
most  sorely  beset  him.  He  prayed  in  the  most  affecting  man- 
ner for  Jeanie,  her  husband,  and  her  family,  and  that  her  affec- 
tionate duty  to  "  the  puir  auld  man"  might  purchase  her  length 
of  days  here  and  happiness  hereafter ;  then  in  a  pathetic  pe- 
tition, too  well  understood  by  those  who  knew  his  family  cir- 
cumstances, he  besought  the  Shepherd  of  souls,  while  gathering 
His  flock,  not  to  forget  the  little  one  that  had  strayed  from  the 


550 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


fold,  and  even  then  might  be  in  the  hands  of  the  ravening 
wolf.  He  prayed  for  the  national  Jerusalem,  that  peace  might 
be  in  her  land  and  prosperity  in  her  palaces  ;  for  the  welfare 
of  the  honourable  house  of  Argyle,  and  for  the  conversion  of 
Duncan  of  Knockdunder.  After  this  he  was  silent,  being  ex- 
hausted, nor  did  he  again  utter  anything  distinctly.  He  was 
heard,  indeed,  to  mutter  something  about  national  defections, 
right-hand  extremes,  and  left-hand  fallings  off ;  but,  as  May 
Hettly  observed,  his  head  was  "  carried"  at  the  time ;  and  it 
is  probable  that  these  expressions  occurred  to  him  merely  out 
of  general  habit,  and  that  he  died  in  the  full  spirit  of  charity 
with  all  men.    About  an  hour  afterwards  he  slept  in  the  Lord. 

Notwithstanding  her  father's  advanced  age,  his  death  was 
a  severe  shock  to  Mrs.  Butler.  Much  of  her  time  had  been 
dedicated  to  attending  to  his  health  and  his  wishes,  and  she 
felt  as  if  part  of  her  business  in  the  world  was  ended  when 
the  good  old  man  was  no  more.  His  wealth,  which  came 
nearly  to  £1500,  in  disposable  capital,  served  to  raise  the  for- 
tunes of  the  family  at  the  manse.  How  to  dispose  of  this  sum 
for  the  best  advantage  of  his  family  was  matter  of  anxious  con- 
sideration to  Butler. 

"  If  we  put  it  on  heritable  bond,  we  shall  maybe  lose  the 
interest;  for  there's  that  bond  over  Lounsbeck's  land,  your 
father  could  neither  get  principal  nor  interest  for  it.  If  we 
bring  it  into  the  funds,  we  shall  maybe  lose  the  principal  and 
all,  as  many  did  in  the  South  Sea  scheme.  The  little  estate 
of  Craigsture  is  in  the  market ;  it  lies  within  two  miles  of  the 
manse,  and  Knock  says  his  Grace  has  no  thought  to  buy  it. 
But  they  ask  £2500,  and  they  may,  for  it  is  worth  the  money ; 
and  were  I  to  borrow  the  balance,  the  creditor  might  call  it 
up  suddenly,  or  in  case  of  my  death  my  family  might  be  dis- 
tressed." 

"  And  so,  if  we  had  mair  siller,  we  might  buy  that  bonny 
pasture-ground,  where  the  grass  comes  so  early?"  asked 
Jeanie. 

" Certainly,  my  dear;  and  Knockdunder,  who  is  a  good 
judge,  is  strongly  advising  me  to  it.  To  be  sure,  it  is  his 
nephew  that  is  selling  it." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


551 


"Aweel,  Reuben,"  said  Jeanie,  "  ye  maun  just  look  up  a 
text  in  Scripture,  as  ye  did  when  ye  wanted  siller  before. 
Just  look  up  a  text  in  the  Bible.  * 

"  Ah,  Jeanie, "  said  Butler,  laughing  and  pressing  her  hand 
at  the  same  time,  "  the  best  people  in  these  times  can  only 
work  miracles  once. " 

"  We  will  see,"  said  Jeanie,  composedly;  and  going  to  the 
closet  in  which  she  kept  her  honey,  her  sugar,  her  pots  of  jelly, 
her  vials  of  the  more  ordinary  medicines,  and  which  served 
her,  in  short,  as  a  sort  of  store-room,  she  jangled  vials  and 
gallipots,  till,  from  out  the  darkest  nook,  well  flanked  by 
a  triple  row  of  bottles  and  jars,  which  she  was  under  the  ne- 
cessity of  displacing,  she  brought  a  cracked  brown  can,  with 
a  piece  of  leather  tied  over  the  top.  Its  contents  seemed  to 
be  written  papers,  thrust  in  disorder  into  this  uncommon 
secretaire.  But  from  among  these  Jeanie  brought  an  old 
clasped  Bible,  which  had  been  David  Deans 's  companion  in 
his  earlier  wanderings,  and  which  he  had  given  to  his  daugh- 
ter when  the  failure  of  his  eyes  had  compelled  him  to  use  one 
of  a  larger  print.  This  she  gave  to  Butler,  who  had  been 
looking  at  her  motions  with  some  surprise,  and  desired  him 
to  see  what  that  book  could  do  for  him.  He  opened  the  clasps, 
and  to  his  astonishment  a  parcel  of  £50  bank-notes  dropped 
out  from  betwixt  the  leaves,  where  they  had  been  separately 
lodged,  and  fluttered  upon  the  floor.  "  I  didna  think  to  hae 
tauld  you  o'  my  wealth,  Reuben,"  said  his  wife,  smiling  at 
his  surprise,  "  till  on  my  deathbed,  or  maybe  on  some  family 
pinch;  but  it  wad  be  better  laid  out  on  yon  bonny  grass-holms, 
than  lying  useless  here  in  this  auld  pigg. " 

"How  on  earth  came  ye  by  that  siller,  Jeanie?  Why,  here 
is  more  than  a  thousand  pounds, "  said  Butler,  lifting  up  and 
counting  the  notes. 

"If  it  were  ten  thousand,  it's  a'  honestly  come  by,"  said 
Jeanie;  "and  troth  I  kenna  how  muckle  there  is  o't,  but  it's 
a'  there  that  ever  I  got.  And  as  for  how  I  came  by  it,  Reuben 
— it's  weel  come  by,  and  honestly,  as  I  said  before.  And 
it's  mair  folks'  secret  than  mine,  or  ye  wad  hae  kenn'd 
about  it  lang  syne ;  and  as  for  ony  thing  else,  I  am  not  free 


552 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


to  answer  mair  questions  about  it,  and  ye  maun  just  ask  me 
nane." 

"  Answer  me  but  one, "  said  Butler.  "  Is  it  all  freely  and 
indisputably  your  own  property,  to  dispose  of  it  as  you  think 
fit?  Is  it  possible  no  one  has  a  claim  in  so  large  a  sum  ex- 
cept you?" 

"  It  was  mine,  free  to  dispose  of  it  as  I  like, "  answered 
Jeanie ;  "  and  I  have  disposed  of  it  already,  for  now  it  is  yours, 
Eeuben.  You  are  Bible  Butler  now,  as  weel  as  your  forbear, 
that  my  puir  father  had  sic  an  ill-will  at.  Only,  if  ye  like,  I 
wad  wish  Femie  to  get  a  gude  share  o't  when  we  are  gane." 

"  Certainly,  it  shall  be  as  you  choose.  But  who  on  earth 
ever  pitched  on  such  a  hiding-place  for  temporal  treasures?" 

"  That  is  just  ane  o?  my  auld-fashioned  gates,  as  you  ca? 
them,  Eeuben.  I  thought,  if  Donacha  Dhu  was  to  make  an 
outbreak  upon  us,  the  Bible  was  the  last  thing  in  the  house  he 
wad  meddle  wi\  But  an  ony  mair  siller  should  drap  in,  as 
it  is  not  unlikely,  I  shall  e'en  pay  it  ower  to  you,  and  ye  may 
lay  it  out  your  ain  way." 

"  And  I  positively  must  not  ask  you  how  you  have  come  by 
all  this  money?"  said  the  clergyman. 

"  Indeed,  Eeuben,  you  must  not ;  for  if  you  were  asking 
me  very  sair  I  wad  tell  you,  and  then  I  am  sure  I  would  do 
wrong. " 

"  But  tell  me, "  said  Butler,  "  is  it  anything  that  distresses 
your  own  mind?" 

"  There  is  baith  weal  and  woe  come  aye  wi'  warld's  gear, 
Eeuben ;  but  ye  maun  ask  me  naething  mair.  This  siller  binds 
me  to  naething,  and  can  never  be  speered  back  again." 

"  Surely, "  said  Mr.  Butler,  when  he  had  again  counted  over 
the  money,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  the  notes  were  real, 
"  there  was  never  man  in  the  world  had  a  wife  like  mine :  a 
blessing  seems  to  follow  her." 

"Never,"  said  Jeanie,  "since  the  enchanted  princess  in  the 
bairns'  fairy  tale,  that  kamed  gold  nobles  out  o'  the  tae  side  of 
her  haffit  locks  and  Dutch  dollars  outo'  the  tother.  But  gang 
away  now,  minister,  and  put  by  the  siller,  and  dinna  keep  the 
notes  wampishing  in  your  hand  that  gate,  or  I  shall  wish  them 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  553 

in  the  brown  pigg  again,  for  fear  we  get  a  back-cast  about 
them:  we're  ower  near  the  hills  in  these  times  to  be  thought 
to  hae  siller  in  the  house.  And  besides,  ye  maun  gree  wi? 
Knockdunder,  that  has  the  selling  o?  the  lands;  and  dinna 
you  be  simple  and  let  him  ken  o'  this  windfa',  but  keep  him 
to  the  very  lowest  penny,  as  if  ye  had  to  borrow  siller  to  make 
the  price  up." 

In  the  last  admonition  Jeanie  showed  distinctly  that,  al- 
though she  did  not  understand  how  to  secure  the  money  which 
came  into  her  hands  otherwise  than  by  saving  and  hoarding 
it,  yet  she  had  some  part  of  her  father  David's  shrewdness, 
even  upon  worldly  subjects.  And  Eeuben  Butler  was  a  pru- 
dent man,  and  went  and  did  even  as  his  wife  had  advised  him. 

The  news  quickly  went  abroad  into  the  parish  that  the  min- 
ister had  bought  Craigsture;  and  some  wished  him  joy,  and 
some  "were  sorry  it  had  gane  out  of  the  auld  name."  How- 
ever, his  clerical  brethren,  understanding  that  he  was  under 
the  necessity  of  going  to  Edinburgh  about  the  ensuing  Whit- 
sunday, to  get  together  David  Deans ?s  cash  to  make  up  the 
purchase-money  of  his  new  acquisition,  took  the  opportunity 
to  name  him  their  delegate  to  the  General  Assembly  or  Con- 
vocation of  the  Scottish  Church,  which  takes  place  usually  in 
the  latter  end  of  the  month  of  May. 


CHAPTEK  L. 

But  who  is  this  ?  what  thing  of  sea  or  land — 

Female  of  sex  it  seems — 

That  so  bedeck'd,  ornate,  and  gay, 

Comes  this  way  sailing  ? 

Milton. 

Not  long  after  the  incident  of  the  Bible  and  the  bank-notes, 
Fortune  showed  that  she  could  surprise  Mrs.  Butler  as  well  as 
her  husband.  The  minister,  in  order  to  accomplish  the  vari- 
ous pieces  of  business  which  his  unwonted  visit  to  Edinburgh 
rendered  necessary,  had  been  under  the  necessity  of  setting 
out  from  home  in  the  latter  end  of  the  month  of  February, 


554 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


concluding  justly  that  he  would  find  the  space  betwixt  his 
departure  and  the  term  of  Whitsunday  (24th  May)  short 
enough  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  forward  those  various 
debtors  of  old  David  Deans  out  of  whose  purses  a  consider- 
able part  of  the  price  of  his  new  purchase  was  to  be  made 
good. 

Jeanie  was  thus  in  the  unwonted  situation  of  inhabiting  a 
lonely  house,  and  she  felt  yet  more  solitary  from  the  death  of 
the  good  old  man,  who  used  to  divide  her  cares  with  her  hus- 
band. Her  children  were  her  principal  resource,  and  to  them 
she  paid  constant  attention. 

It  happened,  a  day  or  two  after  Butler's  departure,  that, 
while  she  was  engaged  in  some  domestic  duties,  she  heard  a 
dispute  among  the  young  folk,  which,  being  maintained  with 
obstinacy,  appeared  to  call  for  her  interference.  All  came  to 
their  natural  umpire  with  their  complaints.  Femie,  not  yet 
ten  years  old,  charged  Davie  and  Eeubie  with  an  attempt  to 
take  away  her  book  by  force ;  and  David  and  Reuben  replied 
— the  elder,  "  That  it  was  not  a  book  for  Femie  to  read,"  and 
Reuben,  "  That  it  was  about  a  bad  woman." 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  book,  ye  little  hempie?"  said  Mrs. 
Butler.    "  How  dare  ye  touch  papa's  books  when  he  is  away?" 

But  the  little  lady,  holding  fast  a  sheet  of  crumpled  paper, 
declared:  "It  was  nane  o'  papa's  books,  and  May  Hettly  had 
taken  it  off  the  muckle  cheese  which  came  from  Inverara" ;  for, 
as  was  very  natural  to  suppose,  a  friendly  intercourse,  with 
interchange  of  mutual  civilities,  was  kept  up  from  time  to 
time  between  Mrs.  Dolly  Dutton,  now  Mrs.  MacCorkindale, 
and  her  former  friends. 

Jeanie  took  the  subject  of  contention  out  of  the  child's 
hand,  to  satisfy  herself  of  the  propriety  of  her  studies ;  but 
how  much  was  she  struck  when  she  read  upon  the  title  of  the 
broadside  sheet:  "The  Last  Speech,  Confession,  and  Dying 
Words  of  Margaret  MacCraw,  or  Murdockson,  executed  on 

Harabee  Hill,  near  Carlisle,  the  —  day  of  ,  1737."  It 

was,  indeed,  one  of  those  papers  which  Archibald  had  bought 
at  Longtown,  when  he  monopolised  the  pedlar's  stock,  which 
Dolly  had  thrust  into  her  trunk  out  of  sheer  economy.  One 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


555 


or  two  copies,  it  seems,  had  remained  in  her  repositories  at 
Inverary,  till  she  chanced  to  need  them  in  packing  a  cheese, 
which,  as  a  very  superior  production,  was  sent  in  the  way  of 
civil  challenge  to  the  dairy  at  Knocktarlitie. 

The  title  of  this  paper,  so  strangely  fallen  into  the  very 
hands  from  which,  in  well-meant  respect  to  her  feelings,  it  had 
been  so  long  detained,  was  of  itself  sufficiently  startling ;  but 
the  narrative  itself  was  so  interesting  that  Jeanie,  shaking 
herself  loose  from  the  children,  ran  upstairs  to  her  own  apart- 
ment, and  bolted  the  door,  to  peruse  it  without  interruption. 

The  narrative,  which  appeared  to  have  been  drawn  up,  or 
at  least  corrected,  by  the  clergyman  who  attended  this  un- 
happy woman,  stated  the  crime  for  which  she  suffered  to  have 
been  "  her  active  part  in  that  atrocious  robbery  and  murder, 
committed  near  two  years  since  near  Haltwhistle,  for  which 
the  notorious  Frank  Levitt  was  committed  for  trial  at  Lan- 
caster assizes.  It  was  supposed  the  evidence  of  the  accomplice, 
Thomas  Tuck,  commonly  called  Tyburn  Tom,  upon  which  the 
woman  had  been  convicted,  would  weigh  equally  heavy  against 
him ;  although  many  were  inclined  to  think  it  was  Tuck  him- 
self who  had  struck  the  fatal  blow,  according  to  the  dying 
statement  of  Meg  Murdockson. " 

After  a  circumstantial  account  of  the  crime  for  which  she 
suffered,  there  was  a  brief  sketch  of  Margaret's  life.  It  was 
stated,  that  she  was  a  Scotchwoman  by  birth,  and  married  a 
soldier  in  the  Cameronian  regiment;  that  she  long  followed 
the  camp,  and  had  doubtless  acquired  in  fields  of  battle,  and 
similar  scenes,  that  ferocity  and  love  of  plunder  for  which  she 
had  been  afterwards  distinguished ;  that  her  husband,  having 
obtained  his  discharge,  became  servant  to  a  beneficed  clergy- 
man of  high  situation  and  character  in  Lincolnshire,  and  that 
she  acquired  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  that  honourable 
family.  She  had  lost  this  many  years  after  her  husband's 
death,  it  was  stated,  in  consequence  of  conniving  at  the  ir- 
regularities of  her  daughter  with  the  heir  of  the  family,  added 
to  the  suspicious  circumstances  attending  the  birth  of  a  child, 
which  was  strongly  suspected  to  have  met  with  foul  play,  in 
order  to  preserve,  if  possible,  the  girl's  reputation.  After 


556 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


this,  she  had  led  a  wandering  life  both  in  England  and  Scot- 
land, under  colour  sometimes  of  telling  fortunes,  sometimes 
of  driving  a  trade  in  smuggled  wares,  but,  in  fact,  receiving 
stolen  goods,  and  occasionally  actively  joining  in  the  exploits 
by  which  they  were  obtained.  Many  of  her  crimes  she  had 
boasted  of  after  conviction,  and  there  was  one  circumstance 
for  which  she  seemed  to  feel  a  mixture  of  joy  and  occasional 
compunction.  When  she  was  residing  in  the  suburbs  of  Edin- 
burgh during  the  preceding  summer,  a  girl,  who  had  been  se- 
duced by  oue  of  her  confederates,  was  entrusted  to  her  charge, 
and  in  her  house  delivered  of  a  male  infant.  Her  daughter, 
whose  mind  was  in  a  state  of  derangement  ever  since  she  had 
lost  her  own  child,  according  to  the  criminal's  account,  carried 
off  the  poor  girl's  infant,  taking  it  for  her  own,  of  the  reality 
of  whose  death  she  at  times  could  not  be  persuaded. 

Margaret  Murdockson  stated  that  she  for  some  time  believed 
her  daughter  had  actually  destroyed  the  infant  in  her  mad  fits, 
and  that  she  gave  the  father  to  understand  so,  but  afterwards 
learned  that  a  female  stroller  had  got  it  from  her.  She  showed 
some  compunction  at  having  separated  mother  and  child,  es- 
pecially as  the  mother  had  nearly  suffered  death,  being  con- 
demned, on  the  Scotch  law,  for  the  supposed  murder  of  her 
infant.  When  it  was  asked  what  possible  interest  she  could 
have  had  in  exposing  the  unfortunate  girl  to  suffer  for  a  crime 
she  had  not  committed,  she  asked,  if  they  thought  she  was  going 
to  put  her  own  daughter  into  trouble  to  save  another.  She 
did  not  know  what  the  Scotch  law  would  have  done  to  her  for 
carrying  the  child  away.  This  answer  was  by  no  means  sat- 
isfactory to  the  clergyman,  and  he  discovered,  by  close  exam- 
ination, that  she  had  a  deep  and  revengeful  hatred  against  the 
young  person  whom  she  had  thus  injured.  But  the  paper  in- 
timated that,  whatever  besides  she  had  communicated  upon 
this  subject  was  confided  by  her  in  private  to  the  worthy 
and  reverend  archdeacon  who  had  bestowed  such  particular 
pains  in  affording  her  spiritual  assistance.  The  broadside 
went  on  to  intimate  that,  after  her  execution,  of  which  the 
particulars  were  given,  her  daughter,  the  insane  person  men- 
tioned more  than  once,  and  who  was  generally  known  by  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


557 


name  of  Madge  Wildfire,  had  been  very  ill  used  by  the  popu- 
lace, under  the  belief  that  she  was  a  sorceress,  and  an  accom- 
plice in  her  mother's  crimes,  and  had  been  with  difficulty 
rescued  by  the  prompt  interference  of  the  police. 

Such  (for  we  omit  moral  reflections  and  all  that  may  seem 
unnecessary  to  the  explanation  of  our  story)  was  the  tenor  of 
the  broadside.  To  Mrs.  Butler  it  contained  intelligence  of 
the  highest  importance,  since  it  seemed  to  afford  the  most  un- 
equivocal proof  of  her  sister's  innocence  respecting  the  crime 
for  which  she  had  so  nearly  suffered.  It  is  true,  neither  she, 
nor  her  husband,  nor  even  her  father,  had  ever  believed  her 
capable  of  touching  her  infant  with  an  unkind  hand  when  in 
possession  of  her  reason ;  but  there  was  a  darkness  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  what  might  have  happened  in  a  moment  of  insanity 
was  dreadful  to  think  upon.  Besides,  whatever  was  their  own 
conviction,  they  had  no  means  of  establishing  EffiVs  inno- 
cence to  the  world,  which,  according  to  the  tenor  of  this  fugi- 
tive publication,  was  now  at  length  completely  manifested  by 
the  dying  confession  of  the  person  chiefly  interested  in  con- 
cealing it. 

After  thanking  God  for  a  discovery  so  dear  so  her  feelings, 
Mrs.  Butler  began  to  consider  what  use  she  should  make  of  it. 
To  have  shown  it  to  her  husband  would  have  been  her  first 
impulse ;  but,  besides  that  he  was  absent  from  home,  and  the 
matter  too  delicate  to  be  the  subject  of  correspondence  by  an 
indifferent  penwoman,  Mrs.  Butler  recollected  that  he  was  not 
possessed  of  the  information  necessary  to  form  a  judgment  upon 
the  occasion ;  and  that,  adhering  to  the  rule  which  she  had 
considered  as  most  advisable,  she  had  best  transmit  the  infor- 
mation immediately  to  her  sister,  and  leave  her  to  adjust  with 
her  husband  the  mode  in  which  they  should  avail  themselves 
of  it.  Accordingly,  she  despatched  a  special  messenger  to 
Glasgow  with  a  packet,  inclosing  the  "  Confession"  of  Mar- 
garet Murdockson,  addressed,  as  usual,  under  cover  to  Mr. 
Whiterose  of  York.  She  expected,  with  anxiety,  an  answer; 
but  none  arrived  in  the  usual  course  of  post,  and  she  was  left 
to  imagine  how  many  various  causes  might  account  for  Lady 
Staunton's  silence.    She  began  to  be  half  sorry  that  she  had 


558 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


parted  with  the  printed  paper,  both  for  fear  of  its  having  fall- 
en into  bad  hands,  and  from  the  desire  of  regaining  the  docu- 
ment, which  might  be  essential  to  etablish  her  sister's  inno- 
cence. She  was  even  doubting  whether  she  had  not  better 
commit  the  whole  matter  to  her  husband's  consideration,  when 
other  incidents  occurred  to  divert  her  purpose. 

Jeanie  (she  is  a  favourite,  and  Ave  beg  her  pardon  for  still 
using  the  familiar  title)  had  walked  down  to  the  seaside  with 
her  children  one  morning  after  breakfast,  when  the  boys, 
whose  sight  was  more  discriminating  than  hers,  exclaimed, 
that  "the  Captain's  coach  and  six  was  coming  right  for  the 
shore,  with  ladies  in  it."  Jeanie  instinctively  bent  her  eyes 
on  the  approaching  boat,  and  became  soon  sensible  that  there 
were  two  females  in  the  stern,  seated  beside  the  gracious 
Duncan,  who  acted  as  pilot.  It  was  a  point  of  politeness  to 
walk  towards  the  landing-place,  in  order  to  receive  them, 
especially  as  she  saw  that  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder  was 
upon  honour  and  ceremony.  His  piper  was  in  the  bow  of  the 
boat,  sending  forth  music,  of  which  one  half  sounded  the 
better  that  the  other  was  drowned  by  the  waves  and  the  breeze. 
Moreover,  he  himself  had  his  brigadier  wig  newly  frizzed,  his 
bonnet  (he  had  abjured  the  cocked  hat)  decorated  with  St. 
George's  red  cross,  his  uniform  mounted  as  a  captain  of  mili- 
tia, the  Duke's  flag  with  the  boar's  head  displayed, — all  inti- 
mated parade  and  gala. 

As  Mrs.  Butler  approached  the  landing-place,  she  observed 
the  Captain  hand  the  ladies  ashore  with  marks  of  great  atten- 
tion, and  the  parties  advanced  towards  her,  the  Captain  a  few 
steps  before  the  two  ladies,  of  whom  the  taller  and  elder  leaned 
on  the  shoulder  of  the  other,  who  seemed  to  be  an  attendant 
or  servant. 

As  they  met,  Duncan,  in  his  best,  most  important,  and  deep- 
est tone  of  Highland  civility,  "  pegged  leave  to  introduce  to 
Mrs.  Putler,  Lady — eh — eh — I  hae  forgotten  your  leddy- 
ship's  name!" 

"Never  mind  my  name,  sir,"  said  the  lady;  "I  trust  Mrs. 

Butler  will  be  at  no  loss.    The  Duke's  letter  "    And,  as 

she  observed  Mrs.  Butler  look  confused,  she  said  again  to 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


559 


Duncan,  something  sharply :  "  Did  you  not  send  the  letter  last 
night,  sir?" 

"  In  troth  and  I  didna,  and  I  crave  your  leddyship 's  par- 
don ;  but  you  see,  matam,  I  thought  it  would  do  as  weel  to- 
tay,  pecause  Mrs.  Putler  is  never  taen  out  o?  sorts — never ;  and 
the  coach  was  out  fishing ;  and  the  gig  was  gane  to  Greenock 
for  a  cag  of  prandy,  and  Put  here's  his  Grace's  letter." 

"  Give  it  me,  sir,"  said  the  lady,  taking  it  out  of  his  hand; 
"  since  you  have  not  found  it  convenient  to  do  me  the  favour 
to  send  it  before  me,  I  will  deliver  it  myself." 

Mrs.  Butler  looked  with  great  attention,  and  a  certain  du- 
bious feeling  of  deep  interest,  on  the  lady  who  thus  expressed 
herself  with  authority  over  the  man  of  authority,  and  to  whose 
mandates  he  seemed  to  submit,  resigning  the  letter  with  a 
"  Just  as  your  leddyship  is  pleased  to  order  it. " 

The  lady  was  rather  above  the  middle  size,  beautifully 
made,  though  something  embonpoint,  with  a  hand  and  arm 
exquisitely  formed.  Her  manner  was  easy,  dignified,  and 
commanding,  and  seemed  to  evince  high  birth  and  the  habits 
of  elevated  society.  She  wore  a  travelling  dress,  a  grey  beaver 
hat,  and  a  veil  of  Flanders  lace.  Two  footmen,  in  rich  liv- 
eries, who  got  out  of  the  barge,  and  lifted  out  a  trunk  and 
portmanteau,  appeared  to  belong  to  her  suite. 

"  As  you  did  not  receive  the  letter,  madam,  which  should 
have  served  for  my  introduction — for  I  presume  you  are  Mrs. 
Butler — I  will  not  present  it  to  you  till  you  are  so  good  as  to 
admit  me  into  your  house  without  it. " 

"  To  pe  sure,  matam, "  said  Knockdunder,  "  ye  canna  doubt 
Mrs.  Putler  will  do  that.  Mrs.  Putler,  this  is  Lady — Lady — 
these  tamn'd  Southern  names  rin  out  o?  my  head  like  a  stane 
trowling  downhill — put  I  believe  she  is  a  Scottishwoman  porn 
— the  mair  our  credit;  and  I  presume  her  leddyship  is  of  the 
house  of  " 

"  The  Duke  of  Argyle  knows  my  family  very  well,  sir, "  said 
the  lady,  in  a  tone  which  seemed  designed  to  silence  Duncan, 
or,  at  any  rate,  which  had  that  effect  completely. 

There  was  something  about  the  whole  of  this  stranger's  ad- 
dress, and  tone,  and  manner  which  acted  upon  Jeanie's  feel- 


560 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ings  like  the  illusions  of  a  dream,  that  teaze  us  with  a  puz- 
zling approach  to  reality.  Something  there  was  of  her  sister 
in  the  gait  and  manner  of  the  stranger,  as  well  as  in  the  sound 
of  her  voice,  and  something  also,  when,  lifting  her  veil,  she 
showed  features  to  which,  changed  as  they  were  in  expres- 
sion and  complexion,  she  could  not  but  attach  many  remem- 
brances. 

The  stranger  was  turned  of  thirty  certainly ;  but  so  well 
were  her  personal  charms  assisted  by  the  power  of  dress  and 
arrangement  of  ornament,  that  she  might  well  have  passed  for 
one-and-twenty.  And  her  behaviour  was  so  steady  and  so  com- 
posed that  as  often  as  Mrs.  Butler  perceived  anew  some  point 
of  resemblance  to  her  unfortunate  sister,  so  often  the  sus- 
tained self-command  and  absolute  composure  of  the  stranger 
destroyed  the  ideas  which  began  to  arise  in  her  imagination. 
She  led  the  way  silently  towards  the  manse,  lost  in  a  confu- 
sion of  reflections,  and  trusting  the  letter  with  which  she  was 
to  be  there  entrusted  would  afford  her  satisfactory  explanation 
of  what  was  a  most  puzzling  and  embarrassing  scene. 

The  lady  maintained  in  the  mean  while  the  manners  of  a 
stranger  of  rank.  She  admired  the  various  points  of  view  like 
one  who  has  studied  nature  and  the  best  representations  of 
art.    At  length  she  took  notice  of  the  children. 

"These  are  two  fine  young  mountaineers.  Yours,  madam, 
I  presume?" 

Jeanie  replied  in  the  affirmative.  The  stranger  sighed,  and 
sighed  once  more  as  they  were  presented  to  her  by  name. 

"Come  here,  Femie,"  said  Mrs.  Butler,  "and  hold  your 
head  up." 

"What  is  your  daughter's  name,  madam?"  said  the  lady. 

"Euphemia,  madam,"  answered  Mrs.  Butler. 

"I  thought  the  ordinary  Scottish  contraction  of  the  name 
had  been  Effie, "  replied  the  stranger,  in  a  tone  which  went  to 
Jeanie' s  heart;  for  in  that  single  word  there  was  more  of  her 
sister — more  of  lang  syne  ideas — than  in  all  the  reminiscences 
which  her  own  heart  had  anticipated,  or  the  features  and  man- 
ner of  the  stranger  had  suggested. 

When  they  reached  the  manse,  the  lady  gave  Mrs.  Butler 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


561 


the  letter  which  she  had  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  Knockdun- 
der ;  and  as  she  gave  it  she  pressed  her  hand,  adding  aloud : 
"Perhaps,  madam,  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  get  me  a 
little  milk." 

"  And  me  a  drap  of  the  grey-peard,  if  you  please,  Mrs.  Put- 
ler, 99  added  Duncan. 

Mrs.  Butler  withdrew;  but,  deputing  to  May  Hettly  and 
to  David  the  supply  of  the  strangers'  wants,  she  hastened  into 
her  own  room  to  read  the  letter.  The  envelope  was  addressed 
in  the  Duke  of  Argyle's  hand,  and  requested  Mrs.  Butler's  at- 
tentions and  civility  to  a  lady  of  rank,  a  particular  friend  of  his 
late  brother,  Lady  Staunton  of  Willingham,  who,  being  rec- 
ommended to  drink  goats'  whey  by  the  physicians,  was  to  hon- 
our the  Lodge  at  Roseneath  with  her  residence,  while  her  hus- 
band made  a  short  tour  in  Scotland.  But  within  the  same 
cover,  which  had  been  given  to  Lady  Staunton  unsealed,  was 
a  letter  from  that  lady,  intended  to  prepare  her  sister  for 
meeting  her,  and  which,  but  for  the  Captain's  negligence,  she 
ought  to  have  received  on  the  preceding  evening.  It  stated 
that  the  news  in  Jeanie's  last  letter  had  been  so  interesting 
to  her  husband,  that  he  was  determined  to  inquire  farther  into 
the  confession  made  at  Carlisle,  and  the  fate  of  that  poor  in- 
nocent, and  that,  as  he  had  been  in  some  degree  successful, 
she  had,  by  the  most  earnest  entreaties,  extorted  rather  than 
obtained  his  permission,  under  promise  of  observing  the  most 
strict  incognito,  to  spend  a  week  or  two  with  her  sister,  or  in 
her  neighbourhood,  while  he  was  prosecuting  researches,  to 
which  (though  it  appeared  to  her  very  vainly)  he  seemed  to 
attach  some  hopes  of  success. 

There  was  a  postscript,  desiring  that  Jeanie  would  trust  to 
Lady  S.  the  management  of  their  intercourse,  and  be  content 
with  assenting  to  what  she  should  propose.  After  reading  and 
again  reading  the  letter,  Mrs.  Butler  hurried  downstairs,  di- 
vided betwixt  the  fear  of  betraying'her  secret  and  the  desire 
to  throw  herself  upon  her  sister's  neck.  Effie  received  her 
with  a  glance  at  once  affectionate  and  cautionary,  and  imme- 
diately proceeded  to  speak. 

"I  have  been  telling  Mr.  ,  Captain  ,  this  gentleman, 

36 


562 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Mrs.  Butler,  that  if  you  could  accommodate  me  with  an  apart- 
ment in  your  house,  and  a  place  for  Ellis  to  sleep,  and  for  the 
two  men,  it  would  suit  me  better  than  the  Lodge,  which  his 
Grace  had  so  kindly  placed  at  my  disposal.  I  am  advised  I 
should  reside  as  near  where  the  goats  feed  as  possible." 

"  I  have  peen  assuring  my  leddy,  Mrs.  Putler, 99  said  Dun- 
can, "that,  though  it  could  not  discommode  you  to  receive 
any  of  his  Grace's  visitors  or  mine,  yet  she  had  mooch  petter 
stay  at  the  Lodge;  and  for  the  gaits,  the  creatures  can  be 
fetched  there,  in  respect  it  is  mair  fitting  they  suld  wait  upon 
her  leddyship,  than  she  upon  the  like  of  them. 99 

"  By  no  means  derange  the  goats  for  me, 99  said  Lady  Staun- 
ton ;  "  I  am  certain  the  milk  must  be  much  better  here. 99  And 
this  she  said  with  languid  negligence,  as  one  whose  slightest 
intimation  of  humour  is  to  bear  down  all  argument. 

Mrs.  Butler  hastened  to  intimate  that  her  house,  such  as  it 
was,  was  heartily  at  the  disposal  of  Lady  Staunton;  but  the 
Captain  continued  to  remonstrate. 

"The  Duke,"  he  said,  "had  written  " 

"  I  will  settle  all  that  with  his  Grace  99 

"And  there  were  the  things  had  been  sent  down  frae 
Glasco  " 

"  Anything  necessary  might  be  sent  over  to  the  parsonage. 
She  would  beg  the  favour  of  Mrs.  Butler  to  show  her  an  apart- 
ment, and  of  the  Captain  to  have  her  trunks,  etc.,  sent  over 
from  Roseneath." 

So  she  courtesied  off  poor  Duncan,  who  departed,  saying  in 
his  secret  soul,  "  Cot  tamn  her  English  impudence!  She  takes 
possession  of  the  minister's  house  as  an  it  were  her  ain;  and 
speaks  to  shentlemens  as  if  they  were  pounden  servants,  an'  pe 
tamn'd  to  her!  And  there's  the  deer  that  was  shot  too;  but 
we  will  send  it  ower  to  the  manse,  whilk  will  pe  put  civil, 
seeing  I  hae  prought  worthy  Mrs.  Putler  sic  a  fliskmahoy." 
And  with  these  kind  intentions,  he  went  to  the  shore  to  give 
his  orders  accordingly. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  meeting  of  the  sisters  was  as  affec- 
tionate as  it  was  extraordinary,  and  each  evinced  her  feelings 
in  the  way  proper  to  her  character.    J eanie  was  so  much  over- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN, 


563 


come  by  wonder,  and  even  by  awe,  that  her  feelings  were  deep, 
stunning,  and  almost  overpowering.  Erne,  on  the  other  hand, 
wept,  laughed,  sobbed,  screamed,  and  clapped  her  hjands  for 
joy,  all  in  the  space  of  five  minutes,  giving  way  at  once,  and 
without  reserve,  to  a  natural  excessive  vivacity  of  temper, 
which  no  one,  however,  knew  better  how  to  restrain  under  the 
rules  of  artificial  breeding. 

After  an  hour  had  passed  like  a  moment  in  their  expressions 
of  mutual  affection,  Lady  Staunton  observed  the  Captain  walk- 
ing with  impatient  steps  below  the  window.  "  That  tiresome 
Highland  fool  has  returned  upon  our  hands, "  she  said.  "  I 
will  pray  him  to  grace  us  with  his  absence." 

"Hout  no!  hout  no!"  said  Mrs.  Butler,  in  a  tone  of  en- 
treaty; "ye  maunna  affront  the  Captain." 

"Affront!"  said  Lady  Staunton;  "nobody  is  ever  affront- 
ed at  what  I  do  or  say,  my  dear.  However,  I  will  endure  him, 
since  you  think  it  proper." 

The  Captain  was  accordingly  graciously  requested  by  Lady 
Staunton  to  remain  during  dinner.  During  this  visit  his  stu- 
dious and  punctilious  complaisance  towards  the  lady  of  rank 
was  happily  contrasted  by  the  cavalier  air  of  civil  familiarity 
in  which  he  indulged  towards  the  minister's  wife. 

"I  have  not  been  able  to  persuade  Mrs.  Butler,"  said  Lady 
Staunton  to  the  Captain,  during  the  interval  when  Jeanie  had 
left  the  parlour,  "  to  let  me  talk  of  making  any  recompense 
for  storming  her  house,  and  garrisoning  it  in  the  way  I  have 
done. " 

"Doubtless,  matam,"  said  the  Captain,  "it  wad  ill  pecome 
Mrs.  Putler,  wha  is  a  very  decent  pody,  to  make  any  such 
sharge  to  a  lady  who  comes  from  my  house,  or  his  Grace's, 
which  is  the  same  thing.  And,  speaking  of  garrisons,  in  the 
year  forty-five  I  was  poot  with  a  garrison  of  twenty  of  my 
lads  in  the  house  of  Invergarry,  whilk  had  near  been  unhap- 
pily, for — — " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  But  I  wish  I  could  think  of  some 
way  of  indemnifying  this  good  lady." 

"Oh,  no  need  of  intemnifying  at  all;  no  trouble  for 
her — nothing  at  all.    So,  peing  in  the  house  of  Invergarry, 


564 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


and  the  people  about  it  being  uncanny,  I  doubted  the  warst, 

and  " 

"Do  you  happen  to  know,  sir,"  said  Lady  Staunton,  "if 
any  of  these  two  lads — these  young  Butlers,  I  mean — show  any 
turn  for  the  army?" 

"  Could  not  say,  indeed,  my  leddy,"  replied  Knockdunder. 
"  So,  I  knowing  the  people  to  pe  unchancy,  and  not  to  lippen 
to,  and  hearing  a  pibroch  in  the  wood,  I  began  to  pid  my  lads 
look  to  their  flints,  and  then  " 

"  For, "  said  Lady  Staunton,  with  the  most  ruthless  disre- 
gard to  the  narrative  which  she  mangled  by  these  interrup- 
tions, "  if  that  should  be  the  case,  it  should  cost  Sir  George 
but  the  asking  a  pair  of  colours  for  one  of  them  at  the  War 
Office,  since  we  have  always  supported  government,  and  never 
had  occasion  to  trouble  ministers." 

"  And  if  you  please,  my  leddy, "  said  Duncan,  who  began  to 
find  some  savour  in  this  proposal,  "  as  I  hae  a  braw  weel-grown 
lad  of  a  nevoy,  ca'd  Duncan  MacGilligan,  that  is  as  pig  as 
paith  the  Putler  pairns  putten  thegither,  Sir  George  could 
ask  a  pair  for  him  at  the  same  time,  and  it  wad  pe  put  ae 
asking  for  a\" 

Lady  Staunton  only  answered  this  hint  with  a  well-bred 
stare,  which  gave  no  sort  of  encouragement. 

Jeanie,  who  now  returned,  was  lost  in  amazement  at  the 
wonderful  difference  betwixt  the  helpless  and  despairing  girl 
whom  she  had  seen  stretched  on  a  flock-bed  in  a  dungeon,  ex- 
pecting a  violent  and  disgraceful  death,  and  last  as  a  forlorn 
exile  upon  the  midnight  beach,  with  the  elegant,  well-bred, 
beautiful  woman  before  her.  The  features,  now  that  her  sis- 
ter's veil  was  laid  aside,  did  not  appear  so  extremely  different 
as  the  whole  manner,  expression,  look,  and  bearing.  In  out- 
side show,  Lady  Staunton  seemed  completely  a  creature  too 
soft  and  fair  for  sorrow  to  have  touched ;  so  much  accustomed 
to  have  all  her  whims  complied  with  by  those  around  her,  that 
she  seemed  to  expect  she  should  even  be  saved  the  trouble  of 
forming  them;  and  so  totally  unacquainted  with  contradic- 
tion, that  she  did  not  even  use  the  tone  of  self-will,  since  to 
breathe  a  wish  was  to  have  it  fulfilled.    She  made  no  cere- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN 


565 


mony  of  ridding  herself  of  Duncan  as  soon  as  the  evening 
approached;  but  complimented  him  out  of  the  house,  under 
pretext  of  fatigue,  with  the  utmost  nonchalance. 

"When  they  were  alone,  her  sister  could  not  help  expressing 
her  wonder  at  the  self-possession  with  which  Lady  Staunton 
sustained  her  part. 

"I  dare  say  you  are  surprised  at  it,"  said  Lady  Staunton, 
composedly ;  "  for  you,  my  dear  Jeanie,  have  been  truth  itself 
from  your  cradle  upwards ;  but  you  must  remember  that  I  am 
a  liar  of  fifteen  years'  standing,  and  therefore  must  by  this 
time  be  used  to  my  character." 

In  fact,  during  the  feverish  tumult  of  feelings  excited  dur- 
ing the  two  or  three  first  days,  Mrs.  Butler  thought  her  sis- 
ter's manner  was  completely  contradictory  of  the  desponding 
tone  which  pervaded  her  correspondence.  She  was  moved  to 
tears,  indeed,  by  the  sight  of  her  father's  grave,  marked  by  a 
modest  stone,  recording  his  piety  and  integrity;  but  lighter 
impressions  and  associations  had  also  power  over  her.  She 
amused  herself  with  visiting  the  dairy,  in  which  she  had  so 
long  been  assistant,  and  was  so  near  discovering  herself  to 
May  Hettly,  by  betraying  her  acquaintance  with  the  cele- 
brated receipt  for  Dunlop  cheese,  that  she  compared  herself 
to  Bedreddin  Hassan,  whom  the  vizier,  his  father-in-law,  dis- 
covered by  his  superlative  skill  in  composing  cream-tarts  with 
pepper  in  them.  But  when  the  novelty  of  such  avocations 
ceased  to  amuse  her,  she  showed  to  her  sister  but  too  plainly 
that  the  gaudy  colouring  with  which  she  veiled  her  unhappi- 
ness  afforded  as  little  real  comfort  as  the  gay  uniform  of  the 
soldier  when  it  is  drawn  over  his  mortal  wound.  There 
were  moods  and  moments  in  which  her  despondence  seemed 
to  exceed  even  that  which  she  herself  had  described  in  her  let- 
ters, and  which  too  well  convinced  Mrs.  Butler  how  little  her 
sister's  lot,  which  in  appearance  was  so  brilliant,  was  in  real- 
ity to  be  envied. 

There  was  one  source,  however,  from  which  Lady  Staunton 
derived  a  pure  degree  of  pleasure.  Gifted  in  every  particular 
with  a  higher  degree  of  imagination  than  that  of  her  sister,  she 
was  an  admirer  of  the  beauties  of  nature,  a  taste  which  com- 


666 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


pensates  many  evils  to  those  who  happen  to  enjoy  it.  Here  her 
character  of  a  fine  lady  stopped  short,  where  she  ought  to  have 

Scream'd  at  ilk  cleugh,  and  screech'd  at  ilka  how, 
As  loud  as  she  had  seen  the  worriecow. 

On  the  contrary,  with  the  two  boys  for  her  guides,  she  under- 
took long  and  fatiguing  walks  among  the  neighbouring  moun- 
tains, to  visit  glens,  lakes,  waterfalls,  or  whatever  scenes  of 
natural  wonder  or  beauty  lay  concealed  among  their  recesses. 
It  is  Wordsworth,  I  think,  who,  talking  of  an  old  man  under 
difficulties,  remarks  with  a  singular  attention  to  nature : 

Whether  it  was  care  that  spurred  him, 
God  only  knows  ;  but  to  the  very  last, 
He  had  the  lightest  foot  in  Ennerdale. 

In  the  same  manner,  languid,  listless,  and  unhappy  within 
doors,  at  times  even  indicating  something  which  approached 
near  to  contempt  of  the  homely  accommodations  of  her  sister's 
house,  although  she  instantly  endeavoured,  by  a  thousand 
kindnesses,  to  atone  for  such  ebullitions  of  spleen,  Lady  Staun- 
ton appeared  to  feel  interest  and  energy  while  in  the  open  air, 
and  traversing  the  mountain  landscapes  in  society  with  the 
two  boys,  whose  ears  she  delighted  with  stories  of  what  she 
had  seen  in  other  countries,  and  what  she  had  to  show  them 
at  Willingham  Manor.  And  they,  on  the  other  hand,  exerted 
themselves  in  doing  the  honours  of  Dunbartonshire  to  the  lady 
who  seemed  so  kind,  insomuch  that  there  was  scarce  a  glen  in 
the  neighbouring  hills  to  which  they  did  not  introduce  her. 

Upon  one  of  these  excursions,  while  Eeuben  was  otherwise 
employed,  David  alone  acted  as  Lady  Staunton's  guide,  and 
promised  to  show  her  a  cascade  in  the  hills,  grander  and  high- 
er than  any  they  had  yet  visited.  It  was  a  walk  of  five  long 
miles,  and  over  rough  ground,  varied,  however,  and  cheered, 
by  mountain  views,  and  peeps  now  of  the  firth  and  its  islands, 
now  of  distant  lakes,  now  of  rocks  and  precipices.  The  scene 
itself,  too,  when  they  reached  it,  amply  rewarded  the  labour 
of  the  walk.  A  single  shoot  carried  a  considerable  stream 
over  the  face  of  a  black  rock,  which  contrasted  strongly  in  col- 
our with  the  white  foam  of  the  cascade,  and,  at  the  depth  of 
about  twenty  feet,  another  rock  intercepted  the  view  of  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


567 


bottom  of  the  fall.  The  water,  wheeling  out  far  beneath, 
swept  round  the  crag,  which  thus  bounded  their  view,  and 
tumbled  down  the  rocky  glen  in  a  torrent  of  foam.  Those 
who  love  nature  always  desire  to  penetrate  into  its  utmost 
recesses,  and  Lady  Staunton  asked  David  whether  there  was 
not  some  mode  of  gaining  a  view  of  the  abyss  at  the  foot  of 
the  fall.  He  said  that  he  knew  a  station  on  a  shelf  on  the 
further  side  of  the  intercepting  rock,  from  which  the  whole 
waterfall  was  visible,  but  that  the  road  to  it  was  steep  and 
slippery  and  dangerous.  Bent,  however,  on  gratifying  her 
curiosity,  she  desired  him  to  lead  the  way ;  and  accordingly  he 
did  so  over  crag  and  stone,  anxiously  pointing  out  to  her  the 
resting-places  where  she  ought  to  step,  for  their  mode  of  ad- 
vancing soon  ceased  to  be  walking,  and  became  scrambling. 

In  this  manner,  clinging  like  sea-birds  to  the  face  of  the 
rock,  they  were  enabled  at  length  to  turn  round  it,  and  came 
full  in  front  of  the  fall,  which  here  had  a  most  tremendous  as- 
pect, boiling,  roaring,  and  thundering  with  unceasing  din  into 
a  black  cauldron,  a  hundred  feet  at  least  below  them,  which  re- 
sembled the  crater  of  a  volcano.  The  noise,  the  dashing  of  the 
waters,  which  gave  an  unsteady  appearance  to  all  around  them, 
the  trembling  even  of  the  huge  crag  on  which  they  stood,  the 
precariousness  of  their  footing,  for  there  was  scarce  room  for 
them  to  stand  on  the  shelf  of  rock  which  they  had  thus  at- 
tained, had  so  powerful  an  effect  on  the  senses  and  imagina- 
tion of  Lady  Staunton,  that  she  called  out  to  David  she  was 
falling,  and  would  in  fact  have  dropped  from  the  crag  had  he 
not  caught  hold  of  her.  The  boy  was  bold  and  stout  of  his 
age ;  still  he  was  but  fourteen  years  old,  and  as  his  assistance 
gave  no  confidence  to  Lady  Staunton,  she  felt  her  situation  be- 
come really  perilous.  The  chance  was  that,  in  the  appalling 
novelty  of  the  circumstances,  he  might  have  caught  the  infec- 
tion of  her  panic,  in  which  case  it  is  likely  that  both  must  have 
perished.  She  now  screamed  with  terror,  though  without 
hope  of  calling  any  one  to  her  assistance.  To  her  amaze- 
ment, the  scream  was  answered  by  a  whistle  from  above,  of 
a  tone  so  clear  and  shrill  that  it  was  heard  even  amid  the 
noise  of  the  waterfall. 


568 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


In  this  moment  of  terror  and  perplexity,  a  human  face, 
black,  and  having  grizzled  hair  hanging  down  over  the  fore- 
head and  cheeks,  and  mixing  with  mustaches  and  a  beard  of 
the  same  colour,  and  as  much  matted  and  tangled,  looked  down 
on  them  from  a  broken  part  of  the  rock  above. 

" It  is  The  Enemy!"  said  the  boy,  who  had  very  nearly  be- 
come incapable  of  supporting  Lady  Staunton. 

"  No,  no, "  she  exclaimed,  inaccessible  to  supernatural  ter- 
rors, and  restored  to  the  presence  of  mind  of  which  she  had 
been  deprived  by  the  danger  of  her  situation,  "  it  is  a  man. 
For  God's  sake,  my  friend,  help  us!" 

The  face  glared  at  them,  but  made  no  answer ;  in  a  second 
or  two  afterwards,  another,  that  of  a  young  lad,  appeared  be- 
side the  first,  equally  swart  and  begrimed,  but  having  tangled 
black  hair,  descending  in  elf  locks,  which  gave  an  air  of  wildness 
and  ferocity  to  the  whole  expression  of  the  countenance.  Lady 
Staunton  repeated  her  entreaties,  clinging  to  the  rock  with  more 
energy,  as  she  found  that,  from  the  superstitious  terror  of  her 
guide,  he  became  incapable  of  supporting  her.  Her  words  were 
probably  drowned  in  the  roar  of  the  falling  stream,  for,  though 
she  observed  the  lips  of  the  younger  being  whom  she  suppli- 
cated move  as  he  spoke  in  reply,  not  a  word  reached  her  ear. 

A  moment  afterwards  it  appeared  he  had  not  mistaken  the 
nature  of  her  supplication,  which,  indeed,  was  easy  to  be  un- 
derstood from  her  situation  and  gestures.  The  younger  ap- 
parition disappeared,  and  immediately  after  lowered  a  ladder 
of  twisted  osiers,  about  eight  feet  in  length,  and  made  signs 
to  David  to  hold  it  fast  while  the  lady  ascended.  Despair 
gives  courage,  and  finding  herself  in  this  fearful  predicament, 
Lady  Staunton  did  not  hesitate  to  risk  the  ascent  by  the  pre- 
carious means  which  this  accommodation  afforded;  and,  care- 
fully assisted  by  the  person  who  had  thus  providentially  come 
to  her  aid,  she  reached  the  summit  in  safety.  She  did  not, 
however,  even  look  around  her  until  she  saw  her  nephew  lightly 
and  actively  follow  her  example,  although  there  was  now  no 
one  to  hold  the  ladder  fast.  When  she  saw  him  safe  she 
looked  round,  and  could  not  help  shuddering  at  the  place  and 
company  in  which  she  found  herself. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


569 


They  were  on  a  sort  of  platform  of  rock,  surrounded  on 
every  side  by  precipices,  or  overhanging  cliffs,  and  which  it 
would  have  been  scarce  possible  for  any  research  to  have  dis- 
covered, as  it  did  not  seem  to  be  commanded  by  any  accessible 
position.  It  was  partly  covered  by  a  huge  fragment  of  stone, 
which,  having  fallen  from  the  cliffs  above,  had  been  inter- 
cepted by  others  in  its  descent,  and  jammed  so  as  to  serve  for 
a  sloping  roof  to  the  further  part  of  the  broad  shelf  or  plat- 
form on  which  they  stood.  A  quantity  of  withered  moss  and 
leaves,  strewed  beneath  this  rude  and  wretched  shelter,  showed 
the  lairs — they  could  not  be  termed  the  beds — of  those  who 
dwelt  in  this  eyrie,  for  it  deserved  no  other  name.  Of  these, 
two  were  before  Lady  Staunton.  One,  the  same  who  had  af- 
forded such  timely  assistance,  stood  upright  before  them,  a 
tall,  lathy,  young  savage ;  his  dress  a  tattered  plaid  and  phil- 
abeg,  no  shoes,  no  stockings,  no  hat  or  bonnet,  the  place  of 
the  last  being  supplied  by  his  hair,  twisted  and  matted  like 
the  glibb  of  the  ancient  wild  Irish,  and,  like  theirs,  forming  a 
natural  thickset,  stout  enough  to  bear  off  the  cut  of  a  sword. 
Yet  the  eyes  of  the  lad  were  keen  and  sparkling ;  his  gesture 
free  and  noble,  like  that  of  all  savages.  He  took  little  notice 
of  David  Butler,  but  gazed  with  wonder  on  Lady  Staunton,  as 
a  being  different  probably  in  dress,  and  superior  in  beauty, 
to  anything  he  had  ever  beheld.  The  old  man  whose  face 
they  had  first  seen  remained  recumbent  in  the  same  posture 
as  when  he  had  first  looked  down  on  them,  only  his  face  was 
turned  towards  them  as  he  lay  and  looked  up  with  a  lazy  and 
listless  apathy,  which  belied  the  general  expression  of  his 
dark  and  rugged  features.  He  seemed  a  very  tall  man,  but 
was  scarce  better  clad  than  the  younger.  He  had  on  a  loose 
Lowland  greatcoat,  and  ragged  tartan  trews  or  pantaloons. 

All  around  looked  singularly  wild  and  utfpropitious.  Be- 
neath the  brow  of  the  incumbent  rock  was  a  charcoal  fire,  on 
which  there  was  a  still  working,  with  bellows,  pincers,  ham- 
mers, a  movable  anvil,  and  other  smiths ,  tools;  three  guns, 
with  two  or  three  sacks  and  barrels,  were  disposed  against  the 
wall  of  rock,  under  shelter  of  the  superincumbent  crag ;  a  dirk 
and  two  swords,  and  a  Lochaber  axe,  lay  scattered  around  the 


570 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


fire,  of  which  the  red  glare  cast  a  ruddy  tinge  on  the  precipi- 
tous foam  and  mist  of  the  cascade.  The  lad,  when  he  had  sat- 
isfied his  curiosity  with  staring  at  Lady  Staunton,  fetched  an 
earthen  jar  and  a  horn  cup,  into  which  he  poured  some  spirits, 
apparently  hot  from  the  still,  and  offered  them  successively  to 
the  lady  and  to  the  boy.  Both  declined,  and  the  young  sav- 
age quaffed  off  the  draught,  which  could  not  amount  to  less 
than  three  ordinary  glasses.  He  then  fetched  another  ladder 
from  the  corner  of  the  cavern,  if  it  could  be  termed  so,  ad- 
justed it  against  the  transverse  rock,  which  served  as  a  roof, 
and  made  signs  for  the  lady  to  ascend  it,  while  he  held  it  fast 
below.  She  did  so,  and  found  herself  on  the  top  of  a  broad 
rock,  near  the  brink  of  the  chasm  into  which  the  brook  precip- 
itates itself.  She  could  see  the  rest  of  the  torrent  flung  loose 
down  the  rock,  like  the  mane  of  a  wild  horse,  but  without 
having  any  view  of  the  lower  platform  from  which  she  had 
ascended. 

David  was  not  suffered  to  mount  so  easily;  the  lad,  from 
sport  or  love  of  mischief,  shook  the  ladder  a  good  deal  as  he 
ascended,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  the  terror  of  young  Butler; 
so  that,  when  they  had  both  come  up,  they  looked  on  each 
other  with  no  friendly  eyes.  Neither,  however,  spoke.  The 
young  caird,  or  tinker,  or  gipsy,  with  a  good  deal  of  atten- 
tion, assisted  Lady  Staunton  up  a  very  perilous  ascent  which 
she  had  still  to  encounter,  and  they  were  followed  by  David 
Butler,  until  all  three  stood  clear  of  the  ravine  on  the  side  of 
a  mountain,  whose  sides  were  covered  with  heather  and  sheets 
of  loose  shingle.  So  narrow  was  the  chasm  out  of  which  they 
ascended,  that,  unless  when  they  were  on  the  very  verge,  the 
eye  passed  to  the  other  side  without  perceiving  the  existence 
of  a  rent  so  fearful,  and  nothing  was  seen  of  the  cataract, 
though  its  deep  hoarse  voice  was  still  heard. 

Lady  Staunton,  freed  from  the  danger  of  rock  and  river, 
had  now  a  new  subject  of  anxiety.  Her  two  guides  confront- 
ed each  other  with  angry  countenances;  for  David,  though 
younger  by  two  years  at  least,  and  much  shorter,  was  a  stout, 
well-set,  and  very  bold  boy. 

"You  are  the  black-coat's  son  of  Knocktarlitie, "  said  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


571 


young  caircl;  "if  you  come  here  again,  I'll  pitch  you  down 
the  linn  like  a  foot-ball." 

"  Ay,  lad,  ye  are  very  short  to  be  sae  lang, 99  retorted  young 
Butler,  undauntedly,  and  measuring  his  opponent's  height 
with  an  undismayed  eye.  "  I  am  thinking  you  are  a  gillie  of 
Black  Donacha;  if  you  come  down  the  glen,  we'll  shoot  you 
like  a  wild  buck." 

"  You  may  tell  your  father, "  said  the  lad,  "  that  the  leaf  on 
the  timber  is  the  last  he  shall  see ;  we  will  hae  amends  for  the 
mischief  he  has  done  to  us." 

"  I  hope  he  will  live  to  see  mony  simmers,  and  do  ye  muckle 
mair,"  answered  David. 

More  might  have  passed,  but  Lady  Staunton  stepped  be- 
tween them  with  her  purse  in  her  hand,  and,  taking  out  a 
guinea,  of  which  it  contained  several,  visible  through  the  net- 
work, as  well  as  some  silver  in  the  opposite  end,  offered  it  to 
the  caird. 

"  The  white  siller,  lady — the  white  siller, 99  said  the  young 
savage,  to  whom  the  value  of  gold  was  probably  unknown. 

Lady  Staunton  poured  what  silver  she  had  into  his  hand, 
and  the  juvenile  savage  snatched  it  greedily,  and  made  a  sort 
of  half  inclination  of  acknowledgment  and  adieu. 

"  Let  us  make  haste  now,  Lady  Staunton, "  said  David,  "  for 
there  will  be  little  peace  with  them  since  they  hae  seen  your 
purse." 

They  hurried  on  as  fast  as  they  could ;  but  they  had  not  de- 
scended the  hill  a  hundred  yards  or  two  before  they  heard  a 
halloo  behind  them,  and  looking  back,  saw  both  the  old  man 
and  the  young  one  pursuing  them  with  great  speed,  the  for- 
mer with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder.  Very  fortunately,  at  this 
moment  a  sportsman,  a  gamekeeper  of  the  Duke,  who  was  en- 
gaged in  stalking  deer,  appeared  on  the  face  of  the  hill.  The 
bandits  stopped  on  seeing  him,  and  Lady  Staunton  hastened 
to  put  herself  under  his  protection.  He  readily  gave  them  his 
escort  home,  and  it  required  his  athletic  form  and  loaded  rifle 
to  restore  to  the  lady  her  usual  confidence  and  courage. 

Donald  listened  with  much  gravity  to  the  account  of  their 
adventure;  and  answered  with  great  composure  to  David's 


572 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


repeated  inquiries,  whether  he  could  have  suspected  that  the 
cairds  had  been  lurking  there :  "  Inteed,  Master  Tavie,  I  might 
hae  had  some  guess  that  they  were  there,  or  thereabout, 
though  maybe  I  had  nane.  But  I  am  aften  on  the  hill;  and 
they  are  like  wasps:  they  stang  only  them  that  fashes  them; 
sae,  for  my  part,  I  make  a  point  not  to  see  them,  unless  I  were 
ordered  out  on  the  preceese  errand  by  MacCallummore  or 
Knockdunder,  whilk  is  a  clean  different  case." 

They  reached  the  manse  late ;  and  Lady  Staunton,  who  had 
suffered  much  both  from  fright  and  fatigue,  never  again  per- 
mitted her  love  of  the  picturesque  to  carry  her  so  far  among 
the  mountains  without  a  stronger  escort  than  David,  though 
she  acknowledged  he  had  won  the  stand  of  colours  by  the  in- 
trepidity he  had  displayed,  so  soon  as  assured  he  had  to  do 
with  an  earthly  antagonist.  "  I  couldna  maybe  hae  made 
muckle  o'  a  bargain  wi?  yon  lang  callant,"  said  David,  when 
thus  complimented  on  his  valour ;  "  but  when  ye  deal  wiJ  thae 
folk,  it's  tyne  heart  tyne  a\" 


CHAPTER  LI. 


What  see  you  there, 
That  hath  so  cowarded  and  chased  your  blood 
Out  of  appearance  ? 

Henry  V. 

We  are  under  the  necessity  of  returning  to  Edinburgh 
where  the  General  Assembly  was  now  sitting.  It  is  well 
known  that  some  Scottish  nobleman  is  usually  deputed  as 
High  Commissioner,  to  represent  the  person  of  the  king  in 
this  convocation;  that  he  has  allowances  for  the  purpose  of 
maintaining  a  certain  outward  show  and  solemnity,  and  sup- 
porting the  hospitality  of  the  representative  of  Majesty. 
Whoever  is  distinguished  by  rank  or  office  in  or  near  the 
capital  usually  attends  the  morning  levees  of  the  Lord  Com- 
missioner, and  walks  with  him  in  procession  to  the  place 
where  the  Assembly  meets. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  573 

The  nobleman  who  held  this  office  chanced  to  be  particu- 
larly connected  with  Sir  George  Staunton,  and  it  was  in  his 
train  that  he  ventured  to  tread  the  High  Street  of  Edinburgh 
for  the  first  time  since  the  fatal  night  of  Porteous's  execution. 
Walking  at  the  right  hand  of  the  representative  of  Sovereign- 
ty,  covered  with  lace  and  embroidery,  and  with  all  the  para- 
phernalia of  wealth  and  rank,  the  handsome  though  wasted 
form  of  the  English  stranger  attracted  all  eyes.  Who  could 
have  recognised  in  a  form  so  aristocratic  the  plebeian  convict 
that,  disguised  in  the  rags  of  Madge  Wildfire,  had  led  the 
formidable  rioters  to  their  destined  revenge?  There  was  no 
possibility  that  this  could  happen,  even  if  any  of  his  ancient 
acquaintances,  a  race  of  men  whose  lives  are  so  brief,  had 
happened  to  survive  the  span  commonly  allotted  to  evil- 
doers. Besides,  the  whole  affair  had*  long  fallen  asleep,  with 
the  angry  passions  in  which  it  originated.  Nothing  is  more 
certain  than  that  persons  known  to  have  had  a  share  in  that 
formidable  riot,  and  to  have  fled  from  Scotland  on  that  ac- 
count, had  made  money  abroad,  returned  to  enjoy  it  in  their 
native  country,  and  lived  and  died  undisturbed  by  the  law.1 
The  forbearance  of  the  magistrate  was  in  these  instances  wise, 
certainly,  and  just ;  for  what  good  impression  could  be  made 
on  the  public  mind  by  punishment,  when  the  memory  of  the 
offence  was  obliterated,  and  all  that  was  remembered  was  the 
recent  inoffensive,  or  perhaps  exemplary,  conduct  of  the  of- 
fender? 

Sir  George  Staunton  might,  therefore,  tread  the  scene  of 
his  former  audacious  exploits  free  from  the  apprehension  of 
the  law,  or  even  of  discovery  or  suspicion.  But  with  what 
feelings  his  heart  that  day  throbbed  must  be  left  to  those  of 
the  reader  to  imagine.  It  was  an  object  of  no  common  inter- 
est which  had  brought  him  to  encounter  so  many  painful  re- 
membrances. 

In  consequence  of  Jeanie's  letter  to  Lady  Staunton,  trans- 
mitting the  confession,  he  had  visited  the  town  of  Carlisle, 
and  had  found  Archdeacon  Fleming  still  alive,  by  whom 
that  confession  had  been  received.    This  reverend  gentleman, 
1  See  Arnot's  Criminal  Trials,  ito  ed.,  p.  235. 


574 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


whose  character  stood  deservedly  high,  he  so  far  admitted 
into  his  confidence  as  to  own  himself  the  father  of  the  unfor- 
tunate infant  which  had  been  spirited  away  by  Madge  Wild- 
fire, representing  the  intrigue  as  a  matter  of  juvenile  extrava- 
gance on  his  own  part,  for  which  he  was  now  anxious  to  atone, 
by  tracing,  if  possible,  what  had  become  of  the  child.  After 
some  recollection  of  the  circumstances,  the  clergyman  was 
able  to  call  to  memory  that  the  unhappy  woman  had  writ- 
ten a  letter  to  "George  Staunton,  Esq.,  younger,  Eectory, 
Willingham,  by  Grantham" ;  that  he  had  forwarded  it  to  the 
address  accordingly,  and  that  it  had  been  returned,  with  a 
note  from  the  Reverend  Mr.  Staunton,  Rector  of  Willingham, 
saying,  he  knew  no  such  person  as  him  to  whom  the  letter 
was  addressed.  As  this  had  happened  just  at  the  time  when 
George  had,  for  the  last  time,  absconded  from  his  father's 
house  to  carry  off  Erne,  he  was  at  no  loss  to  account  for  the 
cause  of  the  resentment  under  the  influence  of  which  his  fa- 
ther had  disowned  him.  This  was  another  instance  in  which 
his  ungovernable  temper  had  occasioned  his  misfortune ;  had 
he  remained  at  Willingham  but  a  few  days  longer,  he  would 
have  received  Margaret  Murdockson's  letter,  in  which  was  ex- 
actly described  the  person  and  haunts  of  the  woman,  Annaple 
Bailzou,  to  whom  she  [Madge  Wildfire]  had  parted  with  the 
infant.  It  appeared  that  Meg  Murdockson  had  been  induced 
to  make  this  confession,  less  from  any  feelings  of  contrition, 
than  from  the  desire  of  obtaining,  through  George  Staunton 
or  his  father's  means,  protection  and  support  for  her  daughter 
Madge.  Her  letter  to  George  Staunton  said ;  "  That  while  the 
writer  lived,  her  daughter  would  have  needed  nought  from  any- 
body, and  that  she  would  never  have  meddled  in  these  affairs, 
except  to  pay  back  the  ill  that  George  had  done  to  her  and 
hers.  But  she  was  to  die,  and  her  daughter  would  be  desti- 
tute, and  without  reason  to  guide  her.  She  had  lived  in  the 
world  long  enough  to  know  that  people  did  nothing  for  noth- 
ing ;  so  she  had  told  George  Staunton  all  he  could  wish  to 
know  about  his  wean,  in  hopes  he  would  not  see  the  demented 
young  creature  he  had  ruined  perish  for  want.  As  for  her 
motives  for  not  telling  them  sooner,  she  had  a  long  account 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


575 


to  reckon  for  in  the  next  world,  and  she  would  reckon  for 
that  too." 

The  clergyman  said  that  Meg  had  died  in  the  same  desper- 
ate state  of  mind,  occasionally  expressing  some  regret  about 
the  child  which  was  lost,  but  oftener  sorrow  that  the  mother 
had  not  been  hanged — her  mind  at  once  a  chaos  of  guilt,  rage, 
and  apprehension  for  her  daughter's  future  safety;  that  in- 
stinctive feeling  of  parental  anxiety  which  she  had  in  common 
with  the  she-wolf  and  lioness  being  the  last  shade  of  kindly 
affection  that  occupied  a  breast  equally  savage. 

The  melancholy  catastrophe  of  Madge  Wildfire  was  occa- 
sioned by  her  taking  the  confusion  of  her  mother's  execution 
as  affording  an  opportunity  of  leaving  the  workhouse  to  which 
the  clergyman  had  sent  her,  and  presenting  herself  to  the  mob 
in  their  fury,  to  perish  in  the  way  we  have  already  seen. 
When  Dr.  Fleming  found  the  convict's  letter  was  returned 
from  Lincolnshire,  he  wrote  to  a  friend  in  Edinburgh,  to  in- 
quire into  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  girl  whose  child  had 
been  stolen,  and  was  informed  by  his  correspondent  that  she 
had  been  pardoned,  and  that,  with  all  her  family,  she  had 
retired  to  some  distant  part  of  Scotland,  or  left  the  kingdom 
entirely.  And  here  the  matter  rested,  until,  at  Sir  George 
Staunton's  application,  the  clergyman  looked  out  and  produced 
Margaret  Murdockson's  returned  letter,  and  the  other  mem- 
oranda which  he  had  kept  concerning  the  affair. 

Whatever  might  be  Sir  George  Staunton's  feelings  in  rip- 
ping up  this  miserable  history,  and  listening  to  the  tragical 
fate  of  the  unhappy  girl  whom  he  had  ruined,  he  had  so  much 
of  his  ancient  wilfulness  of  disposition  left  as  to  shut  his  eyes 
on  everything  save  the  prospect  which  seemed  to  open  itself 
of  recovering  his  son.  It  was  true,  it  would  be  difficult  to 
produce  him  without  telling  much  more  of  the  history  of  his 
birth  and  the  misfortunes  of  his  parents  than  it  was  prudent 
to  make  known.  But  let  him  once  be  found,  and,  being 
found,  let  him  but  prove  worthy  of  his  father's  protection, 
and  many  ways  might  be  fallen  upon  to  avoid  such  risk.  Sir 
George  Staunton  was  at  liberty  to  adopt  him  as  his  heir,  if 
he  pleased,  without  communicating  the  secret  of  his  birth;  or 


576 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


an  Act  of  Parliament  might  be  obtained,  declaring  him  legiti- 
mate, and  allowing  him  the  name  and  arms  of  his  father.  He 
was,  indeed,  already  a  legitimate  child  according  to  the  law 
of  Scotland,  by  the  subsequent  marriage  of  his  parents.  Wil- 
ful in  everything,  Sir  George's  sole  desire  now  was  to  see  this 
son,  even  should  his  recovery  bring  with  it  a  new  series  of  mis- 
fortunes as  dreadful  as  those  which  followed  on  his  being  lost. 

But  where  was  the  youth  who  might  eventually  be  called  to 
the  honours  and  estates  of  this  ancient  family?  On  what 
heath  was  he  wandering,  and  shrouded  by  what  mean  dis- 
guise? Did  he  gain  his  precarious  bread  by  some  petty  trade, 
by  menial  toil,  by  violence,  or  by  theft?  These  were  ques- 
tions on  which  Sir  George's  anxious  investigations  could  ob- 
tain no  light.  Many  remembered  that  Armaple  Bailzou  wan- 
dered through  the  country  as  a  beggar  and  fortune-teller,  or 
spae-wife;  some  remembered  that  she  had  been  seen  with  an 
infant  in  1737  or  1738,  but  for  more  than  ten  years  she  had 
not  travelled  that  district,  and  that  she  had  been  heard  to  say 
she  was  going  to  a  distant  part  of  Scotland,  of  which  country  she 
was  a  native.  To  Scotland,  therefore,  came  Sir  George  Staun- 
ton, having  parted  with  his  lady  at  Glasgow ;  and  his  arrival 
at  Edinburgh  happening  to  coincide  with  the  sitting  of  the 
General  Assembly  of  the  Kirk,  his  acquaintance  with  the  noble- 
man who  held  the  office  of  Lord  High  Commissioner  forced  him 
more  into  public  than  suited  either  his  views  or  inclinations. 

At  the  public  table  of  this  nobleman,  Sir  George  Staunton 
was  placed  next  to  a  clergyman  of  respectable  appearance,  and 
well-bred  though  plain  demeanour,  whose  name  he  discovered 
to  be  Butler.  It  had  been  no  part  of  Sir  George's  plan  to 
take  his  brother-in-law  into  his  confidence,  and  he  had  re- 
joiced exceedingly  in  the  assurances  he  received  from  his  wife 
that  Mrs.  Butler,  the  very  soul  of  integrity  and  honour,  had 
never  suffered  the  account  he  had  given  of  himself  at  Willing- 
ham  Rectory  to  transpire,  even  to  her  husband.  But  he  was 
not  sorry  to  have  an  opportunity  to  converse  with  so  near  a 
connexion,  without  being  known  to  him,  and  to  form  a  judg- 
ment of  his  character  and  understanding.  He  saw  much,  and 
heard  more,  to  raise  Butler  very  high  in  his  opinion.  He 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


577 


found  he  was  generally  respected  by  those  of  his  own  profes- 
sion, as  well  as  by  the  laity  who  had  seats  in  the  Assembly, 
He  had  made  several  public  appearances  in  the  Assembly,  dis- 
tinguished by  good  sense,  candour,  and  ability ;  and  he  was 
followed  and  admired  as  a  sound,  and  at  the  same  time  an 
eloquent,  preacher. 

This  was  all  very  satisfactory  to  Sir  George  Staunton's 
pride,  which  had  revolted  at  the  idea  of  his  wife's  sister 
being  obscurely  married.  He  now  began,  on  the  contrary,  to 
think,  the  connexion  so  much  better  than  he  expected,  that  if 
it  should  be  necessary  to  acknowledge  it,  in  consequence  of 
the  recovery  of  his  son,  it  would  sound  well  enough  that  Lady 
Staunton  had  a  sister  who,  in  the  decayed  state  of  the  family, 
had  married  a  Scottish  clergyman,  high  in  the  opinion  of  his 
countrymen,  and  a  leader  in  the  church. 

It  was  with  these  feelings  that,  when  the  Lord  High  Com- 
missioner's company  broke  up,  Sir  George  Staunton,  under 
pretence  of  prolonging  some  inquiries  concerning  the  consti- 
tution of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  requested  Butler  to  go  home 
to  his  lodgings  in  the  Lawnmarket,  and  drink  a  cup  of  coffee. 
Butler  agreed  to  wait  upon  him,  providing  Sir  George  would 
permit  him,  in  passing,  to  call  at  a  friend's  house  where  he 
resided,  and  make  his  apology  for  not  coming  to  partake  her 
tea.  They  proceeded  up  the  High  Street,  entered  the  Krames, 
and  passed  the  begging-box,  placed  to  remind  those  at  liberty 
of  the  distresses  of  the  poor  prisoners.  Sir  George  paused 
there  one  instant,  and  next  day  a  £20  note  was  found  in  that 
receptacle  for  public  charity. 

When  he  came  up  to  Butler  again,  he  found  him  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  entrance  of  the  tolbooth,  and  apparently  in 
deep  thought. 

"  That  seems  a  very  strong  door, "  said  Sir  George,  by  way 
of  saying  something. 

"  It  is  so,  sir, "  said  Butler,  turning  off  and  beginning  to 
walk  forward,  "  but  it  was  my  misfortune  at  one  time  to  see 
it  prove  greatly  too  weak." 

At  this  moment,  looking  at  his  companion,  he  asked  him 
whether  he  felt  himself  ill ;  and  Sir  George  Staunton  admitted 
37 


578 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


that  he  had  been  so  foolish  as  to  eat  ice,  which  sometimes  dis- 
agreed with  him.  With  kind  ofnciousness,  that  would  not  be 
gainsaid,  and  ere  he  could  find  out  where  he  was  going,  Butler 
hurried  Sir  George  into  the  friend's  house,  near  to  the  prison, 
in  which  he  himself  had  lived  since  he  came  to  town,  being, 
indeed,  no  other  than  that  of  our  old  friend  Bartoline  Saddle- 
tree, in  which  Lady  Staunton  had  served  a  short  noviciate 
as  a  shop-maid.  This  recollection  rushed  on  her  husband's 
mind,  and  the  blush  of  shame  which  ij  excited  overpowered 
the  sensation  of  fear  which  had  produced  his  former  paleness. 
Good  Mrs.  Saddletree,  however,  bustled  about  to  receive  the 
rich  English  baronet  as  the  friend  of  Mr.  Butler,  and  request- 
ed an  elderly  female  in  a  black  gown  to  sit  still,  in  a  way 
which  seemed  to  imply  a  wish  that  she  would  clear  the  way 
for  her  betters.  In  the  mean  while,  understanding  the  state 
of  the  case,  she  ran  to  get  some  cordial  waters,  sovereign,  of 
course,  in  all  cases  of  faintishness  whatsoever.  During  her 
absence,  her  vi  jitor,  the  female  in  black,  made  some  progress 
out  of  the  room,  and  might  have  left  it  altogether  without  par- 
ticular observation,  had  she  not  stumbled  at  the  threshold,  so 
near  Sir  George  Staunton  that  he,  in  point  of  civility,  raised 
her  and  assisted  her  to  the  door. 

"  Mrs.  Porteous  is  turned  very  doited  now,  puir  body,"  said 
Mrs.  Saddletree,  as  she  returned  with  her  bottle  in  her  hand. 
"  She  is  no  sae  auld,  but  she  got  a  sair  back-cast  wi'  the 
slaughter  o'  her  husband.  Ye  had  some  trouble  about  that 
job,  Mr.  Butler.  I  think,  sir  (to  Sir  George),  ye  had  better 
drink  out  the  haill  glass,  for  to  my  een  ye  look  waur  than 
when  ye  came  in. " 

And,  indeed,  he  grew  as  pale  as  a  corpse  on  recollecting  who 
it  was  that  his  arm  had  so  lately  supported — the  widow  whom 
he  had  so  large  a  share  in  making  such. 

"  It  is  a  prescribed  job,  that  case  of  Porteous  now,"  said  old 
Saddletree,  who  was  confined  to  his  chair  by  the  gout — "  clean 
prescribed  and  out  of  date." 

"  I  am  not  clear  of  that,  neighbour, "  said  Plumdamas,  "  for 
I  have  heard  them  say  twenty  years  should  rin,  and  this  is  but 
the  fifty-ane;  Porteous's  mob  was  in  thretty- seven. " 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  579 


"  Ye' 11  no  teach  me  law,  I  think,  neighbour — me  that  has 
four  gaun  pleas,  and  might  hae  had  fourteen,  an  it  hadna  been 
the  gudewife?  I  tell  ye,  if  the  foremost  of  the  Porteous  mob 
were  standing  there  where  that  gentleman  stands,  the  King's- 
Advocate  wadna  meddle  wi'  him:  it  fa's  under  the  negative 
prescription." 

"Haud  your  din,  carles,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  "and  let 
the  gentleman  sit  down  and  get  a  dish  of  comfortable  tea." 

But  Sir  George  had  had  quite  enough  of  their  conversation ; 
and  Butler,  at  his  request,  made  an  apology  to  Mrs.  Saddle- 
tree, and  accompanied  him  to  his  lodgings.  Here  they  found 
another  guest  waiting  Sir  George  Staunton's  return.  This 
was  no  other  than  our  reader's  old  acquaintance,  Katcliffe. 

This  man  had  exercised  the  office  of  turnkey  with  so  much 
vigilance,  acuteness,  and  fidelity  that  he  gradually  rose  to 
be  governor  or  captain  of  the  tolbooth.  And  it  is  yet  remem- 
bered in  tradition,  that  young  men  who  rather  sought  amus- 
ing than  select  society  in  their  merry-meetings  used  some- 
times to  request  Katcliffe' s  company,  in  order  that  he  might 
regale  them  with  legends  of  his  extraordinary  feats  in  the  way 
of  robbery  and  escape. 1  But  he  lived  and  died  without  re- 
suming his  original  vocation,  otherwise  than  in  his  narratives 
over  a  bottle. 

Under  these  circumstances,  he  had  been  recommended  to  Sir 
George  Staunton  by  a  man  of  the  law  in  Edinburgh,  as  a  per- 
son likely  to  answer  any  questions  he  might  have  to  ask  about 
Annaple  Bailzou,  who,  according  to  the  colour  which  Sir  George 
Staunton  gave  to  his  cause  of  inquiry,  was  supposed  to  have 
stolen  a  child  in  the  west  of  England,  belonging  to  a  family  in 
which  he  was  interested.  The  gentleman  had  not  mentioned 
his  name,  but  only  his  official  title ;  so  that  Sir  George  Staun- 
ton, when  told  that  the  captain  of  the  tolbooth  was  waiting 
for  him  in  his  parlour,  had  no  idea  of  meeting  his  former  ac- 
quaintance, Jem  Katcliffe. 

This,  therefore,  was  another  new  and  most  unpleasant  sur- 
prise, for  he  had  no  difficulty  in  recollecting  this  man's  re- 
markable features.  The  change,  however,  from  George  Kob- 
1  See  Katcliffe.   Note  37. 


580 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


ertson  to  Sir  George  Staunton  baffled  even  the  penetration  of 
Batcliffe,  and  he  bowed  very  low  to  the  baronet  and  his  guest, 
hoping  Mr.  Butler  would  excuse  his  recollecting  that  he  was 
an  old  acquaintance. 

"  And  once  rendered  my  wife  a  piece  of  great  service, "  said 
Mr.  Butler,  "  for  which  she  sent  you  a  token  of  grateful  ac- 
knowledgment, which  I  hope  came  safe  and  was  welcome. " 

"Deil  a  doubt  on't,"  said  Batcliffe,  with  a  knowing  nod; 
"  but  ye  are  muckle  changed  for  the  better  since  I  saw  ye, 
Maister  Butler." 

"  So  much  so,  that  I  wonder  you  knew  me." 

"  Aha,  then !  Deil  a  face  I  see  I  ever  forget, "  said  Bat- 
cliffe; while  Sir  George  Staunton,  tied  to  the  stake  and  in- 
capable of  escaping,  internally  cursed  the  accuracy  of  his 
memory.  "And  yet,  sometimes,"  continued  Batcliffe,  "the 
sharpest  hand  will  be  taen  in.  There  is  a  face  in  this  very 
room,  if  I  might  presume  to  be  sae  bauld,  that  if  I  didna 
ken  the  honourable  person  it  belangs  to,  I  might  think  it  had 
some  cast  of  an  auld  acquaintance." 

"  I  should  not  be  much  flattered, "  answered  the  Baronet, 
sternly,  and  roused  by  the  risk  in  which  he  saw  himself 
placed,  "if  it  is  to  me  you  mean  to  apply  that  compliment." 

"  By  no  manner  of  means,  sir, "  said  Ratcliffe,  bowing  very 
low;  "I  am  come  to  receive  your  honour's  commands,  and  no 
to  trouble  your  honour  wi?  my  poor  observations." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Sir  George,  "I  am  told  you  understand 
police  matters ;  so  do  I ;  to  convince  you  of  which,  here  are  ten 
guineas  of  retaining  fee ;  I  make  them  fifty  when  you  can  find 
me  certain  notice  of  a  person,  living  or  dead,  whom  you  will 
find  described  in  that  paper.  I  shall  leave  town  presently ; 
you  may  send  your  written  answer  to  me  to  the  care  of  Mr. 

 (naming  his  highly  respectable  agent),  or  of  his  Grace 

the  Lord  High  Commissioner." 

Batcliffe  bowed  and  withdrew. 

"I  ha  ye  angered  the  proud  peat  now,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"by  finding  out  a  likeness;  but  if  George  Bobertson's  father 
had  lived  within  a  mile  of  his  mother,  d — n  me  if  I  should 
not  know  what  to  think,  for  as  high  as  he  carries  his  head. " 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


581 


When  he  was  left  alone  with  Butler,  Sir  George  Staunton 
ordered  tea  and  coffee,  which  were  brought  by  his  valet,  and 
then,  after  considering  with  himself  for  a  minute,  asked  his 
guest  whether  he  had  lately  heard  from  his  wife  and  family. 

Butler,  with  some  surprise  at  the  question,  replied :  "  That 
he  had  received  no  letter  for  some  time ;  his  wife  was  a  poor 
pen  worn  an." 

"Then,"  said  Sir  George  Staunton,  "I  am  the  first  to  in- 
form you  there  has  been  an  invasion  of  your  quiet  premises 
since  you  left  home.  My  wife,  whom  the  Duke  of  Argyle 
had  the  goodness  to  permit  to  use  Eoseneath  Lodge,  while 
she  was  spending  some  weeks  in  your  country,  has  sallied 
across  and  taken  up  her  quarters  in  the  manse,  as  she  says, 
to  be  nearer  the  goats,  whose  milk  she  is  using;  but  I  be- 
lieve, in  reality,  because  she  prefers  Mrs.  Butler's  company 
to  that  of  the  respectable  gentleman  who  acts  as  seneschal  on 
the  Duke's  domains." 

Mr.  Butler  said :  "  He  had  often  heard  the  late  Duke  and 
the  present  speak  with  high  respect  of  Lady  Staunton,  and 
was  happy  if  his  house  could  accommodate  any  friend  of 
theirs ;  it  would  be  but  a  very  slight  acknowledgment  of  the 
many  favours  he  owed  them." 

"  That  does  not  make  Lady  Staunton  and  myself  the  less 
obliged  to  your  hospitality,  sir, "  said  Sir  George.  "  May  I 
inquire  if  you  think  of  returning  home  soon?" 

"  In  the  course  of  two  days, "  Mr.  Butler  answered,  "  his 
duty  in  the  Assembly  would  be  ended ;  and  the  other  matters 
he  had  in  town  being  all  finished,  he  was  desirous  of  return- 
ing to  Dunbartonshire  as  soon  as  he  could ;  but  he  was  under 
the  necessity  of  transporting  a  considerable  sum  in  bills  and 
money  with  him,  and  therefore  wished  to  travel  in  company 
with  one  or  two  of  his  brethren  of  the  clergy." 

"  My  escort  will  be  more  safe, "  said  Sir  George  Staunton, 
"  and  I  think  of  setting  off  to-morrow  or  next  day.  If  you 
will  give  me  the  pleasure  of  your  company,  I  will  undertake 
to  deliver  you  and  your  charge  safe  at  the  manse,  provided 
you  will  admit  me  along  with  you." 

Mr.  Butler  gratefully  accepted  of  this  proposal;  the  ap- 


582 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


pointment  was  made  accordingly,  and  by  despatches  with  one 
of  Sir  George's  servants,  who  was  sent  forward  for  the  pur- 
pose, the  inhabitants  of  the  manse  of  Knocktarlitie  were  made 
acquainted  with  the  intended  journey;  and  the  news  rung 
through  the  whole  vicinity,  "  that  the  minister  was  coming 
back  wi'  a  braw  English  gentleman,  and  a'  the  siller  that 
was  to  pay  for  the  estate  of  Craigsture. " 

This  sudden  resolution  of  going  to  Knocktarlitie  had  been 
adopted  by  Sir  George  Staunton  in  consequence  of  the  inci- 
dents of  the  evening.  In  spite  of  his  present  consequence,  he 
felt  he  had  presumed  too  far  in  venturing  so  near  the  scene  of 
his  former  audacious  acts  of  violence,  and  he  knew  too  well 
from  past  experience  the  acuteness  of  a  man  like  Eatcliffe 
again  to  encounter  him.  The  next  two  days  he  kept  his 
lodgings  under  pretence  of  indisposition,  and  took  leave,  by 
writing,  of  his  noble  friend,  the  High  Commissioner,  alleging 
the  opportunity  of  Mr.  Butler's  company  as  a  reason  for  leav- 
ing Edinburgh  sooner  than  he  had  proposed.  He  had  a  long 
conference  with  his  agent  on  the  subj  ect  of  Annaple  Bailzou ; 
and  the  professional  gentleman,  who  was  the  agent  also  of  the 
Argyle  family,  had  directions  to  collect  all  the  information 
which  Batcliffe  or  others  might  be  able  to  obtain  concerning 
the  fate  of  that  woman  and  the  unfortunate  child,  and,  so 
soon  as  anything  transpired  which  had  the  least  appearance 
of  being  important,  that  he  should  send  an  express  with  it  in- 
stantly to  Knocktarlitie.  These  instructions  were  backed  with 
a  deposit  of  money  and  a  request  that  no  expense  might  be 
spared;  so  that  Sir  George  Staunton  had  little  reason  to  ap- 
prehend negligence  on  the  part  of  the  persons  entrusted  with 
the  commission. 

The  journey  which  the  brothers  made  in  company  was  at- 
tended with  more  pleasure,  even  to  Sir  George  Staunton,  than 
he  had  ventured  to  expect.  His  heart  lightened  in  spite  of 
himself  when  they  lost  sight  of  Edinburgh;  and  the  easy, 
sensible  conversation  of  Butler  was  well  calculated  to  with- 
draw his  thoughts  from  painful  reflections.  He  even  began 
to  think  whether  there  could  be  much  difficulty  in  removing 
his  wife's  connexions  to  the  rectory  of  Willingham;  it  was 


THE  HEAKT  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


583 


only  on  his  part  procuring  some  still  better  preferment  for  the 
present  incumbent,  and  on  Butler' s,  that  he  should  take  orders 
according  to  the  English  Church,  to  which  he  could  not  con- 
ceive a  possibility  of  his  making  objection,  and  then  he  had 
them  residing  under  his  wing.  No  doubt,  there  was  pain  in 
seeing  Mrs.  Butler,  acquainted,  as  he  knew  her  to  be,  with 
the  full  truth  of  his  evil  history.  But  then  her  silence, 
though  he  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  her  indiscretion 
hitherto,  was  still  more  absolutely  ensured.  It  would  keep 
his  lady,  also,  both  in  good  temper  and  in  more  subjection; 
for  she  was  sometimes  troublesome  to  him,  by  insisting  on  re- 
maining in  town  when  he  desired  to  retire  to  the  country, 
alleging  the  total  want  of  society  at  Willingham.  "  Madam, 
your  sister  is  there, "  would,  he  thought,  be  a  sufficient  an- 
swer to  this  ready  argument. 

He  sounded  Butler  on  this  subject,  asking  what  he  would 
think  of  an  English  living  of  twelve  hundred  pounds  yearly, 
with  the  burden  of  affording  his  company  now  and  then  to  a 
neighbour  whose  health  was  not  strong,  or  his  spirits  equal. 
"  He  might  meet, w  he  said,  "  occasionally,  a  very  learned  and 
accomplished  gentleman,  who  was  in  orders  as  a  Catholic 
priest,  but  he  hoped  that  would  be  no  insurmountable  objec- 
tion to  a  man  of  his  liberality  of  sentiment.  What, "  he  said, 
"  would  Mr.  Butler  think  of  as  an  answer,  if  the  offer  should 
be  made  to  him?" 

"  Simply,  that  I  could  not  accept  of  it, "  said  Mr.  Butler. 
"  I  have  no  mind  to  enter  into  the  various  debates  between  the 
churches ;  but  I  was  brought  up  in  mine  own,  have  received 
her  ordination,  am  satisfied  of  the  truth  of  her  doctrines,  and 
will  die  under  the  banner  I  have  enlisted  to. " 

"What  may  be  the  value  of  your  preferment ?"  said  Sir 
George  Staunton,  "unless  I  am  asking  an  indiscreet  question." 

"  Probably  one  hundred  a  year,  one  year  with  another,  be- 
sides my  glebe  and  pasture-ground. " 

"And  you  scruple  to  exchange  that  for  twelve  hundred 
a  year,  without  alleging  any  damning  difference  of  doctrine 
betwixt  the  two  churches  of  England  and  Scotland?" 

"On  that,  sir,  I  have  reserved  my  judgment;  there  may  be 


584 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


much  good,  and  there  are  certainly  saving  means,  in  both,  but 
every  man  must  act  according  to  his  own  lights.  I  hope  I  have 
done,  and  am  in  the  course  of  doing,  my  Master's  work  in  this 
Highland  parish ;  and  it  would  ill  become  me,  for  the  sake  of 
lucre,  to  leave  my  sheep  in  the  wilderness.  But,  even  in  the 
temporal  view  which  you  have  taken  of  the  matter,  Sir  George, 
this  hundred  pounds  a  year  of  stipend  hath  fed  and  clothed  us, 
and  left  us  nothing  to  wish  for;  my  father-in-law's  succession, 
and  other  circumstances,  have  added  a  small  estate  of  about 
twice  as  much  more,  and  how  we  are  to  dispose  of  it  I  do  not 
know.  So  I  leave  it  to  you,  sir,  to  think  if  I  were  wise,  not 
having  the  wish  or  opportunity  of  spending  three  hundred 
a  year,  to  covet  the  possession  of  four  times  that  sum." 

"This  is  philosophy,"  said  Sir  George;  "I  have  heard  of 
it,  but  I  never  saw  it  before." 

"  It  is  common  sense, "  replied  Butler,  "  which  accords  with 
philosophy  and  religion  more  frequently  than  pedants  or  zeal- 
ots are  apt  to  admit." 

Sir  George  turned  the  subject,  and  did  not  again  resume  it. 
Although  they  travelled  in  Sir  George's  chariot,  he  seemed  so 
much  fatigued  with  the  motion,  that  it  was  necessary  for  him 
to  remain  for  a  day  at  a  small  town  called  Mid-Calder,  which 
was  their  first  stage  from  Edinburgh.  Glasgow  occupied  an- 
other day,  so  slow  were  their  motions. 

They  travelled  on  to  Dunbarton,  where  they  had  resolved 
to  leave  the  equipage,  and  to  hire  a  boat  to  take  them  to  the 
shores  near  the  manse,  as  the  Gare  Loch  lay  betwixt  them 
and  that  point,  besides  the  impossibility  of  travelling  in  that 
district  with  wheel-carriages.  Sir  George's  valet,  a  man  of 
trust,  accompanied  them,  as  also  a  footman ;  the  grooms  were 
left  with  the  carriage.  Just  as  this  arrangement  was  com- 
pleted, which  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  an  ex- 
press arrived  from  Sir  George's  agent  in  Edinburgh,  with  a 
packet,  which  he  opened  and  read  with  great  attention,  ap- 
pearing much  interested  and  agitated  by  the  contents.  The 
packet  had  been  despatched  very  soon  after  their  leaving  Edin- 
burgh, but  the  messenger  had  missed  the  travellers  by  passing 
through  Mid-Calder  in  the  night,  and  overshot  his  errand  by 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


585 


getting  to  Koseneath  before  them.  He  was  now  on  his  return, 
after  having  waited  more  than  four-and-twenty  hours.  Sir 
George  Staunton  instantly  wrote  back  an  answer,  and,  reward- 
ing the  messenger  liberally,  desired  him  not  to  sleep  till  he 
placed  it  in  his  agent's  hands. 

At  length  they  embarked  in  the  boat,  which  had  waited  for 
them  some  time.  During  their  voyage,  which  was  slow,  for 
they  were  obliged  to  row  the  whole  way,  and  often  against  the 
tide,  Sir  George  Staunton's  inquiries  ran  chiefly  on  the  subject 
of  the  Highland  banditti  who  had  infested  that  country  since 
the  year  1745.  Butler  informed  him  that  many  of  them  were 
not  native  Highlanders,  but  gipsies,  tinkers,  and  other  men  of 
desperate  fortunes,  who  had  taken  advantage  of  the  confusion 
introduced  by  the  civil  war,  the  general  discontent  of  the 
mountaineers,  and  the  unsettled  state  of  police,  to  practise 
their  plundering  trade  with  more  audacity.  Sir  George  next 
inquired  into  their  lives,  their  habits,  whether  the  violences 
which  they  committed  were  not  sometimes  atoned  for  by  acts 
of  generosity,  and  whether  they  did  not  possess  the  virtues, 
as  well  as  the  vices,  of  savage  tribes. 

Butler  answered,  that  certainly  they  did  sometimes  show 
sparks  of  generosity,  of  which  even  the  worst  class  of  male- 
factors are  seldom  utterly  divested ;  but  that  their  evil  pro- 
pensities were  certain  and  regular  principles  of  action,  while 
any  occasional  burst  of  virtuous  feeling  was  only  a  transient 
impulse  not  to  be  reckoned  upon,  and  excited  probably  by 
some  singular  and  unusual  concatenation  of  circumstances. 
In  discussing  these  inquiries,  which  Sir  George  pursued  with 
an  apparent  eagerness  that  rather  surprised  Butler,  the  latter 
chanced  to  mention  the  name  of  Donacha  Dhu  na  Dunaigh, 
with  which  the  reader  is  already  acquainted.  Sir  George 
caught  the  sound  up  eagerly,  and  as  if  it  conveyed  particular 
interest  to  his  ear.  He  made  the  most  minute  inquiries  con- 
cerning the  man  when  he  mentioned,  the  number  of  his  gang, 
and  even  the  appearance  of  those  who  belonged  to  it.  Upon 
these  points  Butler  could  give  little  answer.  The  man  had  a 
name  among  the  lower  class,  but  his  exploits  were  consid- 
erably exaggerated;  he  had  always  one  or  two  fellows  with 


586 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


him,  but  never  aspired  to  the  command  of  above  three  or  four. 
In  short,  he  knew  little  about  him,  and  the  small  acquaintance 
he  had,  had  by  no  means  inclined  him  to  desire  more. 

"Nevertheless,  I  should  like  to  see  him  some  of  these 
days." 

"  That  would  be  a  dangerous  meeting,  Sir  George,  unless 
you  mean  we  are  to  see  him  receive  his  deserts  from  the  law, 
and  then  it  were  a  melancholy  one. " 

"  Use  every  man  according  to  his  deserts,  Mr.  Butler,  and 
who  shall  escape  whipping?  But  I  am  talking  riddles  to  you. 
I  will  explain  the  more  fully  to  you  when  I  have  spoken  over 
the  subject  with  Lady  Staunton.  Pull  away,  my  lads,"  he 
added,  addressing  himself  to  the  rowers ;  "  the  clouds  threaten 
us  with  a  storm." 

In  fact,  the  dead  and  heavy  closeness  of  the  air,  the  huge 
piles  of  clouds  which  assembled  in  the  western  horizon,  and 
glowed  like  a  furnace  under  the  influence  of  the  setting  sun, 
that  awful  stillness  in  which  nature  seems  to  expect  the  thun- 
derburst,  as  a  condemned  soldier  waits  for  the  platoon-fire 
which  is  to  stretch  him  on  the  earth — all  betokened  a  speedy 
storm.  Large  broad  drops  fell  from  time  to  time,  and  induced 
the  gentlemen  to  assume  the  boat-cloaks ;  but  the  rain  again 
ceased,  and  the  oppressive  heat,  so  unusual  in  Scotland  in  the 
end  of  May,  inclined  them  to  throw  them  aside.  "  There  is 
something  solemn  in  this  delay  of  the  storm, "  said  Sir  George ; 
"  it  seems  as  if  it  suspended  its  peal  till  it  solemnised  some 
important  event  in  the  world  below." 

"Alas!"  replied  Butler,  "what  are  we,  that  the  laws  of 
nature  should  correspond  in  their  march  with  our  ephemeral 
deeds  or  sufferings?  The  clouds  will  burst  when  surcharged 
with  the  electric  fluid,  whether  a  goat  is  falling  at  that  instant 
from  the  cliffs  of  Arran  or  a  hero  expiring  on  the  field  of  battle 
he  has  won." 

"  The  mind  delights  to  deem  it  otherwise, "  said  Sir  George 
Staunton ;  "  and  to  dwell  on  the  fate  of  humanity  as  on  that 
which  is  the  prime  central  movement  of  the  mighty  machine. 
We  love  not  to  think  that  we  shall  mix  with  the  ages  that  have 
gone  before  us,  as  these  broad  black  raindrops  mingle  with  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


587 


waste  of  waters,  making  a  trifling  and  momentary  eddy,  and 
are  then  lost  for  ever." 

"  For  ever !  We  are  not — we  cannot  be  lost  for  ever,"  said 
Butler,  looking  upward ;  "  death  is  to  us  change,  not  consum- 
mation, and  the  commencement  of  a  new  existence,  corre- 
sponding in  character  to  the  deeds  which  we  have  done  in 
the  body." 

While  they  agitated  these  grave  subjects,  to  which  the 
solemnity  of  the  approaching  storm  naturally  led  them,  their 
voyage  threatened  to  be  more  tedious  than  they  expected,  for 
gusts  of  wind,  which  rose  and  fell  with  sudden  impetuosity, 
swept  the  bosom  of  the  firth,  and  impended  the  efforts  of  the 
rowers.  They  had  now  only  to  double  a  small  headland  in 
order  to  get  to  the  proper  landing-place  in  the  mouth  of  the 
little  river;  but  in  the  state  of  the  weather,  and  the  boat 
being  heavy,  this  was  like  to  be  a  work  of  time,  and  in  the 
mean  while  they  must  necessarily  be  exposed  to  the  storm. 

"Could  we  not  land  on  this  side  of  the  headland,"  asked 
Sir  George,  "and  so  gain  some  shelter?" 

Butler  knew  of  no  landing-place,  at  least  none  affording  a 
convenient  or  even  practicable  passage  up  the  rocks  which 
surrounded  the  shore. 

"Think  again,"  said  Sir  George  Staunton;  "the  storm  will 
soon  be  violent." 

"Hout,  ay,"  said  one  of  the  boatmen,  "there's  the  Caird's 
Cove ;  but  we  dinna  tell  the  minister  about  it,  and  I  am  no 
sure  if  I  can  steer  the  boat  to  it,  the  bay  is  sae  fu?  o'  shoals 
and  sunk  rocks." 

"  Try,"  said  Sir  George,  "  and  I  will  give  you  half-a-guinea." 

The  old  fellow  took  the  helm,  and  observed :  "  That  if  they 
could  get  in,  there  was  a  steep  path  up  from  the  beach,  and 
half  au  hour's  walk  from  thence  to  the  manse." 

"Are  you  sure  you  know  the  way?"  said  Butler  to  the  old 
man. 

"I  maybe  kenn'd  it  a  wee  better  fifteen  years  syne,  when 
Dan  die  Wilson  was  in  the  firth  wi'  his  clean -ganging  lugger. 
I  mind  Dandie  had  a  wild  young  Englisher  wi'  him,  that  they 
ca'd  " 


588 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"If  you  chatter  so  much/'  said  Sir  George  Staunton,  "you 
will  have  the  boat  on  the  Grindstone ;  bring  that  white  rock 
in  a  line  with  the  steeple." 

"  By  G — , "  said  the  veteran,  staring,  "  I  think  your  honour 
kens  the  bay  as  weel  as  me.  Your  honour's  nose  has  been  on 
the  Grindstane  ere  now,  I'm  thinking." 

As  they  spoke  thus,  they  approached  the  little  cove,  which, 
concealed  behind  crags,  and  defended  on  every  point  by  shal- 
lows and  sunken  rocks,  could  scarce  be  discovered  or  ap- 
proached, except  by  those  intimate  with  the  navigation.  An 
old  shattered  boat  was  already  drawn  up  on  the  beach  within 
the  cove,  close  beneath  the  trees,  and  with  precautions  for  con- 
cealment. 

Upon  observing  this  vessel,  Butler  remarked  to  his  compan- 
ion :  "  It  is  impossible  for  you  to  conceive,  Sir  George,  the  diffi- 
culty I  have  had  with  my  poor  poeple,  in  teaching  them  the 
guilt  and  the  danger  of  this  contraband  trade ;  yet  they  have 
perpetually  before  their  eyes  all  its  dangerous  consequences. 
I  do  not  know  anything  that  more  effectually  depraves  and 
ruins  their  moral  and  religious  principles." 

Sir  George  forced  himself  to  say  something  in  a  low  voice, 
about  the  spirit  of  adventure  natural  to  youth,  and  that  un- 
questionably many  would  become  wiser  as  they  grew  older. 

"  Too  seldom,  sir, "  replied  Butler.  "  If  they  have  been 
deeply  engaged,  and  especially  if  they  have  mingled  in  the 
scenes  of  violence  and  blood  to  which  their  occupation  nat- 
urally leads,  I  have  observed  that,  sooner  or  later,  they  come 
to  an  evil  end.  Experience,  as  well  as  Scripture,  teaches  us, 
Sir  George,  that  mischief  shall  hunt  the  violent  man,  and  that 
the  bloodthirsty  man  shall  not  live  half  his  days.  But  take 
my  arm  to  help  you  ashore." 

Sir  George  needed  assistance,  for  he  was  contrasting  in  his 
altered  thought  the  different  feelings  of  mind  and  frame  with 
which  he  had  formerly  frequented  the  same  place.  As  they 
landed,  a  low  growl  of  thunder  was  heard  at  a  distance. 

"That  is  ominous,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  Sir  George. 

"  Intonuit  Icevum :  it  is  ominous  of  good,  then, "  answered 
Butler,  smiling. 


THE  HEAKT  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  589 

The  boatmen  were  ordered  to  make  the  best  of  their  way 
round  the  headland  to  the  ordinary  landing-place;  and  the 
two  gentlemen,  followed  by  their  servant,  sought  their  way 
by  a  blind  and  tangled  path,  through  a  close  copsewood,  to 
the  manse  of  Knocktarlitie,  where  their  arrival  was  anxiously 
expected. 

The  sisters  in  vain  had  expected  their  husbands'  return  on 
the  preceding  day,  which  was  that  appointed  by  Sir  George's 
letter.  The  delay  of  the  travellers  at  Calder  had  occasioned 
this  breach  of  appointment.  The  inhabitants  of  the  manse 
began  even  to  doubt  whether  they  would  arrive  on  the  present 
day.  Lady  Staunton  felt  this  hope  of  delay  as  a  brief  re- 
prieve; for  she  dreaded  the  pangs  which  her  husband's  pride 
must  undergo  at  meeting  with  a  sister-in-law  to  whom  the 
whole  of  his  unhappy  and  dishonourable  history  was  too  well 
known.  She  knew,  whatever  force  or  constraint  he  might  put 
upon  his  feelings  in  public,  that  she  herself  must  be  doomed 
to  see  them  display  themselves  in  full  vehemence  in  secret — 
consume  his  health,  destroy  his  temper,  and  render  him  at 
once  an  object  of  dread  and  compassion.  Again  and  again 
she  cautioned  Jeanie  to  display  no  tokens  of  recognition,  but 
to  receive  him  as  a  perfect  stranger,  and  again  and  again 
Jeanie  renewed  her  promise  to  comply  with  her  wishes. 

Jeanie  herself  could  not  fail  to  bestow  an  anxious  thought 
on  the  awkwardness  of  the  approaching  meeting;  but  her  con- 
science was  ungalled,  and  then  she  was  cumbered  with  many 
household  cares  of  an  unusual  nature,  which,  joined  to  the 
anxious  wish  once  more  to  see  Butler,  after  an  absence  of  un- 
usual length,  made  her  extremely  desirous  that  the  travellers 
should  arrive  as  soon  as  possible.  And — why  should  I  dis- 
guise the  truth? — ever  and  anon  a  thought  stole  across  her 
mind  that  her  gala  dinner  had  now  been  postponed  for  two 
days ;  and  how  few  of  the  dishes,  after  every  art  of  her  simple 
cuisine  had  been  exerted  to  dress  them,  could  with  any  credit 
or  propriety  appear  again  upon  the  third;  and  what  was  she 
to  do  with  the  rest?  Upon  this  last  subject  she  was  saved 
the  trouble  of  farther  deliberation,  by  the  sudden  appearance 


590 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  the  Captain  at  the  head  of  half  a  dozen  stout  fellows,  dressed 
and  armed  in  the  Highland  fashion. 

"  Goot-morrow  morning  to  ye,  Leddy  Staunton,  and  I  hope 
I  hae  the  pleasure  to  see  ye  weel?  And  goot-morrow  to  you, 
goot  Mrs.  Putler;  I  do  peg  you  will  order  some  victuals  and 
ale  and  prandy  for  the  lads,  for  we  hae  peen  out  on  firth  and 
moor  since  afore  daylight,  and  a?  to  no  purpose  neither — Cot 
tarn!" 

So  saying,  he  sate  down,  pushed  back  his  brigadier  wig,  and 
wiped  his  head  with  an  air  of  easy  importance,  totally  regard- 
less of  the  look  of  well-bred  astonishment  by  which  Lady 
Staunton  endeavoured  to  make  him  comprehend  that  he  was 
assuming  too  great  a  liberty. 

"  It  is  some  comfort,  when  one  has  had  a  sair  tussle, "  con- 
tinued the  Captain,  addressing  Lady  Staunton,  with  an  air 
of  gallantry,  "that  it  is  in  a  fair  leddy' s  service,  or  in  the  ser- 
vice of  a  gentleman  whilk  has  a  fair  leddy,  whilk  is  the  same 
thing,  since  serving  the  husband  is  serving  the  wife,  as  Mrs. 
Putler  does  very  weel  know. 99 

"  Eeally,  sir, "  said  Lady  Staunton,  "  as  you  seem  to  intend 
this  compliment  for  me,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  what  interest 
Sir  George  or  I  can  have  in  your  movements  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  Oh  Cot  tarn !  this  is  too  cruel,  my  leddy ;  as  if  it  was  not 
py  special  express  from  his  Grace's  honourable  agent  and 
commissioner  at  Edinburgh,  with  a  warrant  conform,  that  I 
was  to  seek  for  and  apprehend  Donacha  Dhu  na  Dunaigh,  and 
pring  him  pef ore  myself  and  Sir  George  Staunton,  that  he  may 
have  his  deserts,  that  is  to  say,  the  gallows,  whilk  he  has  doubt- 
less deserved,  py  peing  the  means  of  frightening  your  leddy- 
ship,  as  weel  as  for  something  of  less  importance." 

"Frightening  me!"  said  her  ladyship.  "Why,  I  never 
wrote  to  Sir  George  about  my  alarm  at  the  waterfall." 

"  Then  he  must  have  heard  it  otherwise ;  for  what  else  can 
give  him  sic  an  earnest  to  sire  to  see  this  rapscallion,  that  I 
maun  ripe  the  haill  mosses  and  muirs  in  the  country  for  him, 
as  if  I  were  to  get  something  for  finding  him,  when  the  pest 
o?t  might  pe  a  pall  through  my  prains?" 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


591 


"  Can  it  be  really  true  that  it  is  on  Sir  George's  account  that 
you  have  been  attempting  to  apprehend  this  fellow?" 

"  Py  Cot,  it  is  for  no  other  cause  that  I  know  than  his  hon- 
our's pleasure;  for  the  creature  might  hae  gone  on  in  a  decent 
quiet  way  for  me,  sae  lang  as  he  respectit  the  Duke's  pounds; 
put  reason  goot  he  suld  be  taen,  and  hangit  to  poot,  if  it  may 
pleasure  ony  honourable  shentleman  that  is  the  Duke's  friend. 
Sae  I  got  the  express  over  night,  and  I  caused  warn  half  a 
score  of  pretty  lads,  and  was  up  in  the  morning  pefore  the 
sun,  and  I  garr'd  the  lads  take  their  kilts  and  short  coats." 

"I  wonder  you  did  that,  Captain,"  said  Mrs.  Butler,  "when 
you  know  the  Act  of  Parliament  against  wearing  the  Highland 
dress." 

"  Hout,  tout,  ne'er  fash  your  thumb,  Mrs.  Putler.  The  law 
is  put  twa-three  years  auld  yet,  and  is  ower  young  to  hae  come 
our  length;  and,  pesides,  how  is  the  lads  to  climb  the  praes 
wi'  thae  tamn'd  breekens  on  them?  It  makes  me  sick  to  see 
them.  Put  ony  how,  I  thought  I  kenn'd  Donacha's  haunts  gay 
and  weel,  and  I  was  at  the  place  where  he  had  rested  yestreen ; 
for  I  saw  the  leaves  the  limmers  had  lain  on,  and  the  ashes  of 
them ;  by  the  same  token,  there  was  a  pit  greeshoch  purning 
yet.  I  am  thinking  they  got  some  word  out  o'  the  island 
what  was  intended.  I  sought  every  glen  and  cleueh,  as  if  I 
had  been  deer- stalking,  but  teil  a  wauff  of  his  coat-tail  could 
I  see — Cot  tarn!" 

"  He'll  be  away  down  the  firth  to  Cowall,"  said  David;  and 
Reuben,  who  had  been  out  early  that  morning  a-nutting,  ob- 
served, "That  he  had  seen  a  boat  making  for  the  Caird's 
Cove  " ;  a  place  well  known  to  the  boys,  though  their  less  ad- 
venturous father  was  ignorant  of  its  existence. 

"Py  Cot,"  said  Duncan,  "then  I  will  stay  here  no  longer 
than  to  trink  this  very  horn  of  prandy  and  water,  for  it  is 
very  possible  they  will  pe  in  the  wood.  Donacha's  a  clever 
fellow,  and  maype  thinks  it  pest  to  sit  next  the  chimley  when 
the  lum  reeks.  He  thought  naebody  would  look  for  him  sae 
near  hand!  I  peg  your  leddyship  will  excuse  my  aprupt  de- 
parture, as  I  will  return  forthwith,  and  I  will  either  pring 
you  Donacha  in  life  or  else  his  head,  whilk  I  dare  to  say  will 


592 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


be  as  satisfactory.  And  I  hope  to  pass  a  pleasant  evening 
with  your  leddyship ;  and  I  hope  to  have  mine  revenges  on 
Mr.  Putler  at  packgammon,  for  the  four  pennies  whilk  he  won, 
for  he  will  pe  surely  at  home  soon,  or  else  he  will  have  a  wet 
journey,  seeing  it  is  apout  to  pe  a  scud." 

Thus  saying,  with  many  scrapes  and  bows,  and  apologies 
for  leaving  them,  which  were  very  readily  received,  and  reit- 
erated assurances  of  his  speedy  return,  of  the  sincerity  where- 
of Mrs.  Butler  entertained  no  doubt,  so  long  as  her  best  grey- 
beard of  brandy  was  upon  duty,  Duncan  left  the  manse,  col- 
lected his  followers,  and  began  to  scour  the  close  and  entangled 
wood  which  lay  between  the  little  glen  and  the  Caird's  Cove. 
David,  who  was  a  favourite  with  the  Captain,  on  account  of 
his  spirit  and  courage,  took  the  opportunity  of  escaping  to 
attend  the  investigations  of  that  great  man. 


CHAPTER  LIL 

I  did  send  for  thee, 

That  Talbot's  name  might  be  in  thee  revived, 
When  sapless  age  and  weak  unable  limbs 
Should  bring  thy  father  to  his  drooping  chair. 
But — 0  malignant  and  ill-boding  stars ! — 

Henry  VI.  Part  I. 

Duncan  and  his  party  had  not  proceeded  very  far  in  the 
direction  of  the  Caird's  Cove  before  they  heard  a  shot,  which 
was  quickly  followed  by  one  or  two  others.  "  Some  tamn'd 
villains  among  the  roe-deer,"  said  Duncan;  "look  sharp  out, 
lads." 

The  clash  of  swords  was  next  heard,  and  Duncan  and  his 
myrmidons,  hastening  to  the  spot,  found  Butler  and  Sir 
George  Staunton's  servant  in  the  hands  of  four  ruffians.  Sir 
George  himself  lay  stretched  on  the  ground,  with  his  drawn 
sword  in  his  hand.  Duncan,  who  was  as  brave  as  a  lion,  in- 
stantly fired  his  pistol  at  the  leader  of  the  band,  unsheathed 
his  sword,  cried  out  to  his  men,  "Claymore!"  and  run  his 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


593 


weapon  through  the  body  of  the  fellow  whom  he  had  pre- 
viously wounded,  who  was  no  other  than  Donacha  Dhu  na 
Dunaigh  himself.  The  other  banditti  were  speedily  overpow- 
ered, excepting  one  young  lad,  who  made  wonderful  resistance 
for  his  years,  and  was  at  length  secured  with  difficulty. 

Butler,  so  soon  as  he  was  liberated  from  the  ruffians,  ran  to 
raise  Sir  George  Staunton ;  but  life  had  wholly  left  him. 

"A  creat  misfortune,"  said  Duncan;  "I  think  it  will  pe 
pest  that  I  go  forward  to  intimate  it  to  the  coot  leddy.  Tavie, 
my  dear,  you  hae  smelled  pouther  for  the  first  time  this  day. 
Take  my  sword  and  hack  off  Donacha' s  head,  whilk  will  pe 
coot  practice  for  you  against  the  time  you  may  wish  to  do  the 
same  kindness  to  a  living  shentleman ;  or  hould,  as  your  father 
does  not  approve,  you  may  leave  it  alone,  as  he  will  pe  a  greater 
object  of  satisfaction  to  Leddy  Staunton  to  see  him  entire;  and 
I  hope  she  will  do  me  the  credit  to  pelieve  that  I  can  afenge 
a  shentleman' s  plood  fery  speedily  and  well." 

Such  was  the  observation  of  a  man  too  much  accustomed  to 
the  ancient  state  of  manners  in  the  Highlands  to  look  upon 
the  issue  of  such  a  skirmish  as  anything  worthy  of  wonder  or 
emotion. 

We  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  very  contrary  effect 
which  the  unexpected  disaster  produced  upon  Lady  Staunton, 
when  the  bloody  corpse  of  her  husband  was  brought  to  the 
house,  where  she  expected  to  meet  him  alive  and  well.  All 
was  forgotten  but  that  he  was  the  lover  of  her  youth;  and, 
whatever  were  his  faults  to  the  world,  that  he  had  towards  her 
exhibited  only  those  that  arose  from  the  inequality  of  spirits 
and  temper  incident  to  a  situation  of  unparalleled  difficulty. 
In  the  vivacity  of  her  grief  she  gave  way  to  all  the  natural 
irritability  of  her  temper ;  shriek  followed  shriek,  and  swoon 
succeeded  to  swoon.  It  required  all  Jeanie's  watchful  affec- 
tion to  prevent  her  from  making  known,  in  these  paroxysms 
of  affliction,  much  which  it  was  of  the  highest  importance  that 
she  should  keep  secret. 

At  length  silence  and  exhaustion  succeeded  to  frenzy,  and 
Jeanie  stole  out  to  take  counsel  with  her  husband,  and  to  ex- 
hort him  to  anticipate  the  Captain's  interference  by  taking 
38 


594 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


possession  in  Lady  Staunton's  name  of  the  private  papers  of 
her  deceased  husband.  To  the  utter  astonishment  of  Butler, 
she  now  for  the  first  time  explained  the  relation  betwixt  her- 
self and  Lady  Staunton,  which  authorised,  nay,  demanded, 
that  he  should  prevent  any  stranger  from  being  unnecessarily 
made  acquainted  with  her  family  affairs.  It  was  in  such  a 
crisis  that  Jeanie's  active  and  undaunted  habits  of  virtuous 
exertion  were  most  conspicuous.  While  the  Captain's  atten- 
tion was  still  engaged  by  a  prolonged  refreshment,  and  a  very 
tedious  examination,  in  Gaelic  and  English,  of  all  the  prison- 
ers, and  every  other  witness  of  the  fatal  transaction,  she  had 
the  body  of  her  brother-in-law  undressed  and  properly  dis- 
posed. It  then  appeared,  from  the  crucifix,  the  beads,  and 
the  shirt  of  hair  which  he  wore  next  his  person,  that  his  sense 
of  guilt  had  induced  him  to  receive  the  dogmata  of  a  religion 
which  pretends,  by  the  maceration  of  the  body,  to  expiate  the 
crimes  of  the  soul.  In  the  packet  of  papers  which  the  express 
had  brought  to  Sir  George  Staunton  from  Edinburgh,  and  which 
Butler,  authorised  by  his  connexion  with  the  deceased,  did 
not  scruple  to  examine,  he  found  new  and  astonishing  intelli- 
gence, which  gave  him  reason  to  thank  God  he  had  taken  that 
measure. 

Eatcliffe,  to  whom  all  sorts  of  misdeeds  and  misdoers  were 
familiar,  instigated  by  the  promised  reward,  soon  found  him- 
self in  a  condition  to  trace  the  infant  of  these  unhappy  parents. 
The  woman  to  whom  Meg  Murdockson  had  sold  that  most  un- 
fortunate child  had  made  it  the  companion  of  her  wanderings 
and  her  beggary  until  he  was  about  seven  or  eight  years  old, 
when,  as  Eatcliffe  learned  from  a  companion  of  hers,  then  in 
the  correction-house  of  Edinburgh,  she  sold  him  in  her  turn 
to  Donacha  Dhu  na  Dunaigh.  This  man,  to  whom  no  act  of 
mischief  was  unknown,  was  occasionally  an  agent  in  a  horrible 
trade  then  carried  on  betwixt  Scotland  and  America,  for  sup- 
plying the  plantations  with  servants,  by  means  of  kidnapping, 
as  it  was  termed,  both  men  and  women,  but  especially  children 
under  age.  Here  Eatcliffe  lost  sight  of  the  boy,  but  had  no 
doubt  but  Donacha  Dhu  could  give  an  account  of  him.  The 
gentleman  of  the  law,  so  often  mentioned,  despatched  there- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


595 


fore  an  express  with  a  letter  to  Sir  George  Staunton,  and 
another  covering  a  warrant  for  apprehension  of  Donacha,  with 
instructions  to  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder  to  exert  his  utmost 
energy  for  that  purpose. 

Possessed  of  this  information,  and  with  a  mind  agitated  by 
the  most  gloomy  apprehensions,  Butler  now  joined  the  Cap- 
tain, and  obtained  from  him  with  some  difficulty  a  sight  of 
the  examinations.  These,  with  a  few  questions  to  the  elder 
of  the  prisoners,  soon  confirmed  the  most  dreadful  of  Butler's 
anticipations.  We  give  the  heads  of  the  information,  without 
descending  into  minute  details. 

Donacha  Dhu  had  indeed  purchased  EffiVs  unhappy  child, 
with  the  purpose  of  selling  it  to  the  American  traders,  whom 
he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  supplying  with  human  flesh.  But 
no  opportunity  occurred  for  some  time ;  and  the  boy,  who  was 
known  by  the  name  of  "  The  Whistler, "  made  some  impression 
on  the  heart  and  affections  even  of  this  rude  savage,  perhaps 
because  he  saw  in  him  flashes  of  a  spirit  as  fierce  and  vindic- 
tive as  his  own.  When  Donacha  struck  or  threatened  him — 
a  very  common  occurrence — he  did  not  answer  with  complaints 
and  entreaties  like  other  children,  but  with  oaths  and  efforts 
at  revenge ;  he  had  all  the  wild  merit,  too,  by  which  Woggar- 
wolfe's  arrow-bearing  page  won  the  hard  heart  of  his  master: 

Like  a  wild  cub,  rear'd  at  the  ruffian's  feet, 
He  could  say  biting  jests,  bold  ditties  sing, 
And  quaff  his  foaming  bumper  at  the  board, 
With  all  the  mockery  of  a  little  man.1 

In  short,  as  Donacha  Dhu  said,  the  Whistler  was  a  born 
imp  of  Satan,  and  therefore  he  should  never  leave  him.  Ac- 
cordingly, from  his  eleventh  year  forward,  he  was  one  of  the 
band,  and  often  engaged  in  acts  of  violence.  The  last  of  these 
was  more  immediately  occasioned  by  the  researches  which  the 
Whistler's  real  father  made  after  him  whom  he  had  been 
taught  to  consider  as  such.  Donacha  Dhu's  fears  had  been 
for  some  time  excited  by  the  strength  of  the  means  which  be- 
gan now  to  be  employed  against  persons  of  his  description. 
He  was  sensible  he  existed  only  by  the  precarious  indulgence 

1  Ethwald. 


596 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


of  his  namesake,  Duncan  of  Knockdunder,  who  was  used  to 
boast  that  he  could  put  him  down  or  string  him  up  when  he 
had  a  mind.  He  resolved  to  leave  the  kingdom  by  means  of 
one  of  those  sloops  which  were  engaged  in  the  traffic  of  his 
old  kidnapping  friends,  and  which  was  about  to  sail  for 
America;  but  he  was  desirous  first  to  strike  a  bold  stroke. 

The  ruffian's  cupidity  was  excited  by  the  intelligence  that 
a  wealthy  Englishman  was  coming  to  the  manse.  He  had 
neither  forgotten  the  Whistler's  report  of  the  gold  he  had  seen 
in  Lady  Staunton's  purse,  nor  his  old  vow  of  revenge  against 
the  minister ;  and,  to  bring  the  whole  to  a  point,  he  conceived 
the  hope  of  appropriating  the  money  which,  according  to  the 
general  report  of  the  country,  the  minister  was  to  bring  from 
Edinburgh  to  pay  for  his  new  purchase.  While  he  was  con- 
sidering how  he  might  best  accomplish  his  purpose,  he  received 
the  intelligence  from  one  quarter  that  the  vessel  in  which  he 
proposed  to  sail  was  to  sail  immediately  from  Greenock ;  from 
another,  that  the  minister  and  a  rich  English  lord,  with  a  great 
many  thousand  pounds,  were  expected  the  next  evening  at  the 
manse ;  and  from  a  third,  that  he  must  consult  his  safety  by 
leaving  his  ordinary  haunts  as  soon  as  possible,  for  that  the 
Captain  had  ordered  out  a  party  to  scour  the  glens  for  him  at 
break  of  day.  Donacha  laid  his  plans  with  promptitude  and 
decision.  He  embarked  with  the  Whistler  and  two  others  of 
his  band  (whom,  by  the  by,  he  meant  to  sell  to  the  kidnap- 
pers), and  set  sail  for  the  Caird's  Cove.  He  intended  to  lurk 
till  nightfall  in  the  wood  adjoining  to  this  place,  which  he 
thought  was  too  near  the  habitation  of  men  to  excite  the  sus- 
picion of  Duncan  Knock,  then  break  into  Butler's  peaceful 
habitation,  and  flesh  at  once  his  appetite  for  plunder  and  re- 
venge. W^hen  his  villainy  was  accomplished,  his  boat  was  to 
convey  him  to  the  vessel,  which,  according  to  previous  agree- 
ment with  the  master,  was  instantly  to  set  sail. 

This  desperate  design  would  probably  have  succeeded,  but 
for  the  ruffians  being  discovered  in  their  lurking-place  by  Sir 
George  Staunton  and  Butler,  in  their  accidental  walk  from  the 
Caird's  Cove  towards  the  manse.  Finding  himself  detected, 
and  at  the  same  time  observing  that  the  servant  carried  a 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


597 


casket,  or  strong-box,  Donacha  conceived  that  both  his  prize 
and  his  victims  were  within  his  power,  and  attacked  the  trav- 
ellers without  hesitation.  Shots  were  fired,  and  swords  drawn 
on  both  sides ;  Sir  George  Staunton  offered  the  bravest  resist- 
ance, till  he  fell,  as  there  was  too  much  reason  to  believe,  by 
the  hand  of  a  son  so  long  sought,  and  now  at  length  so  un- 
happily met. 

While  Butler  was  half-stunned  with  this  intelligence,  the 
hoarse  voice  of  Knockdunder  added  to  his  consternation :  "  I 
will  take  the  liperty  to  take  down  the  pell-ropes,  Mr.  Putler, 
as  I  must  pe  taking  order  to  hang  these  idle  people  up  to-mor- 
row morning,  to  teach  them  more  consideration  in  their  doings 
in  future." 

Butler  entreated  him  to  remember  the  act  abolishing  the 
heritable  jurisdictions,  and  that  he  ought  to  send  them  to 
Glasgow  or  Inverary,  to  be  tried  by  the  circuit. 

Duncan  scorned  the  proposal. 

"The  Jurisdiction  Act,"  he  said,  "had  nothing  to  do  put 
with  the  rebels,  and  specially  not  with  Argyle's  country;  and 
he  would  hang  the  men  up  all  three  in  one  row  before  coot 
Leddy  Staunton's  windows,  which  would  be  a  creat  comfort 
to  her  in  the  morning  to  see  that  the  coot  gentleman,  her 
husband,  had  been  suitably  afenged." 

And  the  utmost  length  that  Butler's  most  earnest  entreaties 
could  prevail  was,  that  he  would  reserve  "  the  twa  pig  carles 
for  the  circuit,  but  as  for  him  they  ca'd  the  Fustier,  he  should 
try  how  he  could  fustle  in  a  swinging  tow,  for  it  suldna  be  said 
that  a  shentleman,  friend  to  the  Duke,  was  killed  in  his  coun- 
try, and  his  people  didna  take  at  least  twa  lives  for  ane." 

Butler  entreated  him  to  spare  the  victim  for  his  soul's  sake. 
But  Knockdunder  answered :  "  That  the  soul  of  such  a  scum 
had  been  long  the  tefil's  property,  and  that,  Cot  tarn!  he  was 
determined  to  gif  the  tefil  his  due. " 

All  persuasion  was  in  vain,  and  Duncan  issued  his  mandate 
for  execution  on  the  succeeding  morning.  The  child  of  guilt 
and  misery  was  separated  from  his  companions,  strongly  pin- 
ioned, and  committed  to  a  separate  room,  of  which  the  Captain 
kept  the  key. 


598 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


In  the  silence  of  the  night,  however,  Mrs.  Butler  arose,  re- 
solved, if  possible,  to  avert,  at  least  to  delay,  the  fate  which 
hung  over  her  nephew,  especially  if,  upon  conversing  with 
him,  she  should  see  any  hope  of  his  being  brought  to  better 
temper.  She  had  a  master-key  that  opened  every  lock  in  the 
house ;  and  at  midnight,  when  all  was  still,  she  stood  before 
the  eyes  of  the  astonished  young  savage,  as,  hard  bound  with 
cords,  he  lay,  like  a  sheep  designed  for  slaughter,  upon  a 
quantity  of  the  refuse  of  flax  which  filled  a  corner  in  the 
apartment.  Amid  features  sunburnt,  tawny,  grimed  with 
dirt,  and  obscured  by  his  shaggy  hair  of  a  rusted  black  colour, 
Jeanie  tried  in  vain  to  trace  the  likeness  of  either  of  his  very 
handsome  parents.  Yet  how  could  she  refuse  compassion  to 
a  creature  so  young  and  so  wretched — so  much  more  wretched 
than  even  he  himself  could  be  aw^are  of,  since  the  murder  he 
had  too  probably  committed  with  his  own  hand,  but  in  which 
he  had  at  any  rate  participated,  was  in  fact  a  parricide.  She 
placed  food  on  a  table  near  him,  raised  him,  and  slacked  the 
cords  on  his  arms,  so  as  to  permit  him  to  feed  himself.  He 
stretched  out  his  hands,  still  smeared  with  blood,  perhaps 
that  of  his  father,  and  he  ate  voraciously  and  in  silence. 

"  What  is  your  first  name?"  said  Jeanie,  by  way  of  open- 
ing the  conversation. 

"The  Whistler." 

"  But  your  Christian  name,  by  which  you  were  baptized?" 

"  I  never  was  baptized  that  I  know  of.  I  have  no  other 
name  than  the  Whistler." 

"Poor  unhappy  abandoned  lad!"  said  Jeanie.  "What 
would  ye  do  if  you  could  escape  from  this  place,  and  the  death 
you  are  to  die  to-morrow  morning?" 

"  Join  wi'  Bob  Boy,  or  wi'  Sergeant  More  Cameron  (noted 
freebooters  at  that  time),  and  revenge  Donacha's  death  on  all 
and  sundry." 

"Oh,  ye  unhappy  boy,"  said  Jeanie,  "do  ye  ken  what  will 
come  o?  ye  when  ye  die?" 

"  I  shall  neither  feel  cauld  nor  hunger  more, "  said  the  youth, 
doggedly. 

"  To  let  him  be  execute  in  this  dreadful  state  of  mind  would 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


599 


be  to  destroy  baith  body  and  soul,  and  to  let  him  gang  I  dare 
not;  what  will  be  done?  But  he  is  my  sister's  son — my  own 
nephew — our  flesh  and  blood;  and  his  hands  and  feet  are 
yerked  as  tight  as  cords  can  be  drawn.  Whistler,  do  the 
cords  hurt  you?" 
"Very  much." 

"But,  if  I  were  to  slacken  them,  you  would  harm  me?" 

"  No,  I  would  not ;  you  never  harmed  me  or  mine. " 

"  There  may  be  good  in  him  yet, "  thought  Jeanie ;  "  I  will 
try  fair  play  with  him." 

She  cut  his  bonds.  He  stood  upright,  looked  round  with  a 
laugh  of  wild  exultation,  clapped  his  hands  together,  and 
sprung  from  the  ground,  as  if  in  transport  on  finding  himself 
at  liberty.  He  looked  so  wild  that  Jeanie  trembled  at  what 
she  had  done. 

"Let  me  out,"  said  the  young  savage. 

"  I  wunna,  unless  you  promise  " 

"  Then  I'll  make  you  glad  to  let  us  both  out." 

He  seized  the  lighted  candle  and  threw  it  among  the  flax, 
which  was  instantly  in  a  flame.  Jeanie  screamed,  and  ran 
out  of  the  room ;  the  prisoner  rushed  past  her,  threw  open  a 
window  in  the  passage,  jumped  into  the  garden,  sprung  over 
its  inclosure,  bounded  through  the  woods  like  a  deer,  and 
gained  the  seashore.  Meantime  the  fire  was  extinguished; 
but  the  prisoner  was  sought  in  vain.  As  Jeanie  kept  her  own 
secret,  the  share  she  had  in  his  escape  was  not  discovered ;  but 
they  learned  his  fate  some  time  afterwards :  it  was  as  wild  as 
his  life  had  hitherto  been. 

The  anxious  inquiries  of  Butler  at  length  learned  that  the 
youth  had  gained  the  ship  in  which  his  master,  Donacha,  had 
designed  to  embark.  But  the  avaricious  shipmaster,  inured 
by  his  evil  trade  to  every  species  of  treachery,  and  disap- 
pointed of  the  rich  booty  which  Donacha  had  proposed  to 
bring  aboard,  secured  the  person  of  the  fugitive,  and  having 
transported  him  to  America,  sold  him  as  a  slave,  or  indented 
servant,  to  a  Virginian  planter  far  up  the  country.  When 
these  tidings  reached  Butler,  he  sent  over  to  America  a  suffi- 
cient sum  to  redeem  the  lad  from  slavery,  with  instructions 


600 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


that  measures  should  be  taken  for  improving  his  mind,  restrain- 
ing his  evil  propensities,  and  encouraging  whatever  good  might 
appear  in  his  character.  But  this  aid  came  too  late.  The 
young  man  had  headed  a  conspiracy  in  which  his  inhuman 
master  was  put  to  death,  and  had  then  fled  to  the  next  tribe 
of  wild  Indians.  He  was  never  more  heard  of;  and  it  may 
therefore  be  presumed  that  he  lived  and  died  after  the  manner 
of  that  savage  people,  with  whom  his  previous  habits  had 
well  fitted  him  to  associate. 

All  hopes  of  the  young  man's  reformation  being  now  ended, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Butler  thought  it  could  serve  no  purpose  to  ex- 
plain to  Lady  Staunton  a  history  so  full  of  horror.  She  re- 
mained their  guest  more  than  a  year,  during  the  greater  part 
of  which  period  her  grief  was  excessive.  In  the  latter  months, 
it  assumed  the  appearance  of  listlessness  and  low  spirits,  which 
the  monotony  of  her  sister's  quiet  establishment  afforded  no 
means  of  dissipating.  Erne,  from  her  earliest  youth,  was 
never  formed  for  a  quiet  low  content.  Far  different  from  her 
sister,  she  required  the  dissipation  of  society  to  divert  her  sor- 
row or  enhance  her  joy.  She  left  the  seclusion  of  Knock- 
tarlitie  with  tears  of  sincere  affection,  and  after  heaping  its 
inmates  with  all  she  could  think  of  that  might  be  valuable 
in  their  eyes.  But  she  did  leave  it ;  and  when  the  anguish 
of  the  parting  was  over  her  departure  was  a  relief  to  both 
sisters. 

The  family  at  the  manse  of  Knocktarlitie,  in  their  own 
quiet  happiness,  heard  of  the  well-dowered  and  beautiful 
Lady  Staunton  resuming  her  place  in  the  fashionable  world. 
They  learned  it  by  more  substantial  proofs,  for  David  received 
a  commission ;  and  as  the  military  spirit  of  Bible  Butler  seemed 
to  have  revived  in  him,  his  good  behaviour  qualified  the  envy 
of  five  hundred  young  Highland  cadets,  "  come  of  good  houses, " 
who  were  astonished  at  the  rapidity  of  his  promotion.  Eeu- 
ben  followed  the  law,  and  rose  more  slowly,  yet  surely. 
Euphemia  Butler,  whose  fortune,  augmented  by  her  aunt's 
generosity,  and  added  to  her  own  beauty,  rendered  her  no 
small  prize,  married  a  Highland  laird,  who  never  asked  the 
name  of  her  grandfather,  and  was  loaded  on  the  occasion  with 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


601 


presents  from  Lady  Staunton,  which  made  her  the  envy  of  all 
the  beauties  in  Dunbarton  and  Argyle-shires. 

After  blazing  nearly  ten  years  in  the  fashionable  world,  and 
hiding,  like  many  of  her  compeers,  an  aching  heart  with  a  gay 
demeanour,  after  declining  repeated  offers  of  the  most  respect- 
able kind  for  a  second  matrimonial  engagement,  Lady  Staunton 
betrayed  the  inward  wound  by  retiring  to  the  Continent  and 
taking  up  her  abode  in  the  convent  where  she  had  received 
her  education.  She  never  took  the  veil,  but  lived  and  died  in 
severe  seclusion,  and  in  the  practice  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
religion,  in  all  its  formal  observances,  vigils,  and  austerities. 

Jeanie  had  so  much  of  her  father's  spirit  as  to  sorrow  bit- 
terly for  this  apostacy,  and  Butler  joined  in  her  regret. 
"  Yet  any  religion,  however  imperfect, "  he  said,  "  was  better 
than  cold  scepticism,  or  the  hurrying  din  of  dissipation,  which 
fills  the  ears  of  worldlings,  until  they  care  for  none  of.  these 
things. " 

Meanwhile,  happy  in  each  other,  in  the  prosperity  of  their 
family,  and  the  love  and  honour  of  all  who  knew  them,  this 
simple  pair  lived  beloved  and  died  lamented. 

j  Eeader — This  tale  will  not  be  told  in  vain,  if  it  shall  be 
found  to  illustrate  the  great  truth  that  guilt,  though  it  may 
attain  temporal  splendour,  can  never  confer  real  happiness; 
that  the  evil  consequences  of  our  crimes  long  survive  their 
commission,  and,  like  the  ghosts  of  the  murdered,  for  ever 
haunt  the  steps  of  the  malefactor ;  and  that  the  paths  of  vir- 
tue, though  seldom  those  of  worldly  greatness,  are  always 
those  of  pleasantness  and  peace. 


L' Envoy,  by  Jedediah  Cleishbothom. 

Thus  concludeth  the  Tale  of  The  Heart  of  Midlothian,  which 
hath  filled  more  pages  than  I  opined.  The  Heart  of  Midlo- 
thian is  now  no  more,  or  rather  it  is  transferred  to  the  extreme 
side  of  the  city,  even  as  the  Sieur  Jean  Baptiste  Poquelin 


602 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


hath  it,  in  his  pleasant  comedy  called  Le  Medecin  Malgre  ltd, 
where  the  simulated  doctor  wittily  replieth  to  a  charge,  that 
he  had  placed  the  heart  on  the  right  side  instead  of  the  left, 
6  Cela  etoit  autrefois  ainsi,  mais  nous  avons  change  tout  cela. ' 
Of  which  witty  speech,  if  any  reader  shall  demand  the  pur- 
port, I  have  only  to  respond,  that  I  teach  the  French  as  well 
as  the  classical  tongues,  at  the  easy  rate  of  five  shillings  per 
quarter,  as  my  advertisements  are  periodically  making  known 
to  the  public. 


NOTES  TO  THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


Note  1. — Tombstone  to  Helen  Walker,  p.  11. 

On  Helen  Walker's  tombstone  in  Irongray  churchyard,  Dumfriesshire, 
there  is  engraved  the  following  epitaph,  written  by  Sir  Walter  Scott : 

THIS  STONE  WAS  ERECTED 
BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  WAVERLEY 
TO  THE  MEMORY 
OF 

HELEN  WALKER, 

WHO  DIED  IN  THE  YEAR  OF  GOD  1791. 
THIS  HUMBLE   INDIVIDUAL   PRACTISED   IN  REAL  LIFE 
THE  VIRTUES 
WITH  WHICH   FICTION  HAS  INVESTED 
THE  IMAGINARY  CHARACTER  OF 

JEANIE  DEANS; 

REFUSING  THE  SLIGHTEST  DEPARTURE 
FROM  VERACITY, 
EVEN   TO  SAVE  THE  LIFE  OF  A  SISTER, 
SHE  NEVERTHELESS  SHOWED  HER 
KINDNESS  AND  FORTITUDE, 
IN  RESCUING   HER  FROM  THE  SEVERITY  OF  THE  LAW 
AT  THE  EXPENSE  OF  PERSONAL  EXERTIONS 
WHICH  THE  TIME  RENDERED  AS  DIFFICULT 
AS  THE  MOTIVE  WAS  LAUDABLE. 
RESPECT  THE  GRAVE  OF  POVERTY 
WHEN  COMBINED  WITH  LOVE  OF  TRUTH 
AND  DEAR  AFFECTION. 

Erected  October  1831. 

(Laing.) 

Note  2. — Sir  Walter  Scott's  Relations  with  the  Quakers,  p.  16. 

It  is  an  old  proverb,  that  "  many  a  true  word  is  spoken  in  jest."  The 
existence  of  Walter  Scott,  third  son  of  Sir  William  Scott  of  Harden,  is  in- 
structed, as  it  is  called,  by  a  charter  under  the  great  seal,  "  Domino  Wil- 
lielmo  Scott  de  Harden  militi,  et  Waltero  Scott  suo  filio  legitimo  tertio 


604 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


genito  terrarum  de  Roberton."  1  The  munificent  old  gentleman  left  all 
his  four  sons  considerable  estates,  and  settled  those  of  Eildrig  and  Rae- 
burn,  together  with  valuable  possessions  around  Lessudden,  upon  Walter, 
his  third  son,  who  is  ancestor  of  the  Scotts  of  Raeburn,  and  of  the  Author 
of  Waver  ley.  He  appears  to  have  become  a  convert  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
Quakers,  or  Friends,  and  a  great  assertor  of  their  peculiar  tenets.  This 
was  probably  at  the  time  when  George  Fox,  the  celebrated  apostle  of  the 
sect,  made  an  expedition  into  the  south  of  Scotland  about  1657,  on  which 
occasion  he  boasts  that,  41  as  he  first  set  his  horse's  feet  upon  Scottish 
ground,  he  felt  the  seed  of  grace  to  sparkle  about  him  like  innumerable 
sparks  of  fire."  Upon  the  same  occasion,  probably,  Sir  Gideon  Scott  of 
Highchesters,  second  son  of  Sir  William,  immediate  elder  brother  of  Wal- 
ter, and  ancestor  of  the  Author's  friend  and  kinsman,  the  present  repre- 
sentative of  the  family  of  Harden,  also  embraced  the  tenets  of  Quakerism. 
This  last  convert,  Gideon,  entered  into  a  controversy  with  the  Rev.  James 
Kirkton,  author  of  the  Secret  and  True  History  of  the  Church  of  Scotland, 
which  is  noticed  by  my  ingenious  friend,  Mr.  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe, 
in  his  valuable  and  curious  edition  of  that  work,  4to,  1817.  Sir  William 
Scott,  eldest  of  the  brothers,  remained,  amid  the  defection  of  his  two 
younger  brethren,  an  orthodox  member  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and 
used  such  means  for  reclaiming  Walter  of  Raeburn  from  his  heresy  as 
savoured  far  more  of  persecution  than  persuasion.  In  this  he  was  assisted 
by  MacDougal  of  Makerston,  brother  to  Isabella  MacDougal,  the  wife  of 
the  said  Walter,  and  who,  like  her  husband,  had  conformed  to  the  Quaker 
tenets. 

The  interest  possessed  by  Sir  William  Scott  and  Makerston  was  power- 
ful enough  to  procure  the  two  following  acts  of  the  Privy  Council  of  Scot- 
land, directed  against  Walter  of  Raeburn  as  an  heretic  and  convert  to 
Quakerism,  appointing  him  to  be  imprisoned  first  in  Edinburgh  jail,  and 
then  in  that  of  Jedburgh ;  and  his  children  to  be  taken  by  force  from  the 
society  and  direction  of  their  parents,  and  educated  at  a  distance  from 
them,  besides  the  assignment  of  a  sum  for  their  maintenance  sufficient  in 
those  times  to  be  burdensome  to  a  moderate  Scottish  estate : 

*'  Apud  Edin.  vigesimo  Junii  1665. 

"  The  Lords  of  his  Maj.  Privy  Councill  having  receaved  information  that 
Scott  of  Raeburn,  and  Isobel  Mackdougall,  his  wife,  being  infected  with 
the  error  of  Quakerism,  doe  endeavour  to  breid  and  traine  up  William, 
Walter,  and  Isobel  Scotts,  their  children,  in  the  same  profession,  doe  yfore 
give  order  and  command  to  Sir  William  Scott  of  Harden,  the  sd  Raeburn' s 
brother,  to  seperat  and  take  away  the  sds  children  from  the  custody  and 
society  of  the  sds  parents,  and  to  cause  educat  and  bring  them  up  in  his 
owne  house,  or  any  other  convenient  place,  and  ordaines  letters  to  be 
direct  at  the  sd  Sir  William's  instance  against  Raeburn,  for  a  maintenance 
to  the  sds  children,  and  that  the  sd  Sir  Wm.  give  ane  account  of  his  dili- 
gence with  all  conveniency." 

"  Edinburgh,  5th  July  1666. 
"  Anent  a  petition  presented  be  Sir  Wm.  Scott  of  Harden,  for  himself 
and  in  name  and  behalf  of  the  three  children  of  Walter  Scott  of  Raeburn, 


1  See  Douglas's  Baronage,  p.  215. 


NOTES. 


605 


his  brother,  showing  that  the  Lords  of  Councill,  by  ane  act  of  the  22d 
[20th]  day  of  Junii  1665,  did  grant  power  and  warrand  to  the  petitioner  to 
separat  and  take  away  Raeburn' s  children  from  his  family  and  education, 
and  to  breed  them  in  some  convenient  place,  where  they  might  be  free 
from  all  infection  in  yr  younger  years  from  the  princepalls  of  Quakerism, 
and,  for  maintenance  of  the  sds  children,  did  ordain  letters  to  be  direct 
against  Raeburn  ;  and,  seeing  the  petitioner,  in  obedience  to  the  sd  order, 
did  take  away  the  s^  children,  being  two  sonnes  and  a  daughter,  and  after 
some  paines  taken  upon  them  in  his  owne  family,  hes  sent  them  to  the 
city  of  Glasgow,  to  be  bread  at  schooles,  and  there  to  be  principled  with  the 
knowledge  of  the  true  religion,  and  that  it  is  necessary  the  Councill  deter- 
mine what  shall  be  the  maintenance  for  qct  Raeburn's  three  children  may 
be  charged,  as  likewayes  that  Raeburn  himself,  being  now  prisoner  in  the 
Tolbuith  of  Edin.,  where  he  dayley  converses  with  all  the  Quakers  who 
are  prisoners  there,  and  others  who  dayly  resort  to  them,  whereby  he  is 
hardened  in  his  pernitious  opinions  and  principles,  without  all  hope  of 
recovery,  unlesse  he  be  seperate  from  such  pernitious  company,  humbly 
therefore,  desyring  that  the  Councill  might  determine  upon  the  soume  ot 
money  to  be  payed  be  Raeburn,  for  the  education  of  his  children,  to  the 
petitioner,  who  will  be  countable  yrfore ;  and  y4,  in  order  to  his  conver- 
sion, the  place  of  his  imprisonment  may  be  changed.  The  Lords  of  his 
Maj.  Privy  Councill,  having  at  length  heard  and  considered  the  forsd  peti- 
tion, doe  modifie  the  soume  of  two  thousand  pounds  Scots,  to  be  payed 
yearly  at  the  terme  of  Whytsunday  be  the  said  Walter  Scott  of  Raeburn, 
furth  of  his  estate,  to  the  petitioner,  for  the  entertainment  and  education 
of  the  sd  children,  beginning  the  first  termes  payment  yrof  at  Whitsunday 
last  for  the  half  year  preceding,  and  so  furth  yearly,  at  the  sd  terme  of 
Whitsunday  in  tyme  coming  till  furder  orders  ;  and  ordaines  the  sd  Walter 
Scott  of  Raeburn  to  be  transported  from  the  tolbuith  of  Edr  to  the  prison 
of  Jedburgh,  where  his  friends  and  oyrs  may  have  occasion  to  convert  him. 
And  to  the  effect  he  may  be  secured  from  the  practice  of  oyr  Quakers,  the 
s^  Lords  doe  hereby  discharge  the  magistrates  of  Jedburgh  to  suffer  any 
percons  suspect  of  these  principlls  to  have  access  to  him  ;  and  in  case  any 
contraveen,  that  they  secure  yr  persons  till  they  be  yrfore  puneist ;  and 
ordaines  letters  to  be  direct  heirupon  in  form,  as  effeirs." 

Both  the  sons  thus  harshly  separated  from  their  father  proved  good 
scholars.  The  eldest,  William,  who  carried  on  the  line  of  Raeburn,  was, 
like  his  father,  a  deep  Orientalist ;  the  younger,  Walter,  became  a  good 
classical  scholar,  a  great  friend  and  correspondent  of  the  celebrated  Dr. 
Pitcairn,  and  a  Jacobite  so  distinguished  for  zeal  that  he  made  avow  never 
to  shave  his  beard  till  the  restoration  of  the  exiled  family.  This  last  Wal- 
ter Scott  was  the  Authors  great-grandfather. 

There  is  yet  another  link  betwixt  the  Author  and  the  simple-minded 
and  excellent  Society  of  Friends,  through  a  proselyte  of  much  more  im- 
portance than  Walter  Scott  of  Raeburn.  The  celebrated  John  Swinton  of 
Swinton,  nineteenth  baron  in  descent  of  that  ancient  and  once  powerful 
family,  was,  with  Sir  William  Lockhart  of  Lee,  the  person  whom  Crom- 
well chiefly  trusted  in  the  management  of  the  Scottish  affairs  during  his 
usurpation.  After  the  Restoration,  Swinton  was  devoted  as  a  victim  to 
the  new  order  of  things,  and  was  brought  down  in  the  same  vessel  which 
conveyed  the  Marquis  of  Argyle  to  Edinburgh,  where  that  nobleman  was 


606 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


tried  and  executed.  Swinton  was  destined  to  the  same  fate.  He  had  as- 
sumed the  habit  and  entered  into  the  society  of  the  Quakers,  and  appeared 
as  one  of  their  number  before  the  Parliament  of  Scotland.  He  renounced 
all  legal  defence,  though  beveral  pleas  were  open  to  him,  and  answered,  in 
conformity  to  the  principles  of  his  sect,  that  at  the  time  these  crimes  were 
imputed  to  him  he  was  in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  bond  of  iniquity  ;  but 
that  God  Almighty  having  since  called  him  to  the  light,  he  saw  and  ac- 
knowledged these  errors,  and  did  not  refuse  to  pay  the  forfeit  of  them, 
even  though,  in  the  judgment  of  the  Parliament,  it  should  extend  to  life 
itself. 

Respect  to  fallen  greatness,  and  to  the  patience  and  calm  resignation 
with  which  a  man  once  in  high  power  expressed  himself  under  such  a 
change  of  fortune,  found  Swinton  friends ;  family  connexions,  and  some 
interested  considerations  of  Middleton,  the  Commissioner,  joined  to  pro- 
cure his  safety,  and  he  was  dismissed,  but  after  a  long  imprisonment,  and 
much  dilapidation  of  his  estates.  It  is  said  that  Swinton's  admoni- 
tions, while  confined  in  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh,  had  a  considerable  share 
in  converting  to  the  tenets  of  the  Friends  Colonel  David  Barclay,  then 
lying  there  in  garrison.  This  was  the  father  of  Robert  Barclay,  author  of 
the  celebrated  Apology  for  the  Quakers.  It  may  be  observed  among  the  in- 
consistencies of  human  nature,  that  Kirkton,  Wodrow,  and  other  Presby- 
terian authors,  who  have  detailed  the  sufferings  of  their  own  sect  for  non- 
conformity with  the  established  church,  censure  the  government  of  the 
time  for  not  exerting  the  civil  power  against  the  peaceful  enthusiasts  we 
have  treated  of,  and  some  express  particular  chagrin  at  the  escape  of  Swin- 
ton. Whatever  might  be  his  motives  for  assuming  the  tenets  of  the  Friends, 
the  old  man  retained  them  faithfully  till  the  close  of  his  life. 

Jean  Swinton,  granddaughter  of  Sir  John  Swinton,  son  of  Judge  Swin- 
ton, as  the  Quaker  was  usually  termed,  was  mother  of  Anne  Rutherford, 
the  Author's  mother. 

And  thus,  as  in  the  play  of  the  Anti-Jacobin,  the  ghost  of  the  Author's 
grandmother  having  arisen  to  speak  the  Epilogue,  it  is  full  time  to  con- 
clude, lest  the  reader  should  remonstrate  that  his  desire  to  know  the 
Author  of  Waverley  never  included  a  wish  to  be  acquainted  with  his  whole 
ancestry. 

Note  3. — Edinburgh  City  Guard,  p.  42. 

The  Lord  Provost  was  ex-officio  commander  and  colonel  of  the  corps, 
which  might  be  increased  to  three  hundred  men  when  the  times  required 
it.  No  other  drum  but  theirs  was  allowed  to  sound  on  the  High  Street  be- 
tween the  Luckenbooths  and  the  Netherbow. 

Note  4. — Last  March  of  the  City  Guard,  p.  43. 

This  ancient  corps  is  now  entirely  disbanded.  Their  last  march  to  do 
duty  at  Hallow  Fair  had  something  in  it  affecting.  Their  drums  and  fifes 
had  been  wont  on  better  days  to  play,  on  this  joyous  occasion,  the  lively 
tune  of 

"  Jockey  to  the  fair  "  ; 
but  on  this  final  occasion  the  afflicted  veterans  moved  slowly  to  the  dirge  of 


M  The  last  time  I  came  ower  the  muir." 


NOTES. 


607 


Note  5.— -The  Kelpie's  Voice,  p.  49. 

There  is  a  tradition  that,  while  a  little  stream  was  swollen  into  a  torrent 
by  recent  showers,  the  discontented  voice  of  the  Water  Spirit  was  heard 
to  pronounce  these  words.  At  the  same  moment  a  man,  urged  on  by  his 
fate,  or,  in  Scottish  language,  "  fey,"  arrived  at  a  gallop,  and  prepared  to 
cross  the  water.  No  remonstrance  from  the  bystanders  was  of  power  to 
stop  him  ;  he  plunged  into  the  stream,  and  perished. 

Note  6. — Bess  Wynd,  p.  56. 

Maitland  calls  it  Best's  Wynd,  and  later  writers  Beth' s  Wynd.  As  the 
name  implies,  it  was  an  open  thoroughfare  or  alley  leading  from  the  Lawn- 
market,  and  extended  in  a  direct  line  between  the  old  tolbooth  to  near  the 
head  of  the  Cowgate.  It  was  partly  destroyed  by  fire  in  1786,  and  was 
totally  removed  in  1809,  preparatory  to  the  building  of  the  new  libraries  of 
the  Faculty  of  Advocates  and  Writers  to  the  Signet  (Laing). 

Note  7. — Law  Relating  to  Child-Murder,  p.  68. 

The  Scottish  Statute  Book,  anno  1690,  chapter  21,  in  consequence  of  the 
great  increase  of  the  crime  of  child-murder,  both  from  the  temptations  to 
commit  the  offence  and  the  difficulty  of  discovery,  enacted  a  certain  set  of 
presumptions,  which,  in  the  absence  of  direct  proof,  the  jury  were  directed 
to  receive  as  evidence  of  the  crime  having  actually  been  committed.  The 
circumstances  selected  for  this  purpose  were,  that  the  woman  should  have 
concealed  her  situation  during  the  whole  period  of  pregnancy  ;  that  she 
should  not  have  called  for  help  at  her  delivery  ;  and  that,  combined  with 
these  grounds  of  suspicion,  the  child  should  be  either  found  dead  or  be 
altogether  missing.  Many  persons  suffered  death  during  the  last  century 
under  this  severe  act.  But  during  the  Author's  memory  a  more  lenient 
course  was  followed,  and  the  female  accused  under  the  act,  and  conscious 
of  no  competent  defence,  usually  lodged  a  petition  to  the  Court  of  Justi- 
ciary, denying,  for  form's  sake,  the  tenor  of  the  indictment,  but  stating 
that,  as  her  good  name  had  been  destroyed  by  the  charge,  she  was  willing 
to  submit  to  sentence  of  banishment,  to  which  the  crown  counsel  usually 
consented.  This  lenity  in  practice,  and  the  comparative  infrequency  of  the 
crime  since  the  doom  of  public  ecclesiastical  penance  has  been  generally 
dispensed  with,  have  led  to  the  abolition  of  the  Statute  of  William  and 
Mary,  which  is  now  replaced  by  another,  imposing  banishment  in  those 
circumstances  in  which  the  crime  was  formerly  capital.  This  alteration 
took  place  in  1803. 

Note  8. — English  Translation  of  "  Porta,"  etc.  p.  70. 

Wide  is  the  fronting  gate,  and,  raised  on  high, 
With  adamantine  columns  threats  the  sky  ; 
Vain  is  the  force  of  man,  and  Heaven's  as  vain, 
To  crush  the  pillars  which  the  pile  sustain, 
Sublime  on  these  a  tower  of  steel  is  rear'd. 

Dryden's  Virgil,  Book  VI. 

Note  9. — Journeymen  Mechanics,  p.  76. 

A  near  relation  of  the  Author's  used  to  tell  of  having  been  stopped  by 
the  rioters  and  escorted  home  in  the  manner  described,    On  reaching  her 


608 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


own  home,  one  of  her  attendants,  in  appearance  a  "baxter,"  i.e.  l  baker's 
lad,  handed  her  out  of  her  chair,  and  took  leave  with  a  bow,  which,  in  the 
lady's  opinion,  argued  breeding  that  could  hardly  be  learned  beside  the 
oven. 

Note  10. — The  Old  Tolbooth,  p.  79. 

The  ancient  tolbooth  of  Edinburgh,  situated  and  described  as  in  chapter 
vi.,  was  built  by  the  citizens  in  1561,  and  destined  for  the  accommodation 
of  Parliament,  as  well  as  of  the  High  Courts  of  Justice,  and  at  the  same 
time  for  the  confinement  of  prisoners  for  debt,  or  on  criminal  charges. 
Since  the  year  1640,  when  the  present  Parliament  House  was  erected,  the 
tolbooth  was  occupied  as  a  prison  only.  Gloomy  and  dismal  as  it  was,  the 
situation  in  the  centre  of  the  High  Street  rendered  it  so  particularly  well- 
aired,  that  when  the  plague  laid^  waste  the  city  in  1645,  it  affected  none 
within  these  melancholy  precincts.  The  tolbooth  was  removed,  with  the 
mass  of  buildings  in  which  it  was  incorporated,  in  the  autumn  of  the  year 
1817.  At  that  time  the  kindness  of  his  old  schoolfellow  and  friend,  Robert 
Johnstone,  Esquire,  then  Dean  of  Guild  of  the  city,  with  the  liberal 
acquiescence  of  the  persons  who  had  contracted  for  the  work,  procured  for 
the  Author  of  Waverley  the  stones  which  composed  the  gateway,  together 
with  the  door,  and  its  ponderous  fastenings,  which  he  employed  in  deco- 
rating the  entrance  of  his  kitchen-court  at  Abbotsford.  uTo  such  base 
offices  may  we  return  !  "  The  application  of  these  relics  of  the  Heart  of 
Midlothian  to  serve  as  the  postern  gate  to  a  court  of  modern  offices  may 
be  justly  ridiculed  as  whimsical ;  but  yet  it  is  not  without  interest  that  we 
see  the  gateway  through  which  so  much  of  the  stormy  politics  of  a  rude 
age,  and  the  vice  and  misery  of  later  times,  had  found  their  passage,  now 
occupied  in  the  service  of  rural  economy.  Last  year,  to  complete  the 
change,  a  tom-tit  was  pleased  to  build  her  nest  within  the  lock  of  the  tol- 
booth, a  strong  temptation  to  have  committed  a  sonnet,  had  the  Author, 
like  Tony  Lumpkin,  been  in  a  concatenation  accordingly. 

It  is  worth  mentioning  that  an  act  of  beneficence  celebrated  the  demoli- 
tion of  the  Heart  of  Midlothian.  A  subscription,  raised  and  applied  by 
the  worthy  magistrate  above-mentioned,  procured  the  manumission  of 
most  of  the  unfortunate  debtors  confined  in  the  old  jail,  so  that  there  were 
few  or  none  transferred  to  the  new  place  of  confinement. — 

Few  persons  now  living  are  likely  to  remember  the  interior  of  the  Old 
Tolbooth,  with  narrow  staircase,  thick  walls,  and  small  apartments,  nor  to 
imagine  that  it  could  ever  have  been  used  for  these  purposes.  Robert 
Chambers,  in  his  Minor  Antiquities  of  Edinburgh,  has  preserved  ground- 
plans  or  sections,  which  clearly  show  this.  The  largest  hall  was  on  the 
second  floor,  and  measured  27  feet  by  20,  and  12  feet  high.  It  may  have 
been  intended  for  the  meetings  of  the  Town  Council,  while  the  Parliament 
assembled,  after  1560,  in  what  was  called  the  Upper  Tolbooth,  that  is,  the 
southwest  portion  of  the  Collegiate  Church  of  St.  Giles,  until  the  year  1640, 
when  the  present  Parliament  House  was  completed.  Being  no  longer 
required  for  such  a  purpose,  it  was  set  apart  by  the  Town  Council  on  the 
24th  December  1641  as  a  distinct  church,  with  the  name  of  the  Tolbooth 
parish,  and  therefore  could  not  have  derived  the  name  from  its  vicinity  to 
the  tolbooth,  as  usually  stated.  The  figure  of  a  heart  upon  the  pavement 
between  St.  Giles's  Church  and  the  Edinburgh  County  Hall  now  marks  the 
tjite  of  the  Old  Tolbooth  {Laing), 


NOTES. 


609 


Note  11. — The  Murder  of  Captain  Porteous,  p.  89. 

The  following  interesting  and  authentic  account  of  the  inquiries  made  by- 
Crown  Counsel  into  the  affair  of  the  Porteous  Mob  seems  to  have  been 
drawn  up  by  the  Solicitor-General.  The  office  was  held  in  1737  by  Charles 
Erskine,  Esq.  I  owe  this  curious  illustration  to  the  kindness  of  a  pro- 
fessional friend.  It  throws,  indeed,  little  light  on  the  origin  of  the 
tumult ;  but  shows  how  profound  the  darkness  must  have  been,  which  so 
much  investigation  could  not  dispel. 

"Upon  the  7th  of  September  last,  when  the  unhappy  wicked  murder  of 
Captain  Porteus  was  committed,  his  Majesties  Advocate  and  Solicitor  were 
out  of  town,  the  first  beyond  Inverness  and  the  other  in  Annandale,  not 
far  from  Carlyle  ;  neither  of  them  knew  anything  of  the  reprieve,  nor  did 
they  in  the  least  suspect  that  any  disorder  was  to  happen. 

il  When  the  disorder  happened,  the  magistrates  and  other  persons  con- 
cerned in  the  management  of  the  town,  seemed  to  be  all  struck  of  a  heap ; 
and  whether,  from  the  great  terror  that  had  seized  all  the  inhabitants,  they 
thought  ane  immediate  enquiry  would  be  fruitless,  or  whether  being  a 
direct  insult  upon  the  prerogative  of  the  crown,  they  did  not  care  rashly 
to  intermeddle — but  no  proceedings  was  had  by  them.  Only,  soon  after, 
ane  express  was  sent  to  his  Majesties  Solicitor,  who  came  to  town  as  soon 
as  was  possible  for  him  ;  but,  in  the  mean  time,  the  persons  who  had  been 
most  guilty  had  either  run  off,  or,  at  least,  kept  themselves  upon  the  wing 
until  they  should  see  what  steps  were  taken  by  the  Government. 

"  When  the  Solicitor  arrived,  he  perceived  the  whole  inhabitants  under 
a  consternation.  He  had  no  materials  furnished  him  ;  nay,  the  inhabi- 
tants were  so  much  afraid  of  being  reputed  informers,  that  very  few  people 
had  so  much  as  the  courage  to  speak  with  him  on  the  streets.  However, 
having  received  her  Majesties  orders,  by  a  letter  from  the  Duke  of  New- 
castle, he  resolved  to  sett  about  the  matter  in  earnest,  and  entered  upon 
ane  enquiry,  gropeing  in  the  dark.  He  had  no  assistance  from  the  magis- 
trates worth  mentioning,  but  called  witness  after  witness  in  the  privatest 
manner  before  himself  in  his  own  house,  and  for  six  weeks  time,  from  mor- 
ning to  evening,  went  on  in  the  enquiry  without  taking  the  least  diversion, 
or  turning  his  thoughts  to  any  other  business. 

He  tried  at  first  what  he  could  do  by  declarations,  by  engaging  secresy, 
so  that  those  who  told  the  truth  should  never  be  discovered  ;  made  use  of 
no  clerk,  but  wrote  all  the  declarations  with  his  own  hand,  to  encourage 
them  to  speak  out.  After  all,  for  some  time,  he  could  get  nothing  but  ends 
of  stories,  which,  when  pursued,  broke  off ;  and  those  who  appeared  and 
knew  anything  of  the  matter  were  under  the  utmost  terror  lest  it  should 
take  air  that  they  had  mentioned  any  one  man  as  guilty. 

"During  the  course  of  the  enquiry,  the  run  of  the  town,  Which  was 
strong  for  the  villanous  actors,  begun  to  alter  a  little,  and  when  they  saw 
the  King's  servants  in  earnest  to  do  their  best,  the  generality,  who  before 
had  spoke  very  warmly  in  defence  of  the  wickedness,  begun  to  be  silent, 
and  at  that  period  more  of  the  criminals  begun  to  abscond. 

"  At  length  the  enquiry  began  to  open  a  little,  and  the  Sollicitor  was 
under  some  difficulty  how  to  proceed.  He  very  well  saw  that  the  first 
warrand  that  was  issued  out  would  start  the  whole  gang  ;  and  as  he  had 
not  come  at  ony  one  of  the  most  notorious  offenders,  he  was  unwilling, 
upon  the  slight  evidence  he  had,  to  begin.  However,  upon  notice  given 
39 


610 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


him  by  Generall  Moyle  that  one  King,  a  butcher  in  the  Canongate,  had 
boasted  in  presence  of  Bridget  Knell,  a  soldier's  wife,  the  morning  after 
Captain  Porteus  was  hanged,  that  he  had  a  very  active  hand  in  the  mob,  a 
warrand  was  issued  out,  and  King  was  apprehended  and  imprisoned  in 
the  Canongate  tolbooth. 

M  This  obliged  the  Sollicitor  immediately  to  proceed  to  take  up  those 
against  whom  he  had  any  information.  By  a  signed  declaration,  William 
Stirling,  apprentice  to  James  Stirling,  merchant  in  Edinburgh,  was 
charged  as  haveing  been  at  the  Nether-Bow,  after  the  gates  were  shutt,  with 
a  Lochaber  ax,  or  halbert,  in  his  hand,  and  haveing  begun  a  huzza, 
marched  upon  the  head  of  the  mob  towards  the  Guard. 

"James  Braid  wood,  son  to  a  candlemaker  in  town,  was,  by  a  signed  dec- 
laration, charged  as  haveing  been  at  the  Tolbooth  door,  giveing  directions 
to  the  mob  about  setting  fire  to  the  door,  and  that  the  mob  named  him  by 
his  name,  and  asked  his  advice, 

44  By  another  declaration,  one  Stoddart,  a  journeyman  smith,  was  charged 
of  haveing  boasted  publickly,  in  a  smith's  shop  at  Leith,  that  he  had 
assisted  in  breaking  open  the  Tolbooth  door. 

44  Peter  Traill,  a  journeyman  wright,  by  one  of  the  declarations,  was  also 
accused  of  haveing  lockt  the  Nether-Bow  Port  when  it  was  shutt  by  the 
mob. 

"  His  Majesties  Sollicitor  having  these  informations,  imployed  privately 
such  persons  as  he  could  best  rely  on,  and  the  truth  was,  there  were  very 
few  in  whom  he  could  repose  confidence.  But  he  was,  indeed,  faithfully 
served  by  one  Webster,  a  soldier  in  the  Welsh  fuzileers,  recommended  to 
him  by  Lieutenant  Alshton,  who,  with  very  great  address,  informed  him- 
self, and  really  run  some  risque  in  getting  his  information,  concerning  the 
places  where  the  persons  informed  against  used  to  haunt,  and  how  they 
might  be  seized.  In  consequence  of  which,  a  party  of  the  Guard  from  the 
Canongate  was  agreed  on  to  march  up  at  a  certain  hour,  when  a  message 
should  be  sent.  The  Solicitor  wrote  a  letter  and  gave  it  to  one  of  the  town 
officers,  ordered  to  attend  Captain  Maitland,  one  of  the  town  Captains,  pro- 
moted to  that  command  since  the  unhappy  accident,  who,  indeed,  was 
extremely  diligent  and  active  throughout  the  whole ;  and  haveing  got 
Stirling  and  Braidwood  apprehended,  dispatched  the  officer  with  the  letter 
to  the  military  in  the  Canongate,  who  immediately  began  their  march, 
and  by  the  time  the  Sollicitor  had  half  examined  the  said  two  persons  in 
the  Burrow-room,  where  the  magistrates  were  present,  a  party  of  fifty  men, 
drums  beating,  marched  into  the  Parliament  closs,  and  drew  up,  which 
was  the  first  thing  that  struck  a  terror,  and  from  that  time  forward  the 
insolence  was  succeeded  by  fear. 

"Stirling  and  Braidwood  were  immediately  sent  to  the  Castle  and  im- 
prisoned. That  same  night,  Stoddart,  the  smith,  was  seized,  and  he  was 
committed  to  the  Castle  also,  as  was  likewise  Traill,  the  journeyman 
wright,  who  were  all  severally  examined,  and  denyed  the  least  accession. 

4t  In  the  mean  time,  the  enquiry  was  going  on,  and  it  haveing  cast  up  in 
one  of  the  declarations,  that  a  hump'd-backed  creature  marched  with  a 
gun  as  one  of  the  guards  to  Porteus  when  he  went  up  the  Lawn  Markett, 
the  person  who  emitted  this  declaration  was  employed  to  walk  the  streets 
to  see  if  he  could  find  him  ou!  ;  at  last  he  came  to  the  Sollicitor  and  told 
him  he  had  found  him,  and  that  he  was  in  a  certain  house.  Whereupon 
a  warrand  was  issued  out  against  him,  and  he  was  apprehended  and  sent 


NOTES. 


611 


to  the  Castle,  and  he  proved  to  be  one  Birnie,  a  helper  to  the  Countess  of 
Weemys's  coachman. 

44  Thereafter,  ane  information  was  given  in  against  William  M'Lauchlan. 
ffootman  to  the  said  Countess,  as  haveingbeen  very  active  in  the  mob ;  ffor 
some  time  he  kept  himself  out  of  the  way,  but  at  last  he  was  apprehended 
and  likewise  committed  to  the  Castle. 

41  And  these  were  all  the  prisoners  who  were  putt  under  confinement  in 
that  place. 

"  There  were  other  persons  imprisoned  in  the  Tolbooth  of  Edinburgh, 
and  severalls  against  whom  warrands  were  issued,  but  could  not  be  appre- 
hended, whose  names  and  cases  shall  afterwards  be  more  particularly  taken 
notice  of. 

44  The  ffriends  of  Stirling  made  ane  application  to  the  Earl  of  Islay,  Lord 
Justice-Generall,  setting  furth,  that  he  was  seized  with  a  bloody  fflux  ;  that 
his  life  was  in  danger ;  and  that  upon  ane  examination  of  witnesses  whose 
names  were  given  in,  it  would  appear  to  conviction  that  he  had  not  the 
least  access  to  any  of  the  riotous  proceedings  of  that  wicked  mob. 

44  This  petition  wras  by  his  Lordship  putt  in  the  hands  of  his  Majesties 
Sollicitor,  who  examined  the  witnesses ;  and  by  their  testimonies  it  ap- 
peared that  the  young  man,  who  was  not  above  eighteen  years  of  age,  was 
that  night  in  company  with  about  half  a  dozen  companions,  in  a  public 
house  in  Stephen  Law's  closs,  near  the  back  of  the  Guard,  where  they  all 
remained  untill  the  noise  came  to  the  house  that  the  mob  had  shut  the 
gates  and  seized  the  Guard,  upon  which  the  company  broke  up,  and  he 
and  one  of  his  companions  went  towards  his  master's  house;  and,  in  the 
course  of  the  after  examination,  there  was  a  witness  who  declared,  nay, 
indeed  swore — for  the  Sollicitor,  by  this  time,  saw  it  necessary  to  put  those 
he  examined  on  oath — that  he  met  him  [Stirling]  after  he  entered  into  the 
alley  where  his  master  lives,  going  towards  his  house  ;  and  another  wit- 
ness, fellow-prentice  with  Stirling,  declares,  that  after  the  mob  had  seized 
the  Guard,  he  went  home,  where  he  found  Stirling  before  him  ;  and  that 
his  master  lockt  the  door,  and  kept  them  both  at  home  till  after  twelve  at 
night :  upon  weighing  of  which  testimonies,  and  upon  consideration  had, 
that  he  was  charged  by  the  declaration  only  of  one  person,  who  really  did 
not  appear  to  be  a  witness  ot  the  greatest  weight,  and  that  his  life  was  in 
danger  from  the  imprisonment,  he  was  admitted  to  baill  by  the  Lord 
Justice-Generall,  by  whose  warrandhewas  committed. 

44  Braid  wood's  friends  applyed  in  the  same  manner;  but  as  he  stood 
charged  by  more  than  one  witness,  he  was  not  released — tho',  indeed,  the 
witnesses  adduced  for  him  say  somewhat  in  his  exculpation — that  he  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  upon  any  original  concert ;  and  one  of  the  witnesses 
says  he  was  along  with  him  at  the  Tolbooth  door,  and  refuses  what  is  said 
against  him,  with  regard  to  his  having  advised  the  burning  of  the  Tolbooth 
door.    But  he  remains  still  in  prison. 

44  As  to  Traill,  the  journeyman  wright,  he  is  charged  by  the  same  witness 
who  declared  against  Stirling,  and  there  is  none  concurrs  with  him  ;  and  to 
say  the  truth  concerning  him,  he  seemed  to  be  the  most  ingenuous  of  any 
of  them  whom  the  Solicitor  examined,  and  pointed  out  a  witness  by  whom 
one  of  the  first  accomplices  wTas  discovered,  and  who  escaped  when  the 
warrand  was  to  be  putt  in  execution  against  them.  He  positively  denys 
his  having  shutt  the  gate,  and  'tis  thought  Traill  ought  to  be  admitted  to 
baill. 


612 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


"As  to  Birnie,  he  is  charged  only  by  one  witness,  who  had  never  seen 
him  before,  nor  knew  his  name ;  so,  tho'  I  dare  say  the  witness  honestly 
mentioned  him,  'tis  possible  he  may  be  mistaken ;  and  in  the  examina- 
tion of  above  200  witnesses,  there  is  no  body  concurrs  with  him,  and  he  is 
ane  insignificant  little  creature. 

"With  regard  to  M'Lauchlan,  the  proof  is  strong  against  him  by  one 
witness,  that  he  acted  as  a  serjeant  or  sort  of  commander,  for  some  time,  of 
a  Guard  that  stood  cross  between  the  upper  end  of  the  Luckenbooths  and 
the  north  side  of  the  street,  to  stop  all  but  friends  from  going  towards  the 
Tolbooth  ;  and  by  other  witnesses,  that  he  was  at  the  Tolbooth  door  with 
a  link  in  his  hand,  while  the  operation  of  beating  and  burning  it  was  go- 
ing on  ;  that  he  went  along  with  the  mob,  with  a  halbert  in  his  hand,  un- 
till  he  came  to  the  gallows-stone  in  the  Grassmarket,  and  that  he  stuck  the 
halbert  into  the  hole  of  the  gallows-stone ;  that  afterwards  he  went  in 
amongst  the  mob  when  Captain  Porteus  was  carried  to  the  dyer's  tree  ;  so 
that  the  proof  seems  very  heavy  against  him. 

"To  sum  up  this  matter  with  regard  to  the  prisoners  in  the  Castle,  'tis 
believed  there  is  strong  proof  against  M'Lauchlan ;  there  is  also  proof 
against  Braidwood.  But  as  it  consists  only  in  emission  of  words  said  to 
have  been  had  by  him  while  at  the  Tolbooth  door,  and  that  he  is  ane  in- 
significant pitifull  creature,  and  will  find  people  to  swear  heartily  in  his 
favours,  'tis  at  best  doubtfull  whether  a  jury  will  be  got  to  condemn  him. 

"As  to  those  in  the  Tolbooth  of  Edinburgh,  John  Crawford,  who  had 
for  some  time  been  employed  to  ring  the  bells  in  the  steeple  of  the  new 
Church  of  Edinburgh,  being  in  company  with  a  soldier  accidentally,  the 
discourse  falling  in  concerning  Captain  Porteus  and  his  murder,  as  he  ap- 
pears to  be  a  light-headed  fellow,  he  said  that  he  knew  people  that  were 
more  guilty  than  any  that  were  putt  in  prison.  Upon  this  information, 
Crawford  was  seized,  and  being  examined,  it  appeared  that,  when  the 
mob  begun,  as  he  was  comeing  down  from  the  steeple,  the  mob  took 
the  keys  from  him  ;  that  he  was  that  night  in  several  corners,  and  did 
indeed  delate  severall  persons  whom  he  saw  there,  and  immediately 
warrands  were  dispatched,  and  it  was  found  they  had  absconded  and  fled. 
But  there  was  no  evidence  against  him  of  any  kind.  Nay,  on  the  contrary, 
It  appeared  that  he  had  been  with  the  Magistrates  in  Clerk's,  the  vintner's, 
relating  to  them  what  he  had  seen  in  the  streets.  Therefore,  after  haveing 
detained  him  in  prison  ffor  a  very  considerable  time,  his  Majestie's  Advo- 
cate and  Sollicitor  signed  a  warrand  for  his  liberation. 

"There  was  also  one  James  Wilson  incarcerated  in  the  said  Tolbooth, 
apon  the  declaration  of  one  witness,  who  said  he  saw  him  on  the  streets 
with  a  gun  ;  and  there  he  remained  for  some  time,  in  order  to  try  if  a  con- 
curring witness  could  be  found,  or  that  he  acted  any  part  in  the  tragedy 
and  wickedness.  But  nothing  further  appeared  against  him  ;  and  being 
seized  with  a  severe  sickness,  he  is,  by  a  warrand  signed  by  his  Majestie's 
Advocate  and  Sollicitor,  liberated  upon  giveing  sufficient  baill. 

"  As  to  King,  enquiry  was  made,  and  the  ffact  comes  out  beyond  all 
exception,  that  he  was  in  the  lodge  at  the  Nether-Bow,  with  Lindsay  the 
waiter,  and  several  other  people,  not  at  all  concerned  in  the  mob.  But 
after  the  affair  was  over,  he  went  up  towards  the  guard,  and  having  met 
with  Sandie  the  Turk  and  his  wife,  who  escaped  out  of  prison,  they  re- 
turned to  his  house  at  the  Abbey,  and  then  'tis  very  possible  he  may  have 
thought  fltt  in  his  beer  to  boast  of  villany,  in  which  he  could  not  possibly 


NOTES. 


613 


have  any  share ;  for  that  reason  he  was  desired  to  find  baill  and  he  should 
be  set  at  liberty.  But  he  is  a  stranger  and  a  fellow  of  very  indifferent 
character,  and  'tis  believed  it  won't  be  easy  for  him  to  find  baill.  Where- 
fore, it's  thought  he  must  be  sett  at  liberty  without  it.  Because  he  is  a 
burden  upon  the  Government  while  kept  in  confinement,  not  being  able 
to  maintain  himself. 

"  What  is  above  is  all  that  relates  to  persons  in  custody.  But  there  are 
warrands  out  against  a  great  many  other  persons  who  are  fled,  particularly 
against  one  William  White,  a  journeyman  baxter,  who,  by  the  evidence, 
appears  to  have  been  at  the  beginning  of  the  mob,  and  to  have  gone  along 
with  the  drum,  from  the  West-Port  to  the  Nether-Bow,  and  is  said  to  have 
been  one  of  those  who  attacked  the  guard,  and  probably  was  as  deep  as  any 
one  there. 

"Information  was  given  that  he  was  lurking  at  Falkirk,  where  he  was 
born.  Whereupon  directions  were  sent  to  the  Sheriff  of  the  County,  and 
a  warrand  from  his  Excellency  Generall  Wade  to  the  commanding  officers 
at  Stirling  and  Linlithgow,  to  assist,  and  all  possible  endeavours  were  used 
to  catch  hold  of  him,  and  'tis  said  he  escaped  very  narrowly,  having  lyen 
concealed  in  some  outhouse ;  and  the  misfortune  was,  that  those  who  were 
employed  in  the  search  did  not  know  him  personally.  Nor  indeed  was  it 
easy  to  trust  any  of  the  acquaintances  of  so  low,  obscure  a  fellow  with  the 
secret  of  the  warrand  to  be  putt  in  execution. 

41  There  was  also  strong  evidence  found  against  Robert  Taylor,  servant 
to  William  and  Charles  Thomsons,  periwig-makers,  that  he  acted  as  ane 
officer  among  the  mob,  and  he  is  traced  from  the  guard  to  the  well  at  the 
head  of  Forrester's  Wynd,  where  he  stood  and  had  the  appellation  of 
Captain  from  the  mob,  and  from  that  walking  down  the  Bow  before  Cap- 
tain Porteus,  with  his  Lochaber  axe ;  and  by  the  description  given  of  one 
who  hawl'd  the  rope  by  which  Captain  Porteus  was  pulled  up,  'tis  believed 
Taylor  was  the  person  ;  and  'tis  further  probable  that  the  witness  who 
delated  Stirling  had  mistaken  Taylor  for  him,  their  stature  and  age  (so  far 
as  can  be  gathered  from  the  description)  being  much  the  same. 

11  A  great  deal  of  pains  were  taken,  and  no  charge  was  saved,  in  order  to 
have  catched  hold  of  this  Taylor,  and  warrands  were  sent  to  the  country 
where  he  was  born  ;  but  it  appears  he  had  shipt  himself  off  for  Holland, 
where  it  is  said  he  now  is. 

"There  is  strong  evidence  also  against  Thomas  Burns,  butcher,  that  he 
was  ane  active  person  from  the  beginning  of  the  mob  to  the  end  of  it.  He 
lurkt  for  some  time  amongst  those  of  his  trade;  and  artfully  enough  a 
train  was  laid  to  catch  him,  under  pretence  of  a  message  that  had  come 
from  his  father  in  Ireland,  so  that  he  came  to  a  blind  alehouse  in  the  Flesh- 
market  closs,  and  a  party  being  ready,  was  by  Webster  the  soldier,  who 
was  upon  this  exploit,  advertised  to  come  down.  However,  Burns  escaped 
out  at  a  back  window,  and  hid  himself  in  some  of  the  houses  which  are 
heaped  together  upon  one  another  in  that  place,  so  that  it  was  not  possible 
to  catch  him.  'Tis  now  said  he  is  gone  to  Ireland  to  his  father,  who  lives 
there. 

11  There  is  evidence  also  against  one  Robert  Anderson,  journeyman  and 
servant  to  Colin  Alison,  wright,  and  against  Thomas  Linnen  [Linning]  and 
James  Maxwell,  both  servants  also  to  the  said  Colin  Alison,  who  all  seem 
to  have  been  deeply  concerned  in  the  matter.  Anderson  is  one  of  those 
who  putt  the  rope  upon  Captain  Porteus's  neck.    Linnen  seems  also  to  have 


614 


WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS. 


been  very  active  ;  and  Maxwell — which  is  pretty  remarkable — is  proven  to 
have  come  to  a  shop  upon  the  Friday  before,  and  charged  the  journeymen 
and  prentices  there  to  attend  in  the  Parliament  closs  on  Tuesday  night,  to 
assist  to  hang  Captain  Porteus.  These  three  did  early  abscond,  and  though 
warrands  had  been  issued  out  against  them,  and  all  endeavours  used  to 
apprehend  them,  could  not  be  found. 

"  One  Waldie,  a  servant  to  George  Campbell,  wright,  has  also  absconded, 
and  many  others,  and  'tis  informed  that  numbers  of  them  have  shipt 
themselves  off  ffor  the  Plantations  ;  and  upon  ane  information  that  a  ship 
was  going  off  ffrom  Glasgow,  in  which  severall  of  the  rogues  were  to 
transport  themselves  beyond  seas,  proper  warrands  were  obtained,  and 
persons  dispatched  to  search  the  said  ship,  and  seize  any  that  can  be 
found. 

"  The  like  warrands  had  been  issued  with  regard  to  ships  from  Leith. 
But  whether  they  had  been  scard,  or  whether  the  information  had  been 
groundless,  they  had  no  effect. 

"  This  is  a  summary  of  the  enquiry,  ffrom  which  it  appears  there  is  no 
prooff  on  which  one  can  rely,  but  against  M'Lauchlan.  There  is  a  prooff 
also  against  Braidwood,  but  more  exceptionable. 

"His  Majesties  Advocate,  since  he  came  to  town,  has  join'd  with  the 
Sollicitor,  and  has  done  his  utmost  to  gett  at  the  bottom  of  this  matter, 
but  hitherto  it  stands  as  is  above  represented.  They  are  resolved  to  have 
their  eyes  and  their  ears  open,  and  to  do  what  they  can.  But  they  la- 
bour'd  exceedingly  against  the  stream  ;  and  it  may  truly  be  said  that 
nothing  was  wanting  on  their  part.  Nor  have  they  declined  any  labour 
to  answer  the  commands  laid  upon  them  to  search  the  matter  to  the 
bottom." 

The  Porteous  Mob. 

In  chapters  ii.-vii.,  the  circumstances  of  that  extraordinary  riot  and  con- 
spiracy, called  the  Porteous  Mob,  are  given  with  as  much  accuracy  as  the 
Author  was  able  to  collect  them.  The  order,  regularity,  and  determined 
resolution  with  which  such  a  violent  action  was  devised  and  executed 
were  only  equalled  by  the  secrecy  which  was  observed  concerning  the 
principal  actors. 

Although  the  fact  was  performed  by  torch-light,  and  in  presence  of  a 
great  multitude,  to  some  of  whom,  at  least,  the  individual  actors  must 
have  been  known,  yet  no  discovery  was  ever  made  concerning  any  of  the 
perpetrators  of  the  slaughter. 

Two  men  only  were  brought  to  trial  for  an  offence  which  the  govern- 
ment were  so  anxious  to  detect  and  punish.  William  M'Lauchlan,  foot- 
man to  the  Couutess  of  Wemyss,  who  is  mentioned  in  the  report  of  the 
Solicitor-General  (page  546),  against  whom  strong  evidence  had  been 
obtained,  was  brought  to  trial  in  March  1737,  charged  as  having  been 
accessory  to  the  riot,  armed  with  a  Lochaber  axe.  But  this  man,  who 
was  at  all  times  a  silly  creature,  proved  that  he  was  in  a  state  of  mortal 
intoxication  during  the  time  he  was  present  with  the  rabble,  incapable  of 
giving  them  either  advice  or  assistance,  or,  indeed,  of  knowing  what  he  or 
they  were  doing.  He  was  also  able  to  prove  that  he  was  forced  into  the 
riot,  and  upheld  while  there  by  two  bakers,  who  put  a  Lochaber  axe  into 
his  hand.   The  jury,  wisely  judging  this  poor  creature  could  be  no  proper 


NOTES. 


615 


subject  of  punishment,  found  the  panel  "Not  guilty."  The  same  verdict 
was  given  in  the  case  of  Thomas  Linning,  also  mentioned  in  the  Solicitor's 
memorial,  who  was  tried  in  1738.  In  short,  neither  then,  nor  for  a  long 
period  afterwards,  was  anything  discovered  relating  to  the  organisation  of 
the  Porteous  Plot. 

The  imagination  of  the  people  of  Edinburgh  was  long  irritated,  and  their 
curiosity  kept  awake,  by  the  mystery  attending  this  extraordinary  con- 
spiracy. It  was  generally  reported  of  such  natives  of  Edinburgh  as,  hav- 
ing left  the  city  in  youth,  returned  with  a  fortune  amassed  in  foreign 
countries,  that  they  had  originally  fled  on  account  of  their  share  in  the 
Porteous  Mob.  But  little  credit  can  be  attached  to  these  surmises,  as  in 
most  of  the  cases  they  are  contradicted  by  dates,  and  in  none  supported  by 
anything  but  vague  rumours,  grounded  on  the  ordinary  wish  of  the  vulgar 
to  impute  the  success  of  prosperous  men  to  some  unpleasant  source.  The 
secret  history  of  the  Porteous  Mob  has  been  till  this  day  unravelled  ;  and  it 
has  always  been  quoted  as  a  close,  daring,  and  calculated  act  of  violence  of 
a  nature  peculiarly  characteristic  of  the  Scottish  people. 

Nevertheless,  the  Author,  for  a  considerable  time,  nourished  hopes  to 
have  found  himself  enabled  to  throw  some  light  on  this  mysterious  story. 
An  old  man,  who  died  about  twenty  years  ago,  at  the  advanced  age  of 
ninety -three,  was  said  to  have  made  a  communication  to  the  clergyman 
who  attended  upon  his  death-bed,  respecting  the  origin  of  the  Porteous 
Mob.  This  person  followed  the  trade  of  a  carpenter,  and  had  been  em- 
ployed as  such  on  the  estate  of  a  family  of  opulence  and  condition.  His 
character,  in  his  line  of  life  and  amongst  his  neighbours,  was  excellent, 
and  never  underwent  the  slightest  suspicion.  His  confession  was  said  to 
have  been  to  the  following  purpose :  That  he  was  one  of  twelve  young 
men  belonging  to  the  village  of  Pathhead,  whose  animosity  against 
Porteous,  on  account  of  the  execution  of  Wilson,  was  so  extreme  that  they 
resolved  to  execute  vengeance  on  him  with  their  own  hands,  rather  than 
he  should  escape  punishment.  With  this  resolution  they  crossed  the 
Forth  at  different  ferries,  and  rendezvoused  at  the  suburb  called  Ports- 
burgh,  where  their  appearance  in  a  body  soon  called  numbers  around 
them.  The  public  mind  was  in  such  a  state  of  irritation  that  it  only 
wanted  a  single  spark  to  create  an  explosion  ;  and  this  was  afforded  by  the 
exertions  of  the  small  and  determined  band  of  associates.  The  appearance 
of  premeditation  and  order  which  distinguished  the  riot,  according  to  his 
account,  had  its  origin,  not  in  any  previous  plan  or  conspiracy,  but  in  the 
character  of  those  who  were  engaged  in  it.  The  story  also  serves  to  show 
why  nothing  of  the  origin  of  the  riot  has  ever  been  discovered,  since,  though 
in  itself  a  great  conflagration,  its  source,  according  to  this  account,  was 
from  an  obscure  and  apparently  inadequate  cause. 

I  have  been  disappointed,  however,  in  obtaining  the  evidence  on  which 
this  story  rests.  The  present  proprietor  of  the  estate  on  which  the  old  man 
died  (a  particular  friend  of  the  Author)  undertook  to  question  the  son  of 
the  deceased  on  the  subject.  This  person  follows  his  father's  trade,  and 
holds  the  employment  of  carpenter  to  the  same  family.  He  admits  that 
his  father's  going  abroad  at  the  time  of  the  Porteous  Mob  was  popularly 
attributed  to  his  having  been  concerned  in  that  affair ;  but  adds  that,  so 
far  as  is  known  to  him,  the  old  man  had  never  made  any  confession  to  that 
effect ;  and,  on  the  contrary,  had  uniformly  denied  being  present.  My  kind 
friend,  therefore,  had  recourse  to  a  person  from  whom  he  had  formerly 


616 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


heard  the  story  ;  but  who,  either  from  respect  to  an  old  friend's  memory, 
or  from  failure  of  his  own,  happened  to  have  forgotten  that  ever  such  a 
communication  was  made.  So  my  obliging  correspondent  (who  is  a  fox- 
hunter)  wrote  to  me  that  he  was  completely  planted ;  and  all  that  can  be 
said  with  respect  to  the  tradition  is,  that  it  certainly  once  existed,  and  was 
generally  believed.— 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Carlyle,  minister  of  Inveresk,  in  his  Autobiography,  gives 
some  interesting  particulars  relating  to  the  Porteous  Mob,  from  personal 
recollections.  He  happened  to  be  present  in  the  Tolbooth  Church  when 
Robertson  made  his  escape,  and  also  at  the  execution  of  Wilson  in  the 
Grassmarket,  when  Captain  Porteous  fired  upon  the  mob,  and  several 
persons  were  killed.    Edinburgh,  1860,  8vo,  pp.  33-42  (Laing). 

Note  12. — Dumbiedikes,  p.  94. 

Dumbiedikes,  selected  as  descriptive  of  the  taciturn  character  of  the 
imaginary  owner,  is  really  the  name  of  a  house  bordering  on  the  King's 
Park,  so  called  because  the  late  Mr.  Braidwood,  an  instructor  of  the  deaf 
and  dumb,  resided  there  with  his  pupils.  The  situation  of  the  real  house 
is  different  from  that  assigned  to  the  ideal  mansion. 

Note  13. — College  Students,  p.  96. 

Immediately  previous  to  the  Revolution,  the  students  at  the  Edinburgh 
College  were  violent  anti-Catholics.  They  were  strongly  suspected  of 
burning  the  house  of  Priestfield,  belonging  to  the  Lord  Provost ;  and  cer- 
tainly were  guilty  of  creating  considerable  riots  in  1688-89. 

Note  14. — Recommendation  to  Arboriculture,  p.  96. 

The  Author  has  been  flattered  by  the  assurance  that  this  naive  mode  of 
recommending  arboriculture — which  was  actually  delivered  in  these  very 
words  by  a  Highland  laird,  while  on  his  death-bed,  to  his  son — had  so 
much  weight  with  a  Scottish  earl  as  to  lead  to  his  planting  a  large  tract  of 
country. 

Note  15. — Carspharn  John,  p.  112. 

John  Semple,  called  Carspharn  John,  because  minister  of  the  parish  in 
Galloway  so  called,  was  a  Presbyterian  clergyman  of  singular  piety  and 
great  zeal,  of  whom  Patrick  Walker  records  the  following  passage  :  "  That 
night  after  his  wife  died,  he  spent  the  whole  ensuing  night  in  prayer  and 
meditation  in  his  garden.  The  next  morning  one  of  his  elders  coming  to 
see  him,  and  lamenting  his  great  loss  and  want  of  rest,  he  replied  :  4 1 
declare  I  have  not,  all  night,  had  one  thought  of  the  death  of  my  wife, 
I  have  been  so  taken  up  in  meditating  on  Heavenly  things.  I  have  been 
this  night  on  the  banks  of  Ulai,  plucking  an  apple  here  and  there.'  " — 
Walker's  Remarkable  Passages  of  the  Life  and  Death  of  Mr.  John  Semple. 

Note  16.— Patrick  Walker,  p.  121. 

This  personage,  whom  it  would  be  base  ingratitude  in  the  Author  to  pass 
over  without  some  notice,  was  by  far  the  most  zealous  and  faithful  collector 
and  recorder  of  the  actions  and  opinions  of  the  Cameronians.  He  resided, 
while  stationary,  at  the  Bristo  Port  of  Edinburgh,  but  was  by  trade  an 


NOTES. 


617 


itinerant  merchant  or  pedlar,  which  profession  he  seems  to  have  exercised 
in  Ireland  as  well  as  Britain.  He  composed  biographical  notices  of 
Alexander  Peden,  John  Semple,  John  Welwood,  and  Richard  Cameron,  all 
ministers  of  the  Cameronian  persuasion,  to  which  the  last-mentioned 
member  gave  the  name. 

It  is  from  such  tracts  as  these,  written  in  the  sense,  feeling,  and  spirit  of 
the  sect,  and  not  from  the  sophisticated  narratives  of  a  later  period,  that 
the  real  character  of  the  persecuted  class  is  to  be  gathered.  Walker  writes 
with  a  simplicity  which  sometimes  slides  into  the  burlesque,  and  sometimes 
attains  a  tone  of  simple  pathos,  but  always  expressing  the  most  daring 
confidence  in  his  own  correctness  of  creed  and  sentiments,  sometimes  with 
narrow-minded  and  disgusting  bigotry.  His  turn  for  the  marvellous  was 
that  of  his  time  and  sect ;  but  there  is  little  room  to  doubt  his  veracity  con- 
cerning whatever  he  quotes  on  his  own  knowledge.  His  small  tracts  now 
bring  a  very  high  price,  especially  the  earlier  and  authentic  editions. 

The  tirade  against  dancing  pronounced  by  David  Deans  is,  as  intimated 
in  the  text,  partly  borrowed  from  Peter  [Patrick]  Walker.  He  notices,  as 
a  foul  reproach  upon  the  name  of  Richard  Cameron,  that  his  memory  was 
vituperated  "by  pipers  and  fiddlers  playing  the  Cameronian  march — 
carnal  vain  springs,  which  too  many  professors  of  religion  dance  to ;  a 
practice  unbecoming  the  professors  of  Christianity  to  dance  to  any  spring, 
but  somewhat  more  to  this.  Whatever,"  he  proceeds,  "  be  the  many  foul 
blots  recorded  of  the  saints  in  Scripture,  none  of  them  is  charged  with 
this  regular  fit  of  distraction.  We  find  it  has  been  practised  by  the  wicked 
and  profane,  as  the  dancing  at  that  brutish,  base  action  of  the  calf-making; 
and  it  had  been  good  for  that  unhappy  lass  who  danced  off  the  head  of 
John  the  Baptist,  that  she  had  been  born  a  cripple  and  never  drawn  a 
limb  to  her.  Historians  say  that  her  sin  was  written  upon  her  judgment, 
who  some  time  thereafter  was  dancing  upon  the  ice  and  it  broke  and  snapt 
the  head  off  her  :  her  head  danced  above  and  her  feet  beneath.  There  is 
ground  to  think  and  conclude  that,  when  the  world's  wickedness  was 
great,  dancing  at  their  marriages  was  practised  ;  but  when  the  heavens 
above  and  the  earth  beneath  were  let  loose  upon  them  with  that  overflow- 
ing flood,  their  mirth  was  soon  staid  ;  and  when  the  Lord  in  holy  justice 
rained  fire  and  brimstone  from  heaven  upon  that  wicked  people  and  city 
Sodom,  enjoying  fulness  of  bread  and  idleness,  their  fiddle-strings  and 
hands  went  all  in  a  flame ;  and  the  whole  people  in  thirty  miles  of  length 
and  ten  of  breadth,  as  historians  say,  were  all  made  to  fry  in  their  skins  ; 
and  at  the  end,  whoever  are  giving  in  marriages  and  dancing  when  all  will 
go  in  a  flame,  they  will  quickly  change  their  note. 

"I  have  often  wondered  thorow  my  life,  how  any,  that  ever  knew  what 
it  was  to  bow  a  knee  in  earnest  to  pray,  durst  crook  a  hough  to  fyke  and 
fling  at  a  piper's  and  fiddler's  springs.  I  bless  the  Lord  that  ordered  my 
lot  so  in  my  dancing  days,  that  made  the  fear  of  the  bloody  rope  and 
bullets  to  my  neck  and  head,  the  pain  of  boots,  thumbikins,  and  irons, 
cold  and  hunger,  wetness  and  weariness,  to  stop  the  lightness  of  my  head 
and  the  wantonness  of  my  feet.  What  the  never-to-be-forgotten  Man  of 
God,  John  Knox,  said  to  Queen  Mary,  when  she  gave  him  that  sharp 
challenge,  which  would  strike  our  mean-spirited,  tongue-tacked  ministers 
dumb,  for  his  giving  public  faithful  warning  of  the  danger  of  church  and 
nation,  through  her  marrying  the  Dauphine  of  France,  when  he  left  her 
bubbling  and  greeting,  and  came  to  an  outer  court,  where  her  Lady  Maries 


618 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


were  fyking  and  dancing,  he  said,  "0  brave  ladies,  a  brave  world,  if  it 
would  last,  and  Heaven  at  the  hinder  end  !  But  fye  upon  the  knave  Death, 
that  will  seize  upon  these  bodies  of  yours  ;  and  where  will  all  your  fiddling 
and  flinging  be  then?"  Dancing  being  such  a  common  evil,  especially 
amongst  young  professors,  that  all  the  lovers  of  the  Lord  should  hate,  has 
caused  me  to  insist  the  more  upon  it,  especially  that  foolish  spring  the 
Cameronian  march!" — Life  and  Death  of  three  Famous  Worthies,  etc.,  by 
Peter  [Patrick]  Walker,  12mo,  p.  59. 

It  may  be  here  observed,  that  some  of  the  milder  class  of  Cameronians 
made  a  distinction  between  the  two  sexes  dancing  separately,  and  allowed 
of  it  as  a  healthy  and  not  unlawful  exercise  ;  but  when  men  and  women 
mingled  in  sport,  it  was  then  called  promiscuous  dancing,  and  considered  as 
a  scandalous  enormity. 

Note  17. — Muschat's  Cairn,  p.  137. 

Mcol  Muschat,  a  debauched  and  profligate  wretch,  having  conceived  a 
hatred  against  his  wife,  entered  into  a  conspiracy  with  another  brutal 
libertine  and  gambler,  named  Campbell  of  Burnbank  (repeatedly  men- 
tioned in  Pennecuick's  satirical  poems  of  the  times),  by  which  Campbell 
undertook  to  destroy  the  woman's  character,  so  as  to  enable  Muschat,  on 
false  pretences,  to  obtain  a  divorce  from  her.  The  brutal  devices  to  which 
these  worthy  accomplices  resorted  for  that  purpose  having  failed,  they 
endeavoured  to  destroy  her  by  administering  medicine  of  a  dangerous  kind, 
and  in  extraordinary  quantities.  This  purpose  also  failing,  Nicol  Muschat, 
or  Muschet,  did  finally,  on  the  17th  October  1720,  carry  his  wife  under 
cloud  of  night  to  the  King's  Park,  adjacent  to  what  is  called  the  Duke's 
Walk,  near  Holyrood  Palace,  and  there  took  her  life  by  cutting  her  throat 
almost  quite  through,  and  inflicting  other  wounds.  He  pleaded  guilty  to 
the  indictment,  for  which  he  suffered  death.  His  associate,  Campbell, 
was  sentenced  to  transportation  for  his  share  in  the  previous  conspiracy. 
See  MacLaurin's  Criminal  Cases,  pp.  64  and  738. 

In  memory,  and  at  the  same  time  execration,  of  the  deed,  a  cairn,  or  pile 
of  stones,  long  marked  the  spot.  It  is  now  almost  totally  removed,  in  con- 
sequence of  an  alteration  on  the  road  in  that  place. 

Note  18.— Hangman  or  Lockman,  p.  166. 

Lockman,  so  called  from  the  small  quantity  of  meal  (Scottice,  lock) 
which  he  was  entitled  to  take  out  of  every  boll  exposed  to  market  in  the 
city.  In  Edinburgh  the  duty  has  been  very  long  commuted ;  but  in  Dum- 
fries the  finisher  of  the  law  still  exercises,  or  did  lately  exercise,  his 
privilege,  the  quantity  taken  being  regulated  by  a  small  iron  ladle,  which 
he  uses  as  the  measure  of  his  perquisite.  The  expression  lock,  for  a  small 
quantity  of  any  readily  divisible  dry  substance,  as  corn,  meal,  flax,  or  the 
like,  is  still  preserved,  not  only  popularly,  but  in  a  legal  description,  as 
the  lock  and  gowpen,  or  small  quantity  and  handful,  payable  in  thirlage 
cases,  as  in  town  multure. 

Note  19. — The  Fairy  Boy  of  Leith,  p.  179. 

This  legend  was  in  former  editions  inaccurately  said  to  exist  in  Baxter's 
World  of  Spirits ;  but  is,  in  fact,  to  be  found  in  Pandemonium,  or  the  DeviVs 
Cloyster ;  being  a  further  blow  to  Modern  Sadduceism,  by  Richard  Bo  vet, 


NOTES. 


619 


Gentleman,  12mo,  1684  [p.  172,  etc.]  The  work  is  inscribed  to  Dr.  Henry 
More.  The  story  is  entitled:  44  A  remarkable  passage  of  one  named  the 
Fairy  Boy  of  Leith,  in  Scotland,  given  me  by  my  worthy  friend  Captain 
George  Burton,  and  attested  under  his  own  hand  "  ;  and  is  as  follows  : 

14  About  fifteen  years  since,  having  business  that  detained  me  for  some 
time  in  Leith,  which  is  near  Edenborough,  in  the  kingdom  of  Scotland,  I 
often  met  some  of  my  acquaintance  at  a  certain  house  there,  where  we 
used  to  drink  a  glass  of  wine  for  our  refection.  The  woman  which  kept 
the  house  was  of  honest  reputation  amongst  the  neighbours,  which  made 
me  give  the  more  attention  to  what  she  told  me  one  day  about  a  Fairy  Boy 
(as  they  called  him)  who  lived  about  that  town.  She  had  given  me  so 
strange  an  account  of  him,  that  I  desired  her  I  might  see  him  the  first 
opportunity,  which  she  promised ;  and  not  long  after,  passing  that  way, 
she  told  me  there  was  the  Fairy  Boy  but  a  little  before  I  came  by  ;  and  cast- 
ing her  eye  into  the  street,  said,  4  Look  you,  sir,  yonder  he  is  at  play  with 
those  other  boys,'  and  designing  him  to  me,  I  went,  and  by  smooth  words, 
and  a  piece  of  money,  got  him  to  come  into  the  house  with  me ;  where,  in 
the  presence  of  divers  people,  I  demanded  of  him  several  astrological  ques- 
tions, which  he  answered  with  great  subtility,  and  through  all  his  discourse 
carryed  it  with  a  cunning  much  above  his  years,  which  seemed  not  to  ex- 
ceed ten  or  eleven.  He  seemed  to  make  a  motion  like  drumming  upon  the 
table  with  his  fingers,  upon  which  I  asked  him,  whether  he  could  beat  a 
drum,  to  which  he  replied  :  4  Yes,  sir,  as  well  as  any  man  in  Scotland  ;  for 
every  Thursday  night  I  beat  all  points  to  a  sort  of  people  that  use  to  meet 
under  yonder  hill '  (pointing  to  the  great  hill  between  Edenborough  and 
Leith).  4  How,  boy,'  quoth  I ;  4  what  company  have  you  there? '  4  There 
are,  sir,'  said  he,  4  a  great  company  both  of  men  and  women,  and  they 
are  entertained  with  many  sorts  of  musick  besides  my  drum  ;  they  have, 
besides,  plenty  of  variety  of  meats  and  wine ;  and  many  times  we  are 
carried  into  France  or  Holland  in  a  night,  and  return  again  ;  and  whilst 
we  are  there,  we  enjoy  all  the  pleasures  the  country  doth  afford.'  I 
demanded  of  him,  how  they  got  under  that  hill.  To  which  he  replied : 
4  That  there  were  a  great  pair  of  gates  that  opened  to  them,  though  they 
were  invisible  to  others,  and  that  within  there  were  brave  large  rooms,  as 
well  accommodated  as  most  in  Scotland.'  I  then  asked"  him,  how  I 
should  know  what  he  said  to  be  true  ?  Upon  which  he  told  me,  he  would 
read  my  fortune,  saying  I  should  have  two  wives,  and  that  he  saw  the 
forms  of  them  sitting  on  my  shoulders;  that  both  would  be  very  hand- 
som  women.  As  he  was  thus  speaking,  a  woman  of  the  neighbourhood, 
coming  into  the  room,  demanded  of  him  what  her  fortune  should  be?  He 
told  her  that  she  had  had  two  bastards  before  she  was  married  ;  which  put 
her  in  such  a  rage  that  she  desired  not  to  hear  the  rest.  The  woman  of  the 
house  told  me  that  all  the  people  in  Scotland  could  not  keep  him  from  the 
rendesvous  on  Thursday  night ;  upon  which,  by  promising  him  some  more 
money,  I  got  a  promise  of  him  to  meet  me  at  the  same  place,  in  the  after- 
noon the  Thursday  following,  and  so  dismist  him  at  that  time.  The  boy 
came  again  at  the  place  and  time  appointed,  and  I  had  prevailed  with 
some  friends  to  continue  with  me,  if  possible,  to  prevent  his  moving  that 
night ;  he  was  placed  between  us,  and  answered  many  questions,  without 
offering  to  go  from  us,  until  about  eleven  of  the  clock  he  was  got  away 
unperceived  of  the  company  ;  but  I  suddenly  missing  him,  hasted  to  the 
door,  and  took  hold  of  him,  and  so  returned  him  into  the  same  room  ;  we 


620 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


all  watched  him,  and  on  a  sudden  he  was  again  got  out  of  the  doors.  I 
followed  him  close,  and  he  made  a  noise  in  the  street  as  if  he  had  been  set 
upon  ;  but  from  that  time  I  could  never  see  him. 

"George  Burton." 

Note  20. — Intercourse  of  the  Covenanters  with  the  Invisible 
World,  p.  180. 

The  gloomy,  dangerous,  and  constant  wanderings  of  the  persecuted  sect 
of  Cameronians  naturally  led  to  their  entertaining  with  peculiar  credulity 
the  belief  that  they  were  sometimes  persecuted,  not  only  by  the  wrath  of 
men,  but  by  the  secret  wiles  and  open  terrors  of  Satan.  In  fact,  a  flood 
could  not  happen,  a  horse  cast  a  shoe,  or  any  other  the  most  ordinary 
interruption  thwart  a  minister's  wish  to  perform  service  at  a  particular 
spot,  than  the  accident  was  imputed  to  the  immediate  agency  of  fiends. 
The  encounter  of  Alexander  Peden  with  the  devil  in  the  cave,  and  that  of 
John  Semple  with  the  demon  in  the  ford,  are  given  by  Peter  [Patrick] 
Walker,  almost  in  the  language  of  the  text. 

Note  21. — Jock  Dalgleish,  p.  192. 

Among  the  flying  leaves  of  the  period,  there  is  one  called  lt  Sutherland's 
Lament  for  the  loss  of  his  post — with  his  advice  to  John  Daglees,  his  suc- 
cessor."   He  was  whipped  and  banished,  25th  July  1722. 

There  is  another,  called  "  The  Speech  and  Dying  Words  of  John  Dal- 
gleish, Lockman,  alias  Hangman,  of  Edinburgh,"  containing  these  lines  : 

Death,  I've  a  favour  for  to  beg, 
That  ye  wad  only  gie  a  fleg, 

And  spare  my  life  ; 
As  I  did  to  ill-hanged  Megg, 

The  Webster's  wife. 

(Laing.) 

Ncte  22. — Calumniator  of  the  Fair  Sex,  p.  216. 

.  The  journal  of  Graves,  a  Bow  Street  officer,  despatched  to  Holland  to 
obtain  the  surrender  of  the  unfortunate  William  Brodie,  bears  a  reflection 
on  the  ladies  somewhat  like  that  put  in  the  mouth  of  the  police-officer 
Sharpitlaw.  It  had  been  found  difficult  to  identify  the  unhappy  criminal; 
and  when  a  Scotch  gentleman  of  respectability  had  seemed  disposed  to  give 
evidence  on  the  point  required,  his  son-in-law,  a  clergyman  in  Amsterdam, 
and  his  daughter,  were  suspected  by  Graves  to  have  used  arguments  with 
the  witness  to  dissuade  him  from  giving  his  testimony  ;  on  which  subject 
the  journal  of  the  Bow  Street  officer  proceeds  thus  : 

"Saw  then  a  manifest  reluctance  in  Mr.   ,  and  had  no  doubt  the 

daughter  and  parson  would  endeavour  to  persuade  him  to  decline  troubling 
himself  in  the  matter,  but  judged  he  could  not  go  back  from  what  he  had 
said  to  Mr.  Rich. — Nota  Bene.  No  mischief  but  a  woman  or  a  priest  in  it — 
here  both." 

Note  23. — The  Magistrates  and  the  Porteous  Mob,  p.  226. 

The  Magistrates  were  closely  interrogated  before  the  House  of  Peers,  con- 
cerning the  particulars  of  the  Mob,  and  the  patois  in  which  these  function- 
aries made  their  answers  sounded  strange  in  the  ears  of  the  Southern  nobles. 


NOTES. 


621 


The  Duke  of  Newcastle  having  demanded  to  know  with  what  kind  of  shot 
the  guard  which  Porteous  commanded  had  loaded  their  muskets,  was 
answered  naively,  "  Ow,  just  sic  as  ane  shoots  dukes  and  fools  with."  This 
reply  was  considered  as  a  contempt  of  the  House  of  Lords,  and  the  Provost 
would  have  suffered  accordingly,  but  that  the  Duke  of  Argyle  explained 
that  the  expression,  properly  rendered  into  English,  means  ducks  and 
waterfowl. 

Note  24.— Sir  William  Dick  of  Braid,  p.  227. 

This  gentleman  formed  a  striking  example  of  the  instability  of  human 
prosperity.  He  was  once  the  wealthiest  man  of  his  time  in  Scotland,  a 
merchant  in  an  extensive  line  of  commerce,  and  a  farmer  of  the  public 
revenue ;  insomuch  that,  about  1640,  he  estimated  his  fortune  at  £200,000 
sterling.  Sir  William  Dick  was  a  zealous  Covenanter ;  and  in  the  memor- 
able year  1641  he  lent  the  Scottish  Convention  of  Estates  one  hundred 
thousand  merks  at  once,  and  thereby  enabled  them  to  support  and  pay 
their  army,  which  must  otherwise  have  broken  to  pieces.  He  afterwards 
advanced  £20,000  for  the  service  of  King  Charles,  during  the  usurpation  ; 
and  having,  by  owning  the  royal  cause,  provoked  the  displeasure  of  the 
ruling  party,  he  was  fleeced  of  more  money,  amounting  in  all  to  £65,000 
sterling. 

Being  in  this  manner  reduced  to  indigence,  he  went  to  London  to  try  to 
recover  some  part  of  the  sums  which  had  been  lent  on  government  security. 
Instead  of  receiving  any  satisfaction,  the  Scottish  Croesus  was  thrown  into 
prison,  in  which  he  died,  19th  December  1655.  It  is  said  his  death  was 
hastened  by  the  want  of  common  necessaries.  But  this  statement  is  some- 
what exaggerated,  if  it  be  true,  as  is  commonly  said,  that,  though  he  was 
not  supplied  with  bread,  he  had  plenty  of  pie-crust,  thence  called  44  Sir 
William  Dick's  necessity." 

The  changes  of  fortune  are  commemorated  in  a  folio  pamphlet,  entitled 
The  Lamentable  Estate  and  Distressed  Case  of  Sir  William  Dick  [1656] .  It 
contains  several  copperplates,  one  representing  Sir  William  on  horseback, 
and  attended  with  guards  as  Lord  Provost  of  Edinburgh,  superintending 
the  unloading  of  one  of  his  rich  argosies ;  a  second  exhibiting  him  as 
arrested,  and  in  the  hands  of  the  bailiffs  ;  a  third  presents  him  dead  in 
prison.  The  tract  is  esteemed  highly  valuable  by  collectors  of  prints.  The 
only  copy  I  ever  saw  upon  sale  was  rated  at  £30. 

Note  25. — Meeting  at  Talla  Linns,  p.  232. 

This  remarkable  convocation  took  place  upon  15th  June  1682,  and  an 
account  of  its  confused  and  divisive  proceedings  may  be  found  in  Michael 
Shields's  Faithful  Contendings  Displayed,  Glasgow,  1780,  p.  21.  It  affords  a 
singular  and  melancholy  example  how  much  a  metaphysical  and  polemical 
spirit  had  crept  in  amongst  these  unhappy  sufferers,  since,  amid  so  many 
real  injuries  which  they  had  to  sustain,  they  were  disposed  to  add  disagree- 
ment and  disunion  concerning  the  character  and  extent  of  such  as  were 
only  imaginary. 

Note  26. — Doomster  or  Dempster  of  Court,  p.  284. 

The  name  of  this  officer  is  equivalent  to  the  pronouncer  of  doom  or 
sentence.  In  this  comprehensive  sense,  the  judges  of  the  Isle  of  Man  were 
called  Dempsters.    But  in  Scotland  the  word  was  long  restricted  to  the 


622 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


designation  of  an  official  person,  whose  duty  it  was  to  recite  the  sentence 
after  it  had  been  pronounced  by  the  Court,  and  recorded  by  the  clerk  ;  on 
which  occasion  the  Dempster  legalised  it  by  the  words  of  form,  "  And  this 
I  pronounce  for  doom."  For  a  length  of  years,  the  office,  as  mentioned  in 
the  text,  was  held  in  commendam  with  that  of  the  executioner  ;  for  when 
this  odious  but  necessary  officer  of  justice  received  his  appointment,  he 
petitioned  the  Court  of  Justiciary  to  be  received  as  their  dempster,  which 
was  granted  as  a  matter  of  course. 

The  production  of  the  executioner  in  open  court,  and  in  presence  of  the 
wretched  criminal,  had  something  in  it  hideous  and  disgusting  to  the  more 
refined  feelings  of  later  times.  But  if  an  old  tradition  of  the  Parliament 
House  of  Edinburgh  may  be  trusted,  it  was  the  following  anecdote  which 
occasioned  the  disuse  of  the  dempster's  office  : 

It  chanced  at  one  time  that  the  office  of  public  executioner  was  vacant. 
There  was  occasion  for  some  one  to  act  as  dempster,  and  considering  the 
party  who  generally  held  the  office,  it  is  not  wonderful  that  a  locum  tenens 
was  hard  to  be  found.  At  length  one  Hume,  who  had  been  sentenced  to 
transportation  for  an  attempt  to  burn  his  own  house,  was  induced  to  con- 
sent that  he  would  pronounce  the  doom  on  this  occasion.  But  when 
brought  forth  to  officiate,  instead  of  repeating  the  doom  to  the  criminal, 
Mr.  Hume  addressed  himself  to  their  lordships  in  a  bitter  complaint  of 
the  injustice  of  his  own  sentence.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  was  interrupted, 
and  reminded  of  the  purpose  for  which  he  had  come  hither.  "  I  ken  what 
ye  want  of  me  weel  eneugh,"  said  the  fellow,  "ye  want  me  to  be  your 
dempster  ;  but  I  am  come  to  be  none  of  your  dempster  :  I  am  come  to  sum- 
mon you,  Lord  T  ,  and  you,  Lord  E  ,  to  answer  at  the  bar  of  an- 
other world  for  the  injustice  you  have  done  me  in  this."  In  short,  Hume 
had  only  made  a  pretext  of  complying  with  the  proposal,  in  order  to  have 
an  opportunity  of  reviling  the  Judges  to  their  faces,  or  giving  them,  in 
the  phrase  of  his  country,  "a  sloan."  He  was  hurried  off  amid  the 
laughter  of  the  audience,  but  the  indecorous  scene  which  had  taken  place 
contributed  to  the  abolition  of  the  office  of  dempster.  The  sentence  is 
now  read  over  by  the  clerk  of  court,  and  the  formality  of  pronouncing 
doom  is  altogether  omitted. — 

The  usage  of  calling  the  dempster  into  court  by  the  ringing  of  a  handbell, 
to  repeat  the  sentence  on  a  criminal,  is  said  to  have  been  abrogated  in 
March  1773  (Laing). 

Note  27. — John  Duke  of  Argyle  and  Greenwich,  p.  288. 
This  nobleman  was  very  dear  to  his  countrymen,  who  were  justly  proud 
of  his  military  and  political  talents,  and  grateful  for  the  ready  zeal  with 
which  he  asserted  the  rights  of  his  native  country.  This  was  never  more 
conspicuous  than  in  the  matter  of  the  Porteous  Mob,  when  the  Ministers 
brought  in  a  violent  and  vindictive  bill  for  declaring  the  Lord  Provost  of 
Edinburgh  incapable  of  bearing  any  public  office  in  future,  for  not  foresee- 
ing a  disorder  which  no  one  foresaw,  or  interrupting  the  course  of  a  riot 
too  formidable  to  endure  opposition.  The  same  bill  made  provision  for 
pulling  down  the  city  gates  and  abolishing  the  city  guard, — rather  a 
Hibernian  mode  of  enabling  them  better  to  keep  the  peace  within  burgh  in 
future. 

The  Duke  of  Argyle  opposed  this  bill  as  a  cruel,  unjust,  and  fanatical 
proceeding,  and  an  encroachment  upon  the  privileges  of  the  royal  burghs 


NOTES. 


623 


of  Scotland,  secured  to  them  by  the  treaty  of  Union.  "  In  all  the  proceed- 
ings of  that  time,"  said  his  Grace,  "  the  nation  of  Scotland  treated  with 
the  English  as  a  free  and  independent  people  ;  and  as  that  treaty,  my  lords, 
had  no  other  guarantee  for  the  due  performance  of  its  articles  but  the  faith 
and  honour  of  a  British  Parliament,  it  would  be  both  unjust  and  ungener- 
ous should  this  House  agree  to  any  proceedings  that  have  a  tendency  to 
injure  it." 

Lord  Hardwicke,  in  reply  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  seemed  to  insinuate 
that  his  Grace  had  taken  up  the  affair  in  a  party  point  of  view,  to  which 
the  nobleman  replied  in  the  spirited  language  quoted  in  the  text.  Lord 
Hardwicke  apologised.  The  bill  was  much  modified,  and  the  clauses 
concerning  the  dismantling  the  city  and  disbanding  the  guard  were 
departed  from.  A  fine  of  £2000  was  imposed  on  the  city  for  the  benefit  of 
Porteous's  widow.  She  was  contented  to  accept  three-fourths  of  the  sum, 
the  payment  of  which  closed  the  transaction.  It  is  remarkable  that  in  our 
day  the  magistrates  of  Edinburgh  have  had  recourse  to  both  those 
measures,  held  in  such  horror  by  their  predecessors,  as  necessary  steps  for 
the  improvement  of  the  city. 

It  may  be  here  noticed,  in  explanation  of  another  circumstance  men- 
tioned in  the  text,  that  there  is  a  tradition  in  Scotland  that  George  II., 
whose  irascible  temper  is  said  sometimes  to  have  hurried  him  into  express- 
ing his  displeasure  par  voie  dufait,  offered  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  in  angry 
audience,  some  menace  of  this  nature,  on  which  he  left  the  presence  in 
high  disdain,  and  with  little  ceremony.  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  having  met 
the  Duke  as  he  retired,  and  learning  the  cause  of  his  resentment  and  dis- 
composure, endeavoured  to  reconcile  him  to  what  had  happened  by  saying  : 
41  Such  was  his  Majesty's  way,  and  that  he  often  took  such  liberties  with 
himself  without  meaning  any  harm."  This  did  not  mend  matters  in 
MacCallummore's  eyes,  who  replied,  in  great  disdain  :  41  You  will  please 
to  remember,  Sir  Robert,  the  infinite  distance  there  is  betwixt  you  and  me." 
Another  frequent  expression  of  passion  on  the  part  of  the  same  monarch 
is  alluded  to  in  the  old  Jacobite  song  : 

The  fire  shall  get  both  hat  and  wig, 
As  oft  times  they've  got  a'  that. 

Note  28.— Murder  of  the  Two  Shaws,  p.  291. 
In  1828,  the  Author  presented  to  the  Roxburgh  Club  a  curious  volume 
containing  the  Proceedings  in  the  Court-Martial  held  upon  John,  Master  of 
Sinclair  .  .  .  for  the  Murder  of  Ensign  Schaw  .  .  .  and  Captain  Schaw  .  .  . 
17th  October  1708  (Laing). 

Note  29. — Borrowing  Days,  p.  328. 
The  three  last  days  of  March,  old  style,  are  called  the  Borrowing  Days ; 
for,  as  they  are  remarked  to  be  unusually  stormy,  it  is  feigned  that  March 
had  borrowed  them  from  April,  to  extend  the  sphere  of  his  rougher  sway. 
The  rhyme  on  the  subject  is  quoted  in  Leyden's  edition  of  the  Complaynt 
of  Scotland  : 

March  said  to  Aperill 

I  see  three  hogs  upon  a  hill ; 

But  when  the  borrowed  days  were  gane, 
The  three  silly  hogs  came  hirplin'  harae. 

( Laing. ) 


624 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Note  30. — Buckholmside  Cheese,  p.  445. 
The  hilly  pastures  of  Buckholm,  which  the  Author  now  surveys, 
Not  in  the  frenzy  of  a  dreamer's  eye, 
are  famed  for  producing  the  best  ewe-milk  cheese  in  the  south  of  Scotland. 

Note  31. — Expulsion  of  the  Bishops  from  the  Scottish  Convention, 

p.  458. 

For  some  time  after  the  Scottish  Convention  had  commenced  its  sittings, 
the  Scottish  prelates  retained  their  seats,  and  said  prayers  by  rotation  to 
the  meeting,  until  the  character  of  the  Convention  became,  through  the 
secession  of  Dundee,  decidedly  Presbyterian.  Occasion  was  then  taken  on 
the  Bishop  of  Ross  mentioning  King  James  in  his  prayer,  as  him  for 
whom  they  watered  their  couch  with  tears — on  this  the  Convention 
exclaimed,  they  had  no  occasion  for  spiritual  lords,  and  commanded  the 
bishops  to  depart  and  return  no  more,  Montgomery  of  Skelmorley  break- 
ing at  the  same  time  a  coarse  jest  upon  the  spiritual  expression* used  by  the 
prelate.  Davie  Dean's  oracle,  Patrick  Walker,  gives  this  account  of  their 
dismission:  "  When  they  came  out,  some  of  the  Convention,  said  they 
wished  that  the  honest  lads  knew  that  they  were  put  out,  for  then  they 
would  not  win  away  with  heal  (whole)  gowns.  All  the  fourteen  gathered 
together  with  pale  faces,  and  stood  in  a  cloud  in  the  Parliament  Close. 
James  Wilson,  Robert  Neilson,  Franois  Hislop,  and  myself  were  standing 
close  by  them.  Francis  Hislop  with  force  thrust  Robert  Neilson  upon 
them  ;  their  heads  went  hard  upon  one  another.  But  there  being  so  many 
enemies  in  the  city  fretting  and  gnashing  their  teeth,  waiting  for  an  occa- 
sion to  raise  a  mob,  where  undoubtedly  blood  would  have  been  shed,  and 
we  having  laid  down  conclusions  among  ourselves  to  guard  against  giving 
the  least  occasion  to  all  mobs,  kept  us  from  tearing  of  their  gowns. 

V  Their  graceless  Graces  went  quickly  off,  and  neither  bishop  nor  curate 
was  seen  in  the  streets  :  this  was  a  surprising  sudden  change  not  to  be  for- 
gotten. Some  of  us  would  have  rejoiced  more  than  in  great  sums  to  have 
seen  these  bishops  sent  legally  down  the  Bow,  that  they  might  have  found 
the  weight  of  their  tails  in  a  tow  to  dry  their  hose-soles ;  that  they  might 
know  what  hanging  was,  they  having  been  active  for  themselves,  and  the 
main  instigators  to  all  the  mischiefs,  cruelties,  and  bloodshed  of  that  time, 
wherein  the  streets  of  Edinburgh  and  other  places  of  the  land  did  run  with 
the  innocent,  precious  dear  blood  of  the  Lord's  people." — Life  and  Death  of 
three  famous  Worthies  (Sem  pie,  etc.),  by  Patrick  Walker.  Edin.  1727,  pp. 
72,  73. 

Note  32. — Half-hanged  Maggie  Dickson,  p.  467. 

In  the  Statistical  Account  of  the  Parish  of  Inveresk  (vol.  xvi.  p.  34),  Dr. 
Carlyle  says,  M  No  person  has  been  convicted  of  a  capital  felony  since  the 
year  1728,  when  the  famous  Maggy  Dickson  was  condemned  and  executed 
for  child-murder  in  the  Grassmarket  of  Edinburgh,  and  was  restored  to 
life  in  a  cart  on  her  way  to  Musselburgh  to  be  buried.  .  .  .  She  kept  an 
ale-house  in  a  neighbouring  parish  for  many  years  after  she  came  to  life 
again,  which  was  much  resorted  to  from  curiosity."  After  the  body  was 
cut  down  and  handed  over  to  her  relatives,  her  revival  is  attributed  to  the 
jolting  of  the  cart,  and  according  to  Robert  Chambers — taking  a  retired 


NOTES. 


625 


road  to  Musselburgh,  "they  stopped  near  PerTer-mill  to  get  a  dram;  and 
when  they  came  out  from  the  house  to  resume  their  journey,  Maggie  was 
sitting  up  in  the  cart."  Among  the  poems  of  Alexander  Pennecuick,  who 
died  in  1730  [1722],  is  one  entitled  "The  Merry  Wives  of  Musselburgh's 
Welcome  to  Meg  Dickson  ;  "  while  another  broadside,  without  any  date  or 
author's  name,  is  called  4 4  Margaret  Dickson's  Penitential  Confession," 
containing  these  lines  referring  to  her  conviction  : 

Who  found  me  guilty  of  that  barbarous  crime, 
And  did,  by  law,  end  this  wretched  life  of  mine ; 
But  God  .  .  .  did  me  preserve,  etc. 

In  another  of  these  ephemeral  productions  hawked  about  the  streets, 
called  44  A  Ballad  by  J — n  B  s,"  are  the  following  lines  : 

Please  peruse  the  speech 

Of  ill-hanged  Maggy  Dickson. 
Ere  she  was  strung,  the  wicked  wife 

Was  sainted  by  the  flamen  (priest), 
But  now,  since  she's  return'd  to  life, 

Some  say  she's  the  old  samen. 

In  his  reference  to  Maggie's  calling  44  salt  "  after  her  recovery,  the  Author 
would  appear  to  be  alluding  to  another  character,  who  went  by  the  name 
of  14  saut  Maggie,"  and  is  represented  in  one  or  more  old  etchings  about 
1790  (Laing). 

Note  33.— Madge  Wildfike,  p.  472. 

In  taking  leave  of  the  poor  maniac  the  Anthor  may  observe  that  the 
first  conception  of  the  character,  though  afterwTards  greatly  altered,  wTas 
taken  from  that  of  a  person  calling  herself,  and  called  by  others,  Feckless 
Fannie  (weak  or  feeble  Fannie),  who  always  travelled  with  a  small  flock 
of  sheep.  The  following  account,  furnished  by  the  persevering  kindness 
of  Mr.  Train,  contains  probably  all  that  can  now  be  known  of  her  history, 
though  many,  among  whom  is  the  Author,  may  remember  having  heard 
of  Feckless  Fannie  in  the  days  of  their  youth. 

44  My  leisure  hours,"  says  Mr.  Train,  44  for  some  time  past  have  been 
mostly  spent  in  searching  for  particulars  relating  to  the  maniac  called 
Feckless  Fannie,  who  travelled  over  all  Scotland  and  England,  between 
the  years  1767  and  1775,  and  whose  history  is  altogether  so  like  a  romance, 
that  I  have  been  at  all  possible  pains  to  collect  every  particular  that  can  be 
found  relative  to  her  in  Galloway  or  in  Ayrshire. 

"  When  Feckless  Fannie  appeared  in  Ayrshire,  for  the  first  time,  in  the 
summer  of  1769,  she  attracted  much  notice  from  being  attended  by  twelve 
or  thirteen  sheep,  wTho  seemed  all  endued  with  faculties  so  much  superior 
to  the  ordinary  race  of  animals  of  the  same  species  as  to  excite  universal 
astonishment.  She  had  for  each  a  different  name,  to  which  it  answered 
when  called  by  its  mistress,  and  would  likewise  obey  in  the  most  surprising 
manner  any  command  she  thought  proper  to  give.  When  travelling,  she 
always  walked  in  front  of  her  flock,  and  they  followed  her  closely  behind. 
When  she  lay  down  at  night  in  the  fields,  for  she  would  never  enter  into 
a  house,  they  always  disputed  who  should  lie  next  to  her,  by  which  means 
she  was  kept  warm,  while  she  lay  in  the  midst  of  them  ;  when  she 
attempted  to  rise  from  the  ground,  an  old  ram,  whose  name  was  Charlie, 


626 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


always  claimed  the  sole  right  of  assisting  her ;  pushing  any  that  stood  in 
his  way  aside,  until  he  arrived  right  before  his  mistress  ;  he  then  bowed  his 
head  nearly  to  the  ground  that  she  might  lay  her  hands  on  his  horns, 
which  were  very  large  ;  he  then  lifted  her  gently  from  the  ground  by  rais- 
ing his  head.  If  she  chanced  to  leave  her  flock  feeding,  as  soon  as  they  dis- 
covered she  was  gone,  they  all  began  to  bleat  most  piteously,  and  would 
continue  to  do  so  till  she  returned  ;  they  would  then  testify  their  joy  by 
rubbing  their  sides  against  her  petticoat,  and  frisking  about. 

41  Feckless  Fannie  was  not,  like  most  other  demented  creatures,  fond  of 
fine  dress  ;  on  her  head  she  wore  an  old  slouched  hat,  over  her  shoulders 
an  old  plaid,  and  carried  always  in  her  hand  a  shepherd's  crook  :  with  any 
of  these  articles  she  invariably  declared  she  would  not  part  for  any  con- 
sideration whatever.  When  she  was  interrogated  why  she  set  so  much 
value  on  things  seemingly  so  insignificant,  she  would  sometimes  relate  the 
history  of  her  misfortune,  which  was  briefly  as  follows  : 

4  4  4  1  am  the  only  daughter  of  a  wealthy  squire  in  the  north  of  England, 
but  I  loved  my  father's  shepherd,  and  that  has  been  my  ruin  ;  for  my  father, 
fearing  his  family  would  be  disgraced  by  such  an  alliance,  in  a  passion 
mortally  wounded  my  lover  with  a  shot  from  a  pistol.  I  arrived  just  in 
time  to  receive  the  last  blessing  of  the  dying  man,  and  to  close  his  eyes  in 
death.  He  bequeathed  me  his  little  all,  but  I  only  accepted  these  sheep  to 
be  my  sole  companions  through  life,  and  this  hat,  this  plaid,  and  this 
crook,  all  of  which  I  will  carry  until  I  descend  into  the  grave.' 

44  This  is  the  substance  of  a  ballad,  eighty-four  lines  of  which  I  copied 
down  lately  from  the  recitation  of  an  old  woman  in  this  place,  who  says 
she  has  seen  it  in  print,  with  a  plate  on  the  title-page  representing  Fannie 
with  her  sheep  behind  her.  As  this  ballad  is  said  to  have  been  written  by 
Lowe,  the  author  of  4  Mary's  Dream,'  I  am  surprised  that  it  has  not  been 
noticed  by  Cromek  in  his  Remains  of  Nithsdale  and  Galloway  Song ;  but  he 
perhaps  thought  it  unworthy  of  a  place  in  his  collection,  as  there  is  very 
little  merit  in  the  composition  ;  which  want  of  room  prevents  me  from 
transcribing  at  present.  But  if  I  had  thought  you  had  never  seen  it,  I 
would  take  an  early  opportunity  of  doing  so. 

44  After  having  made  the  tour  of  Galloway  in  1769,  as  Fannie  was  wander- 
ing in  the  neighbourhood  of  Moffat,  on  her  way  to  Edinburgh,  where,  I 
am  informed,  she  was  likewise  well  known,  Old  Charlie,  her  favourite 
ram,  chanced  to  break  into  a  kale-yard,  which  the  proprietor  observing, 
let  loose  a  mastiff,  that  hunted  the  poor  sheep  to  death.  This  was  a  sad 
misfortune  ;  it  seemed  to  renew  all  the  pangs  which  she  formerly  felt  on 
the  death  of  her  lover.  She  would  not  part  from  the  side  of  her  old  friend 
for  several  days,  and  it  was  with  much  difficulty  she  consented  to  allow 
him  to  be  buried  ;  but,  still  wishing  to  pay  a  tribute  to  his  memory,  she 
covered  his  grave  with  moss,  and  fenced  it  round  with  osiers,  and  annually 
returned  to  the  same  spot,  and  pulled  the  weeds  from  the  grave  and  re- 
paired the  fence.  This  is  altogether  like  a  romance ;  but  1  believe  it  is 
really  true  that  she  did  so.  The  grave  of  Charlie  is  still  held  sacred  even 
by  the  schoolboys  of  the  present  day  in  that  quarter.  It  is  now,  perhaps, 
the  only  instance  of  the  law  of  Kenneth  being  attended  to,  which  says, 
'The  grave  where  anie  that  is  slaine  lieth  buried,  leave  unfilled  for  seven 
years.  Repute  every  grave  holie  so  as  thou  be  well  advised,  that  in  no 
wise  with  thy  feet  thou  tread  upon  it.' 

44  Through  the  storms  of  winter,  as  well  as  in  the  milder  season  of  the  year, 


NOTES. 


627 


she  continued  her  wandering  course,  nor  could  she  be  prevented  from  doing 
so,  either  by  entreaty  01  promise  of  reward.  The  late  Dr.  Fullarton  of 
Rosemount,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Ayr,  being  well  acquainted  with  her 
father  when  in  England,  endeavoured,  in  a  severe  season,  by  every  means 
in  his  power,  to  detain  her  at  Rosemount  for  a  few  days  until  the  weather 
should  become  more  mild  ;  but  when  she  found  herself  rested  a  little,  aud 
saw  her  sheep  fed,  she  raised  her  crook,  which  was  the  signal  she  always 
gave  for  the  sheep  to  follow  her,  and  off  they  all  marched  together. 

kk  But  the  hour  of  poor  Fannie's  dissolution  was  now  at  hand,  and  she 
seemed  anxious  to  arrive  at  the  spot  where  she  was  to  terminate  her  mortal 
career,  She  proceeded  to  Glasgow,  and,  while  passing  through  that  city,  a 
crowd  of  idle  boys,  attracted  by  her  singular  appearance,  together  with  the 
novelty  of  seeing  so  many  sheep  obeying  her  command,  began  to  torment 
her  with  their  pranks,  till  she  became  so  irritated  that  she  pelted  them 
with  bricks  and  stones,  which  they  returned  in  such  a  manner  that  she 
was  actually  stoned  to  death  between  Glasgow  and  Anderston. 

'k  To  the  real  history  of  this  singular  individual,  credulity  has  attached 
several  superstitious  appendages.  It  is  said  that  the  former  who  was  the 
cause  of  Charlie's  death  shortly  afterwards  drowned  himself  in  a  peat-hag ; 
and  that  the  hand  with  which  a  butcher  in  Kilmarnock  struck  one  of  the 
other  sheep  became  powerless,  and  withered  to  the  very  bone.  In  the 
summer  of  1769,  when  she  was  passing  by  New  Cumnock,  a  young  man, 
whose  name  was  William  Forsyth,  son  of  a  farmer  in  the  same  parish, 
plagued  her  so  much  that  she  wished  he  might  never  see  the  morn  ;  upon 
which  he  went  home  and  hanged  himself  in  his  father's  barn.  And  I 
doubt  not  many  such  stories  may  be  remembered  in  other  parts  where  she 
had  been." 

So  far  Mr.  Train.  The  Author  can  only  add  to  this  narrative,  that  Feck- 
less Fannie  and  her  little  flock  were  well  known  in  the  pastoral  districts. 

In  attempting  to  introduce  such  a  character  into  fiction,  the  Author  felt 
the  risk  of  encountering  a  comparison  with  the  Maria  of  Sterne  ;  and,  be- 
sides, the  mechanism  of  the  story  would  have  been  as  much  retarded  by 
Feckless  Fannie's  flock  as  the  night-march  of  Don  Quixote  was  delayed  by 
Sancho's  tale  of  the  sheep  that  were  ferried  over  the  river. 

The  Author  has  only  to  add  that,  notwithstanding  the  preciseness  of  his 
friend  Mr.  Train's  statement,  there  may  be  some  hopes  that  the  outrage  on 
Feckless  Fannie  and  her  little  flock  was  not  carried  to  extremity.  There 
is  no  mention  of  any  trial  on  account  of  it,  which,  had  it  occurred  in  the 
manner  stated,  would  have  certainly  taken  place ;  and  the  Author  has 
understood  that  it  was  on  the  Border  she  was  last  seen,  about  the  skirts  of 
the  Cheviot  Hill,  but  without  her  little  flock. 


Note  34. — Shawfield's  Moe,  p.  476. 

In  1725  there  was  a  great  riot  in  Glasgow  on  account  of  the  malt  tax. 
Among  the  troops  brought  in  to  restore  order  was  one  of  the  independent 
companies  of  Highlanders  levied  in  Argyleshire,  and  distinguished  in  a 
lampoon  of  the  period  as  41  Campbell  of  Carrick  and  his  Highland  thieves." 
It  was  called  Shawfield's  Mob,  because  much  of  the  popular  violence  was 
directed  against  Daniel  Campbell,  Esq.,  of  SJiawfield,  M.P.,  provost  of 
the  town. 


628 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Note  35. — Death  of  Francis  Gordon,  p.  499. 

This  exploit  seems  to  have  been  one  in  which  Patrick  Walker  prided 
himself  not  a  little ;  and  there  is  reason  to  fear  that  that  excellent  person 
would  have  highly  resented  the  attempt  to  associate  another  with  him  in 
the  slaughter  of  a  King's  Life  Guardsman.  Indeed,  he  would  have  had 
the  more  right  to  be  offended  at  losing  any  share  of  the  glory,  since  the 
party  against  Gordon  was  already  three  to  one,  besides  having  the  advan- 
tage of  firearms.  The  manner  in  which  he  vindicates  his  claim  to  the  ex- 
ploit, without  committing  himself  by  a  direct  statement  of  it,  is  not  a 
little  amusing.    It  is  as  follows  : 

41  I  shall  give  a  brief  and  true  account  of  that  man's  death,  which  I  did 
not  design  to  do  while  I  was  upon  the  stage.  I  resolve,  indeed  (if  the  Lord 
will),  to  leave  a  more  full  account  of  that  and  many  other  remarkable 
steps  of  the  Lord's  dispensations  towards  me  thorow  my  life.  It  was  then 
commonly  said  that  Francis  Gordon  was  a  volunteer  out  of  wickedness  of 
principles,  and  could  not  stay  with  the  troop,  but  was  still  raging  and 
ranging  to  catch  hiding  suffering  people.  Meldrum  and  Airly' s  troops 
lying  at  Lanark  upon  the  first  day  of  March  1682,  Mr.  Gordon  and  another 
wicked  comrade,  with  their  two  servants  and  four  horses,  came  to  Kil- 
caigow,  two  miles  from  Lanark,  searching  for  William  Caigow  and  others, 
under  hiding.  Mr.  Gordon,  rambling  throw  the  town,  offered  to  abuse 
the  women.  At  night,  they  came  a  mile  further  to  the  easter  seat,  to 
Robert  Muir's,  he  being  also  under  hiding.  Gordon's  comrade  and  the 
two  servants  went  to  bed,  but  he  could  sleep  none,  roaring  all  night  for 
women.  When  day  came,  he  took  only  his  sword  in  his  hand,  and  came 
to  Moss-platt,  and  some  men  (who  had  been  in  the  fields  all  night)  seeing 
him,  they  fled,  and  he  pursued.  James  Wilson,  Thomas  Young,  and  my- 
self, having  been  in  a  meeting  all  night,  were  lyen  down  in  the  morning. 
We  were  alarmed,  thinking  there  were  many  mo  than  one ;  he  pursued 
hard,  and  overtook  us.  Thomas  Young  said,  1  Sir,  what  do  ye  pursue  us 
for?'  He  said,  'He  was  come  to  send  us  to  hell.'  James  Wilson  said, 
4  That  shall  not  be,  for  we  will  defend  ourselves.'  He  said,  'That  either 
he  or  we  should  go  to  it  now.'  He  ran  his  sword  furiously  thorow  James 
Wilson's  coat.  James  fired  upon  him,  but  missed  him.  All  the  time  he 
cried,  1  Damn  his  soul ! '  He  got  a  shot  in  his  head  out  of  a  pocket  pistol, 
rather  fit  for  diverting  a  boy  than  killing  such  a  furious,  mad,  brisk  man, 
which,  notwithstanding,  killed  him  dead.  The  foresaid  William  Caigow 
and  Robert  Muir  came  to  us.  We  searched  him  for  papers,  and  found  a 
long  scroll  of  sufferers'  names,  either  to  kill  or  take.  I  tore  it  all  in  pieces. 
He  had  also  some  Popish  books  and  bonds  of  money,  with  one  dollar, 
which  a  poor  man  took  off  the  ground ;  all  which  we  put  in  his  pocket 
again.  Thus,  he  was  four  miles  from  Lanark,  and  near  a  mile  from  his 
comrade,  seeking  his  own  death  and  got  it.  And  for  as  much  as  we  have 
been  condemned  for  this,  I  could  never  see  how  any  one  could  condemn 
us  that  allows  of  self-defence,  which  the  law  both  of  God  and  nature  al- 
low to  every  creature.  For  my  own  part,  my  heart  never  smote  me  for 
this.  When  I  saw  his  blood  run,  I  wished  that  all  the  blood  of  the  Lord's 
stated  and  avowed  enemies  in  Scotland  had  been  in  his  veins.  Having 
such  a  clear  call  and  opportunity,  I  would  have  rejoiced  to  have  seen  it 
all  gone  out  with  a  gush.  I  have  many  times  wondered  at  the  greater  part 
of  the  indulged,  lukewarm  ministers  and  professors  in  that  time,  who 


NOTES. 


629 


made  more  noise  of  murder  when  one  of  these  enemies  has  been  killed, 
even  in  our  own  defence,  than  of  twenty  of  us  being  murdered  by  them. 
None  of  these  men  present  was  challenged  for  this  but  myself.  Thomas 
Young  thereafter  suffered  at  Machline,  but  was  not  challenged  for  this ; 
Robert  Muir  was  banished  ;  James  Wilson  outlived  the  persecution ; 
William  Caigow  died  in  the  Canongate  tolbooth,  in  the  beginning  of  1685. 
Mr.  Wodrow  is  misinformed,  who  says  that  he  suffered  unto  death"  [pp. 
165-467]. 

Note  36. — Tolling  to  Service  in  Scotland,  p.  518. 

In  the  old  days  of  Scotland,  when  persons  of  property,  unless  they 
happened  to  be  nonjurors,  were  as  regular  as  their  inferiors  in  attendance 
on  parochial  worship,  there  was  a  kind  of  etiquette  in  waiting  till  the 
patron  or  acknowledged  great  man  of  the  parish  should  make  his  appear- 
ance. This  ceremonial  was  so  sacred  in  the  eyes  of  a  parish  beadle  in  the 
Isle  of  Bute,  that,  the  kirk  bell  being  out  of  order,  he  is  said  to  have 
mounted  the  steeple  every  Sunday,  to  imitate  with  his  voice  the  succes- 
sive summonses  which  its  mouth  of  metal  used  to  send  forth,  The  first 
part  of  this  imitative  harmony  was  simply  the  repetition  of  the  words 
"  Bell  bell,  bell  bell,"  two  or  three  times,  in  a  manner  as  much  resembling 
the  sound  as  throat  of  flesh  could  imitate  throat  of  iron.  "Bellum! 
bellum  !  "  was  sounded  forth  in  a  more  urgent  manner ;  but  he  never  sent 
forth  the  third  and  conclusive  peal,  the  varied  tone  of  which  is  called  in 
Scotland  the  "  ringing-in,"  until  the  two  principal  heritors  of  the  parish 
approached,  when  the  chime  ran  thus  : 

Bellum  Bellellum, 
Bernera  and  Knockdow's  coming  ! 

Bellum  Bellellum, 
Bernera  and  Knockdow's  coming  ! 

Thereby  intimating  that  service  was  instantly  to  proceed. — 

Mr.  Macinlay  of  Borrowstounness,  a  native  of  Bute,  states  that  Sir 
Walter  Scott  had  this  story  from  Sir  Adam  Ferguson  ;  but  that  the  gallant 
knight  had  not  given  the  lairds'  titles  correctly — the  bellman's  great  men 
being  Craich,  Drambuie,  and  Barnernie. — 1842  (Laing). 

Note  37. — Ratcliffe,  p.  579. 

There  seems  an  anachronism  in  the  history  of  this  person.  Ratcliffe, 
among  other  escapes  from  justice,  was  released  by  the  Porteous  mob  when 
under  sentence  of  death  ;  and  he  was  again  under  the  same  predicament 
when  the  Highlanders  made  a  similar  jail-delivery  in  1745.  He  was  too 
sincere  a  Whig  to  embrace  liberation  at  the  hands  of  the  Jacobites,  and  in 
reward  was  made  one  of  the  keepers  of  the  tolbooth.  So  at  least  runs  a 
constant  tradition. 


GLOSSARY 

OF 

WORDS,  PHRASES,  AND  ALLUSIONS. 


Abune,  aboon,  above 
Acquent,  acquainted 
Ad  avisandum,  reserved  for  consid- 
eration 

Adjournal,  Books  of.   See  Books 

of  Adjournal 
Adminicle,  a  collateral  proof 
Again,  in  time  for,  before 
Ain,  own 
Am,  early 

Aird's  Moss,  the  scene  of  a  skirmish 

in  Ayrshire,  on  20th  July  1680 
Airn,  iron 

Airt,  to  direct,  point  out  the  way 
Aith,  oath 
Aits,  oats 
Allenarly,  solely 
A-low,  on  fire 

Altringham,  the  mayor  of  (p.  510), 

a  well-known  Cheshire  proverb 
Amaist,  almost 
Ance,  anes,  once 

Andro  Ferrara,  a  Highland  broad- 
sword 

Anker,  10  wine  gallons 

Ansars,  helpers  ;  particularly  those 
inhabitants  of  Medina  who  help- 
ed Mohammed  when  he  fled  from 
Mecca 

Anti-Jacobin,  George  Canning,  the 
statesman,  in  whose  burlesque 
play,  The  Rovers,  or,  Double  Ar- 
rangement, printed  in  The  Anti- 
Jacobin,  the  ghost  of  Prologue's, 
not  the  Author's,  grandmother 
appears 

Aqua  mirabilis,  the  wonderful 
water,  a  cordial  made  of  spirit  of 
wine  and  spices 

Argyle,  Earl  of,  his  attempt  of 
1686,  his  rising  in  Scotland  in  sup- 
port of  Monmouth  in  1685 


Arniston  chield.  Robert  Dundas 
of  Arniston,  the  elder,  succeeded 
Duncan  Forbes  of  Culloden  as 
Lord  President  in  1748 

Arriage  and  carriage,  a  phrasfe  in 
old  Scotch  leases,  but  bearing  no 
precise  meaning 

Assembly  of  Divines,  the  West- 
minster Confession  of  Faith, 
which,  with  the  Longer  and 
Shorter  Catechisms,  constitute  the 
standards  of  doctrine  of  the  Pres- 
byterians 

Artes  perditje,  lost  arts 

Aught,  eight;  aughty-nine,  the 
year  1689 

Aught,  possession 

Auld,  old;  auld  sorrow,  old  wretch 

Ava,  at  all 

Awmous,  alms 

Awmrie,  the  cupboard 

Back-cast,  a  reverse,  misfortune 
Back-friend,  a  supporter,  abettor 
Balfour's  Practiques  ;  or,  A  Sys- 
tem of  the  more  ancient  Law 
of  Scotland  (1754) ,  by  Sir  James 
Balfour,  President  of  the  Court 
of  Session  in  1567 
Band,  bond 

Bark,  Bawtie.     Compare  Sir  D. 

Lynd say's  Complaynt  of  Bagsche 

...  to  Bawtie,  the  King's  Best  Be- 

lovit  Dog 
Barkened,  tanned 
Baron  bailie,  the  baron's  deputy 

in  a  burgh  of  barony 
Bather,   to  fatigue   by  ceaseless 

prating 
Bauld,  brave,  hardy 
Bauson-faced,  having  a  white  spot 

on  the  forehead 


632 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Bawbee,  a  halfpenny 

Baxter,  a  baker 

Bean-hool,  bean-hull,  pod 

Bechounched,  beflounced,  decked 
out  in  ridiculous  fashion 

Bedral,  beadle,  sexton 

Bedreddin  Hassan.  See  Arabian 
Nights :  ' k  Noureddin  and  his  Son" 

Beever,  Belvoir,  the  seat  of  the 
Duke  of  Rutland,  on  the  border 
of  Leicestershire 

Belyve,  directly 

Bend- leather,  thick  sole-leather 

Benefit  of  clergy,  the  right  to 
claim,  like  the  clergy,  exemption 
from  the  civil  courts 

Ben  the  house,  inside,  into  the  in- 
ner room 

Bess  of  Bedlam,  a  female  lunatic 

Bestial^  horned  cattle 

Bicker, *a  wooden  vessel 

Bide,  wait,  stay  ;  bear,  rest  under ; 
bide  a  wee,  wait  a  minute 

Bien,  comfortable 

Biggonets,  a  lady's  headdress 

Bike,  a  hive,  swarm 

Bink,  a  wall  plate-rack 

Birkie,  a  lively  fellow,  young  spark 

Birthnight,  the  court  festival  held 
on  the  evening  of  a  royal  birth- 
day 

Bittock,  a  little  bit,  proverbially  a 
considerable  distance 

Black,  Dr.  David,  a  zealous  Scot- 
tish Presbyterian  in  the  reign  of 
James  VI. 

Blair,  Robert,  a  prominent  Pres- 
byterian minister,  of  Bangor  in 
Ireland 

Blink,  a  glance 

Blue  plums,  bullets 

Bluidy  Mackenzie,  Sir  George, 
Lord  Advocate,  and  an  active 
prosecutor  of  the  Cameronians  in 
the  reign  of  Charles  II. 

Boddle,  &th  of  a  penny 

Boobie,  the  lowest  scholar  on  the 
form,  a  dunce 

Books  of  Adjournal,  containing 
the  minutes  and  orders,  especial- 
ly of  adjournal,  of  the  Court  of 
Judiciary  of  Scotland,  it  being 
a  peremptory  court 

Boot-hose,  coarse  blue  worsted  hose 
worn  in  place  of  boots 

Bouking  -  washing,  the  annual 
washing  of  the  family  linen  in  a 
peculiar  ley  (bouk) 

Bountith,  a  perquisite 


Bourock,  a  mound,  hillock 

Bow,  a  boll  (measure) 

Bow-head,  leading  from  the  High- 
Street  to  the  Grassmarket  in  Edin- 
burgh 

Bowie,  a  milk-pail 

Braw,  brave,  fine,  good ;  braws, 
fine  clothes 

Brecham,  collar  of  a  cart-horse 

Brockit  (cow),  with  a  speckled 
face 

Brogue,  a  Highland  shoe 

Broo,  taste  for,  opinion  of 

Brose,  oatmeal  over  which  boiling 
water  has  been  poured 

Bruce,  Robert,  of  Edinburgh,  a 
champion  of  spiritual  authority 
in  the  reign  of  James  VI. 

Brugh  and  land,  town  and  coun- 
try 

Bruilzie,  a  scuffle,  tumult 

Brunstane,  brimstone,  sulphur 

Buckholmside,  a  village  of  Rox- 
burghshire close  to  Galashiels 

Buller,  to  bellow 

Bull  of  Phalaris,  an  invention 
for  roasting  people  alive,  devised 
by  Phalaris,  ruler  of  Agrigentum 
in  ancient  Sicily— so  tradition 

Bullsegg,  a  gelded  bull 

Busk,  to  dress  up,  arrange 

Bye,  besides,  past 

Byre,  cow-house,  cow-shed 

Ca\  so  call 

Cesarean  process,  a  surgical  oper- 
ation to  secure  delivery  (as  in  the 
case  of  Csesar) 

Cag,  a  small  cask 

Caird,  a  strolling  tinker 

Calendar  wanting  an  eye.  See 
Arabian  Nights:  "Story  of  the 
First  Calendar" 

Callant,  a  lad 

Caller,  fresh 

Calliver-men,  men   armed  with 

muskets 

Cambrian  antiquary,  Thomas  Pen- 
nant, the  traveller 

Campvere  skipper,  a  trader  to  Hol- 
land. Campvere  or  Cam  ph ire, 
on  the  island  of  Walcheren,  was 
the  seat  of  a  privileged  Scottish 
trading  factory  from  1444  to  1795 

Canny,  propitious,  auspicious 

Canty,  mirthful,  jolly 

Caption,  a  writ  to  imprison  a 
debtor 

Carcake,  or  carecake,  a  small  cake 


1 


GLOSSARY. 


633 


baked  with  eggs  and  eaten  on 
Shrove  Tuesday,  in  Scotland 
Carle,  a  fellow 

Carline,  a  bedlam,  old  woman 

Caroline  Park.    See  Roystoun 

Carried,  the  mind  wavering,  wan- 
dering 

Carritch,  the  Catechism 

Cast,  lot,  fate  ;  a  throw ;  a  lift,  ride 

Cast-bye,  a  castaway 

Ca' -throw,  an  ado,  a  row 

Cato's  daughter,  Porcia,  wife  of 
Brutus,  who  stabbed  Caesar 

Cato  the  Censor,  the  celebrated 
Roman,  wrote  a  book  about  rural 
affairs 

Cauld,  cold 

Cauldriffe,  chilly 

Cautelous,  cautious,  careful 

Cela  etoit  autrefois,  etc.  (p.  602), 
it  used  to  be  so,  but  we  have 
changed  all  that  now 

Cessio  bonorum,  surrender  of  ef- 
fects 

Chafts,  jaws 

Chalders,  an  old  dry  measure  = 
nearly  16  qrs.  of  corn 

Chamber  of  deas,  the  best  bed- 
room 

Chance-medley,  an  undesigned 
occurrence  not  purely  accidental 

Change-house,  a  small  inn 

Chappit,  struck  (of  a  clock) 

Chappit  back,  beaten,  deterred, 
daunted 

Cheverons,  gloves 

Chield,  a  young  fellow 

Chop,  a  shop 

Clachan,  a  Highland  hamlet 

Clause,  claes,  claiths,  clothes 

Clarissimus  ictus,  one  who  is  a 
famous  lawyer 

Clat,  a  hoard  of  money 

Clavers,  foolish  gossip 

Claw  up  mittens,  to  rebuke  severe- 
ly, tell  home  truths 

Cleckit,  hatched 

Cleek,  to  catch,  seize 

Cleugh,  a  ravine 

Close-head,  the  entra-  ce  of  a  blind 
alley,  a  favourite  rendezvous  for 
gossips 

Clubbed  (of  hair),  gathered  into 
a  club-shaped  knot  at  the  back  of 
the  head 

Clute,  a  hoof,  single  beast 

Cocceian,  a  follower  of  John  Coc- 
ceius  of  Leyden  (d.  1669),  who 
held  that   the   Old  Testament 


shadowed  forth  the  history  of  the 

Christian  Church 
Cockernonie,  a  lady's  top-knot 
Cod,  a  pillow,  cushion 
Cognosce,  to  examine  judicially  for 

insanity 

Columella,  a  Raman  writer  on 
agriculture  and  similar  topics 

Commentaries  on  Scottish  Crim- 
inal Jurisprudence,  1797,  by 
David  Hume,  Baron  of  the  Ex- 
chequer in  Scotland 

Comus,  by  Milton 

Condescendence,  an  enumeration 
of  particulars,  a  Scots  law  term 

CoNFESSIO  EXTRAJUDICIALIS,  etc.  (p. 

279) ,  an  unofficial  confession  is  a 
nullity  and  cannot  be  quoted  in 
evidence 

Couch  a  hogshead,  to  lie  down  to 
sleep 

Coup,  to  overturn  ;  to  barter 

Couth y,  agreeable,  pleasing 

Cowley's  complaint,  His  poem  with 
that  title,  stanza  4 

Cowt,  a  colt 

Crack,  gossip,  talk 

Craft,  a  croft,  small  farm 

Craigmillar,  a  castle  near  Edin- 
burgh, a  residence  of  Queen  Mary 

Creagh,  stolen  cattle  ;  a  foray 

Crepe,  to  curl,  crimp 

Crewels,  cruels,  scrofulous  swell- 
ings on  the  neck 

Criffel,  a  mountain  on  the  Scot- 
tish side  of  the  Solway.  When 
Skiddaw  is  capped  with^  clouds, 
rain  falls  soon  after  on  Criffel 

Crining,  pining 

Crook,  a  hough,  to  bend  a  joint, 

especially  the  knee-joint 
Cruppen,  crept 

Cuffin,  queer,  a  justice  of  peace 
Cuivis  ex  populo,  one  of  the  peo- 
ple 
Cull,  a  fool 

Cummer,  a  comrade,  gossip 
Cumrays,  or  Cumbraes,  in  the  Firth 

of  Clyde 
Curch,  a  woman's  cap 
Cu'ross,  Culross,  a  village  on  the 

Firth  of  Forth 
Curpel,  crupper 

Cutter's  law,  thieves'  or  rogues' 
law 

Cutty  quean,  a  worthless  young  wo- 
man 

Daffing,  frolicsome  jesting 


634 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Daft,  crazy,  beside  oneself 
Da  idling,  trifling,  loitering 
Daiker,  to  saunter,  jog  along 
Dalkeith,  one  of  the  seats  of  the 

Duke  of  Buccleuch 
Dallas  on  Styles  ;  or,  System  of 
Stiles  as  now  practicable  with- 
in the    Kingdom  of  Scotland, 
1697,  by  George  Dallas,  sometime 
deputy-keeper  of  the  privy  seal 
of  Scotland 
Darg,  a  day's  work 
Deas,  chamber  of,  the  best  bed- 
room 
Deave,  to  deafen 

Debito  tempore,  at  the  proper  time 

De  die  in  diem,  from  day  to  day 

Deevil's  buckie,  a  limb  of  Satan 

Deil  haet,  the  devil  a  bit 

Demens,  qui  nimbos,  etc.  (p.  18),  the 
madman,  who  sought  to  rival  the 
rainclouds  and  the  inimitable 
thunder,  with  brazen  din  and  the 
tread  of  horny-hoofed  steeds 

Demi-pique  saddle,  one  with  low 
peaks  or  points 

Ding,  to  knock 

Dinnle,  a  thrilling  blow 

Dirl,  a  thrilling  knock 

Dit,  to  stop,  close  up  (the  mouth) 

Dittay,  indictment 

Divot,  a  thin  flat  turf ;  divot-cast, 
a  turf-pit 

Doch  an'  dorroch,  a  stirrup-cup, 
parting-cup 

Doer,  an  agent,  factor 

Doited,  stupid,  confused 

Donnard,  stupid 

Donnot,  or  donaught,  a  good-for- 
nothing  person 

Doo,  a  dove 

Dookit,  ducked 

Dooms,  utterly 

Door-cheek,  the  door-post 

Double  Carritch,  the  Larger  Cate- 
chism of  the  Church  of  Scotland 

Douce,  quiet,  respectable 

Dought,  was  able  to 

Dour,  stubborn,  obstinate 

Dow,  to  be  able  ;  downa,  do  not  like 
to 

Dreich,  slow,  leisurely 
Drow,  a  qualm 

Dry  multure,  a  duty  of  corn  paid 
to  a  miller 

Duds,  ragged  clothes;  duddy,  ragged 

Dulcis  Amaryllidis  ir^:,  the  an- 
ger of  gentle  woman 

Dunch,  to  jog  or  punch 


D'une  grande  dame,  of  a  great  lady, 

lady  of  fashion 
Dunlop  (cheese),  in  Ayrshire 
Durk,  or  dirk,  a  Highlander's  dag- 
ger 

Dyester,  a  dyer 

Eclaircissement,  an  explanation 

Edict  Naut^:,  etc.,  in  ancient  Rome, 
imposed  liability  for  loss  or  dam- 
age to  property  committed  to 
carriers,  innkeepers,  and  stable- 
keepers 

Ee,  eye  ;  een,  eyes 

Effectual  calling.  See  The  Short- 
er Catechism,  Qu.  31 

Effeir  of,  equivalent  to 

Eik,  to  add 

Elshin,  an  awl 

Eme,  uncle 

Emery,  John,  actor  who  excelled 
in  rustic  parts,  and  played  Dandie 
Dinmont,  RatclifFe,  and  similar 
character  of  Scott's  novels 
Eneuch,  eneugh,  enow,  enough 
Enlevement,  the  abduction  of  the 
heroine 

Ethwald,  one  of  Joanna  Baillie's 
Plays  on  the  Passions,  this  one 
turning  on  Ambition.  The  pas- 
sage is  from  Part  I.  Act  iii.  Sc.  5 

Exauctorate,  to  dismiss  from  ser- 
vice 

Ex  jure  sanguinis,  by  blood,  he- 
redity 

Fama  clamosa,  notoriety 

Farinaceus,  or  Farinacius,  Pros- 
per Farinacci,  a  celebrated  Roman 
writer  on  criminal  jurisprudence, 
lived  1544-1613 

Fash,  trouble  ;  to  trouble ;  fash- 
ious,  troublesome 

Fasherie,  trouble 

Fathers  Conscript,  the  senators  of 
ancient  Rome;  here  the  chosen 
fathers  ( of  the  town) 

Fatuus,  furiosus,  naturaliter  id- 
iota,  foolish,  mad,  born  idiot 

Fauld,  to  fold 

Fause  Monteath,  the  reputed  be- 
trayer of  Wallace 
Faut,  fault 

Feckless,  insignificant,  feeble 
Fend,  to  provide 

Ferguson,  or  Fergusson,  Robert, 
Scottish  poet,  born  1750,  died  1774 
File,  to  foul,  disorder 
Fit,  foot 


GLOSSARY. 


635 


Flats  and  sharps,  sword,  using  the 

sword 
Flee,  a  fly 
Fleg,  a  fright 

Fliskmahoy,  a  giddy,  thoughtless 
person 

Flow-moss,  a  morass 

Footman,  running.  See  Note  9  to 
Bride  of  Lammermoor 

Foranent,  directly  opposite  to 

Forbear,  forefather 

Forbes,  Duncan,  appointed  Lord 
President  of  the  Court  of  Session 
in  1737.    See  footnote,  p.  454 

Forbye,  besides 

Fore-hammer,  sledge-hammer 

Forgather,  to  come  together,  be- 
come intimate 

Forpit,  £th  of  a  peck 

Fou,  full,  drunk 

Frigate  Whins,  more  correctly 
Figgate  Whins,  a  tract  of  sand 
hillocks  and  whin  bushes  between 
Portobello  and  Leith 

Fugit,  etc.  (p.  161),  time  is  flying 
beyond  recall 

Fyke,  to  move  restlessly  in  the 
same  place 

Gait-milk,  goat-milk 
Gaitts,  or  gytes,  or  getts,  brats, 
urchins 

Gaius  (Lincolnshire),  the  Host  in 
Pilgrim's  Progress 

Gallio.    See  Acts  xviii.  12-27 

Game  arm,  a  crooked,  lame  arm 

Gang,  to  go 

Gar,  to  make,  oblige 

Gardyloo,  from  French  gardez  Veau, 
an  Edinburgh  cry  when  dirty 
water  was  thrown  out  of  a  window 

Gare-brained,  giddy,  thoughtless 

Gate,  gait,  way,  direction,  man- 
ner ;  nae  gate,  nowhere 

Gaun,  going 

Gaun  pleas,  pending  lawsuits 

Gaunt,  to  yawn 

Gawsie,  grand,  fine 

Gay  sure,  pretty  sure ;  gay  and 

well,  pretty  well 
Gear,  property 

Gee,  to  take  the,  to  take  the  pet, 

turn  pettish 
Gie,  give ;  gien,  given 
Gif-gaf,  mutual  giving 
Gilpy,  gilpie,  a  lively  young  girl 
Girdle,  a  circular  iron  plate  for 

baking  scones,  cakes 
Girn,  to  grin,  grimace 


Glaiks,  to  fling  the,  in  one's  een, 

to  deceive,  blind 
Glede,  gled,  the  kite 
Gleg,  active,  keen  ;  gleg  as  a  gled, 

hungry  as  a  hawk 
Gliff,  an  instant 

Glim,  a  light,  hence  anything  at 
all 

Glower,  to  stare  hard 

Gorbals,  a  suburb  on  the  south  side 

of  Glasgow 
Gousty,  dreary,  haunted 
Goutte,  a  drop 
Gowan,  a  dog  daisy 
Gowden,  golden 

Gowpen,  a  double  handful  of  meal, 
the  perquisite  of  a  miller's  servant 

Graith,  apparatus  of  any  kind, 
harness 

Grantham  gruel,  a  Lincolnshire 

proverb,  ridiculing  exaggerations 

of  speech 
Grat,  wept 
Gree,  to  agree 
Gree,  pre-eminence 
Greeshoch,   a   turf  fire  without 

flame,  smouldering  embers 
Greet,  to  cry,  weep 
Grey-peard,  or  grey-beard,  a  stone 

jug  for  holding  ale  or  liquor 
Gudeman,  the  husband,  head  of  the 

house 
Gudesire,  grandfather 
Gudewife,  the  wife,  head  of  the 

household 
Guide,  to  treat,  direct;  guiding, 

treatment 
Gulley,  a  large  knife 
Guse's  grass,  the  area  of  grass  a 

goose  grazes  during  the  summer 
Gutter-blood,  one  meanly  born 
Gybe,  a  pass 

Gyte,  a  young  boy ;  clean  gyte, 
quite  crazy 

Hadden,  held 

Haddo's  Hole,  a  portion  of  the 
nave  of  the  ancient  collegiate 
church,  now  incorporated  with 
St.  Giles'  Cathedral,  Edinburgh 

Haffets,  temples 

Hafflins,    young,    entering  the 

teens 

Haft,  custody  ;  to  establish,  fix 
Hagbuts  of  found,  firearms  made 

of  cast  metal  (found) 
Hale,  or  haill,  whole,  entire 
Hallan,  a  partition  in  a  Scotch 

cottage 


636 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Hand-waled,  remarkable,  notori- 
ous 

Harle,  to  trail,  drag 
Haud,  hold 

Havings,  behaviour,  manners 
Hawkit,  white-faced,  having  white 

spots  or  streaks 
Heal,  health,  felicity  ;  healsome, 

wholesome 
Hellicat,  wild,  desperate 
Hempie,  a  rogue 

Heritors,  the    landowners    in  a 

Scotch  parish 
Herse,  hoarse 

Hership,   plundering    by  armed 

force 
Het,  hot 

Highland  Host.  See  Highland  men 
in  1677,  in  Glossary  to  Old  Mor- 
tality 

Hinny,  honey,  a  term  of  affection 

Hirplin',  limping 

Hit  (at  backgammon),  a  game,  a 
move  in  the  game 

Hog,  a  sheep  older  than  a  lamb 
that  has  not  been  shorn 

Holborn  Hill  backward,  the  po- 
sition of  criminals  on  their  way 
to  execution  at  Tyburn 

Holland,  fens  of,  the  southern 
division  of  Lincolnshire,  adjoin- 
ing the  Wash 

Homologate,  to  approve,  ratify, 
sanction 

How,  a  hollow 

Howdie,  a  midwife 

Howff,  a  haunt 

Hussy,  a  housewife  case,  needlecase 

Ilk,  ilka,  each ;    ilk,  the  same 

name  ;  ilka-day,  e very-day 
Imposthumes,  abscesses,  collections 

of  pus 
In  bye,  inside  the  house 
In  com  mend  am,  in  conjunction  with 
In  confitentem,  etc.  (p.  279),  the 

judge's   function    ceases  when 

there  is  confession  of  the  crime 
Ingan,  an  onion 
Ingine,  ingenuity,  talent 
In  hoc  statu,  in  this  case1 
Inimicitiam  contra,  etc.  (p.  303), 

enmity  against  all  mankind 
In  initialibus,  to  begin  with 
In  loco  parentis,  in  place  of  the 

parent 
Input,  contribution 
In  rem  versam,  chargeable  against 

the  estate 


Inter  apices  juris,  on  high  points 
of  law 

Inter  parietes,  within  doors 
Inter  rusticos,  a  mere  rustic 
Intonuit  ljevum,  the  thunder  is 

heard  on  the  left 
Intromit  with,  to  interfere  with 

Jagg,  a  prick 

James's  place  of  refuge,  in  1595 
Jark,  a  seal 
Jaud,  a  jade 

Jink,  a  dodge,  lively  trick 
Jo,  a  sweetheart 
Jow,  to  toll 

Jus  divinum,  divine  right 

Kail,  or  kale,  cabbage,  broth  made 
of  greens,  dinner  ;  kail  -  worm, 
caterpillar ;  kale-yard,  vegetable 
garden 

Kain,  or  cane,  a  rent  paid  in  kind 
Kame,  to  comb 

Kay's  caricatures,  in  A  Series  of 
Portraits  and  Caricature  Etchings  of 
Old  Edinburgh  characters,  by 
John  Kay,  1837-38  ;  new  ed.,  1877 

Keelyvine,  a  lead  pencil 

Kenspeckle,  conspicuous,  odd 

Killing  time,  the  Covenanters' 
name  for  the  period  of  Claver- 
house's  persecutions  in  the  West 
of  Scotland 

Kittle,  ticklish,  slippery 

Knaveship,  a  small  due  in  meal 
paid  to  the  under-miller 

Kye,  cows 

Kythe,  to  seem  or  appear 

Laiking,  sporting,  larking 
Lamour,  amber 

Landward,  inland,  country-bred 

Lane,  alone ;  their  lane,  them- 
selves 

Lauch,  law 

Lavrock,  a  lark 

La  wing,  the  account,  bill 

Lawyers  from  Holland.  Many  of 
the  Scottish  lawyers  and  doctors 
were  educated  at  Leyden  and 
Utrecht  in  the  17th  and  18  cen- 
turies 

Lay,  on  the,  on  the  lookout 

Leap,  Laurence,  you're  long 
enough,  An  adaptation  or  ex- 
tension of  the  proverbial  Lazy 
Lawrence  or  Long  Lawrence 

Leasing-making,  high  treason 

Lee,  a  lie 


GLOSSARY. 


637 


Leicester  beans,  extensively  grown 
in  Leicestershire  ;  hence  the  prov- 
erb, u  Shake  a  Leicestershire  man 
by  the  collar,  and  you  shall  hear 
the  beans  rattle  in  his  belly ' ' 
Lennox,  the,  a  former  county  of 
Scotland,  embracing  Dumbarton- 
shire and  parts  of  Stirlingshire, 
Perthshire,  and  Renfrewshire 
Lese-majesty,  treason 
Lift,  the  sky 
Limmer,  a  jade,  scoundrel 
Lincolnshire  Gaius.    See  Gaius 
Linn,  a  cascade,  waterfall 
Lippen,  to  rely  upon,  trust  to 
Livingstone,  *  John,  an  influential 
Presbyterian  during  the  Common- 
wealth, minister  at  Stranraer  and 
Ancrum 

Livingstone,  John,  sailor  in  Bor- 
rowstounness.  See  Patrick  Walk- 
er's Life  of  Peden,  p.  107 

Lock,  the  perquisite  of  a  servant  in 
a  mill,  usually  a  handful  (lock) 
or  two  of  meal 

Lockermachus,  the  local  pronun- 
ciation in  Scott's  day  of  Longfor- 
macus,  a  village  in  Berwickshire 

Lockington  wake,  a  Leicestershire 
yearly  merrymaking  or  festival 

Loco  tutoris,  in  the  place  of  a  guar- 
dian 

Loof,  the  palm  of  the  hand 
Loot,  let,  permitted 
Lord  of  seat,  a  judge 
Lord  of  state,  a  nobleman 
Lound,  quiet,  tranquil 
Lounder,  to  thump,  beat 
Low,  a  flame 

Lowe,  John,  author  of  "  Mary's 
Dream,"  died  1798.  See  biogra- 
phy in  Remains  of  Galloway  Song 
(1810) 

Luckie,  a  title  given  to  old  women 
Luckie  dad,  grandfather 
Lug,  the  ear 
Lum,  a  chimney 
Lying-dog,  a  kind  of  setter 

Macheath,  a  highwayman,  the 
hero  of  Gay's  Beggar's  Opera 

Magg  (coals),  to  give  short  quan- 
tity, purloining  the  difference 

Maggot,  a  whim,  crotchet 

Magna  est  Veritas,  etc.  (p.  28), 
truth  is  great,  and  prevail  it  will 

Mail,  to  stain 

Mail-duties,  rent ;  mailing,  or 
mail,  a  farm  rent 


Mair  by  token,  especially  as 
Maistry,  mastery,  power 
Man-sworn,  perjured 
Manty,  mantle 

Manu  .  .  .  non  belle,  etc.  (p.  547) 
it  is  not  becoming  to  lift  one's 
hand  in  jest  and  over  the  wine. 
See  Catullus,  xii. 

Maritornes,  a  coarse  serving-wench 
whom  Don  Quixote  mistook  for  a 
lady  of  noble  birth 

Mark  of  Bellgrave.  See  "Same 
again,"  etc. 

Mashackered,  clumsily  cut,  hacked 

Mass  John,  a  parson 

Matheus,  or  Matthjeus,  Anton, 
one  of  a  family  of  celebrated  Ger- 
man writers  on  jurisprudence, 
the  l*  second  "  Anton  professor  at 
Utrecht  from  1636  to  1654 

Maukin,  a  hare 

Maun,  must 

Maunder,  to  talk  incoherently,  non- 
sense 
Maut,  malt 
Maw,  to  mow 
Meal- ark,  meal-chest 
Mear,  a  mare 
Mell,  to  meddle 

Men  of  Marsh  am,  etc.,  a  Lincoln- 
shire proverb,  signifying  disun- 
ion is  the  cause  of  ill-success 

Mensefu',  becoming,  mannerly 

Merk=1s.  l^d. 

Merse,  Berwickshire 

Messan,  a  lapdog,  cur 

Mexican  monarch.  Guatemozin, 
the  Aztec  emperor  who,  when 
put  to  the  torture  by  Cortes  re- 
proached a  fellow-sufferer,  groan- 
ing with  anguish,  by  asking  "  Do 
you  think  then  I  am  enjoying  my 
bed  (lit.  bath)  of  flowers?  " 

Midden,  a  dunghill 

Mile,  Scottish,  about  nine  fur- 
longs 

Milled,  robbed 

Mtnnie,  mamma 

Misca',  to  abuse,  malign 

Misguggle,  to  disfigure 

Misset,  displeased,  out  of  humour 

Miss  Katies,  mosquitoes 

Mister,  want 

Mixen,  a  dunghill 

Moe,  or  mo,  more 

Monson,  Sir  William,  admiral, 
fought  against  the  Spaniards  and 
Dutch  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth 
and  James  I. 


638 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Monteath,  fause,  the  reputed  be- 
trayer of  Wallace  to  the  English 

Morison's  Decisions,  with  fuller 
title,  Decisions  of  the  Court  of  Ses- 
sio?i  [Edinburgh]  .  .  .  in  the  form 
of  a  Dictionary,  by  W.  M.  Mori- 
son,  40  vols.,  1801-11 

Moss-hag,  a  pit  in  a  peat  moor 

Motty,  full  of  motes 

44  Much  have  I  fear'd,"  etc.  (p.  27), 
from  Crabbe's  Borough,  Letter 
xx. 

Muckle,  much 

Muir-ill,  a  disease  amongst  black 
cattle 

Muir-poots,  young  grouse 
Mull,  a  snuff-box 
Multure,  dry.    See  Dry  Multure 
Mutch,  a  woman's  cap 
Mutchkin,  a  liquid  measure,  con- 
taining |  pint 

Naut^e,  cau pones,  etc.    See  Edict 

Nautse 
Neger,  nigger 

Nemo  me  impune  lacessit,  no 
one  wounds  me  with  impunity — 
the  motto  that  accompanies  the 
thistle,  the  badge  of  the  crown  of 
Scotland 

Nick  Moll  Blood,  to  cheat  the  gal- 
lows 

Niffering,  haggling ;  niffers,  an 
exchange ;  put  his  life  in  a  nif- 
fer,  put  his  life  at  stake,  in  jeop- 
ardy 

Nihil  interest  de  possessione,  the 
question  of  possession  is  imma- 
terial 

Noited,  rapped,  struck  smartly 
Non  constat,  it  is  not  certain 
Non  cuivis,  etc.  (p.  62),  it  is  not 
every  one  that  can  gain  admit- 
tance to  the  (select)  society  of 
Corinth 

Noop,  the  bone  at  the  elbow-joint 
Nor'  Loch,  a  swamp  in  Edinburgh, 

now  Princes  Street  Gardens 
Nowte,  cattle 

Oe,  a  grandchild 

On-ding,  a  heavy  fall  (of  snow) 

Optat  ephippia,  etc.  (p.  63),  the 

sluggish  ox  wishes  for  the  horse's 

trappings 
Ordinar,  after  her,  as  is  usual 

with  her 

Ormond,  James  iiutler,  first  Duke 
of,  was  for  seven  years  in  disfa- 


vour through  the  intrigues  of 
enemies 

Orrery,  a  mechanism  representing 
the  motions  of  the  planets 

Out-bye,  out  of  doors ;  beyond, 
without 

Outgate,  ostentatious  display 

OUTSIGHT  AND  INSIGHT  PLENISHING, 

goods  belonging  to  the  outside 
and  inside  of  the  house  respect- 
ively 

Ower-bye,  over  the  way 
Owrelay,  a  cravat 

Padder,  a  highwayman;  on  the 
pad,  a  highwayman  on  the  look- 
out for  victims 

Pair,  a  blow 

Paip.  the  Pope 

Paitrick,  a  partridge 

Palmer,  John,  of  Bath,  greatly  im- 
proved the  mail-coaches  in  the 
end  of  the  18th  century 

Parochine,  parish 

Parsonage,  a  contribution  for  the 
support  of  a  parson 

Par  voie  du  fait,  by  assault,  act  of 
violence 

Passements,  gold,  silver,  or  silk 
lace ;  passemented,  laced 

Pauvre  honteux,  poor  and  hum- 
ble-minded man 

Pave,  the  road,  highway 

Pearlin-lace,  bone  lace,  made  of 
thread  or  silk 

Peat,  proud,  a  person  of  intolera- 
ble pride 

Peat-hag,  a  pit  in  a  peat  moor 

Peden,  Alexander,  a  celebrated 
Covenanting  leader.  See  Old  Mor- 
tality, Note  38 

Peeble,  to  pelt  with  stones 

Pen-gun,  cracking  like  a,  gabbling 
like  a  penguin 

Pennant,  Thomas,  a  keenly  observ- 
ant naturalist  and  traveller  of  the 
18th  century 

Pennecuick,  Alexander,  M.D.,  of 
Newhall,  near  Edinburgh,  author 
of  Historical  Account  of  the  Blue 
Blanket ;  died  in  1722 

Penny,  Scots=tMi  of  a  penny  Eng- 
lish 

Pennystane,  a  stone  quoit 
Penny  wedding,  one  at  which  the 
expenses  are  met  by  the  guests' 
contributions.  See  Burt's  Letters 
from  the  North  of  Scotland,  Letter 
xi. 


GLOSSARY. 


639 


Pentland,  or  Rullion  Green, 
where  Dalziel  routed  the  Gallo- 
way Whigs  in  1666 

Peregrine  [Bertie],  Lord  Wil- 
loughby,  one  of  Elizabeth's  cap- 
tains. The  lines  quoted  are  from 
"The  Brave  Lord  Willoughby" 
in  Percy's  Reliques 

Perfervidum,  etc.  (p.  30),  the  fiery 
nature  of  the  Scots 

Per  vigilias  et  insidias,  by  snares 
and  ambush 

Pessimi  exempli,  the  worst  of  pre- 
cedents, examples 

Pettle,  to  indulge,  pamper 

Pibroch,  a  bagpipe  tune,  usually 
for  the  gathering  of  a  clan 

Pickle  in  thine  ain  pokenook,  de- 
pend on  thy  own  exertions 

Picqueerings,  bickerings,  disputes 

Picturesque.    See  Price 

Pigg,  an  earthenware  vessel,  pitcher 

Pike,  to  pick 

Pillion  mail,  baggage  carried  on  a 

pillion 
Pirn,  a  reel 
Pit,  put 

Pitcairn,  Dr.,  a  well-known  Edin- 
burgh physician,  died  in  1713, 
who  showed  skill  in  writing  Latin 
verse 

Placed  minister,  one  holding  an 

ecclesiastical  charge 
Plack,  £d  of  a  penny 
Plague,  trouble,  annoyance 
Planked    a    chury,   concealed  a 

knife 

Pleasaunts,  or  Pleasance,  a  part 
of  Edinburgh,  between  the  Cow- 
gate  and  Salisbury  Crags 

Plenishing,  furniture 

Plough-gate,  as  much  land  as  can 
be  tilled  by  one  plough 

Ploy,  a  spree,  game 

Pock,  a  poke,  bag 

Pococurante,  an  easy-going,  indif- 
ferent person 

Pcena  ordinaria,  usual  punishment 

Poet  of  Grasmere,  Wordsworth 

Poffle,  a  small  farm,  piece  of  land 

Point  devise,  in  or  with  the  great- 
est exactitude,  propriety 

Pollrumptious,  unruly,  restive 

Pontages,  bridge-tolls 

Poorfu',  powerful 

Poppi^ng,  purling,  rippling 

Poquelin,  the  r3al  name  of  Moliere 

Porteous  Mob.  The  actual  order 
of  events  was  —  Robertson's  es- 


cape, 11th  April  1736  ;  Wilson's 
execution,  14th  April ;  Queen's 
pardon  for  Porteous  reached 
Edinburgh,  2d  September;  riot 
took  place,  7th  September;  Por- 
teous's  execution  was  fixed  for  8th 
September 
Pow,  the  head 

Price's  appropriate  phrase,  pic- 
turesque— an  allusion  to  Sir  Uve- 
dale  Price's  Essay  on  the  Pictur- 
esque, 1796 

Prigg,  to  entreat,  beg  for 

Prokitor,  a  procurator,  solicitor 

Propine,  a  gift 

Pund  Scots  =1s.  8d. 

Purn,  a  burn,  stream 

Pytkit,  picked,  pilfered 

Quadrille  table,  a  game  at  cards, 
not  unlike  ombre  with  a  fourth 
player 

Quarry  Holes,  where  duels  were 
frequently   fought,    and  female 
criminals  sometimes  drowned,  at 
the  foot  of  Calton  Hill,  not  far 
from   Holyrood    Palace,  Edin- 
burgh 
Quean,  a  young  woman 
Queer  cuffin,  a  justice  of  peace 
Queering,  quizzing,  making  fun 
Queer  the  noose,  the  stifler,  es- 
cape the  gallows 
Quey,  a  young  cow 
Quillet,  a  quibble,  subtlety 
Quivis  ex  populo,  any  ordinary 
citizen 

Quodammodo,  in  a  manner,  certain 
measure 

QUOS  DILIGAT  CASTIGAT  (p.  66),  whom 

He  loveth  He  chasteneth 
Quotha,  forsooth 

Rabble,  to  mob 

Rannel-trees,  a  beam  across  the 
fireplace  for  suspending  a  pot  on 

Rapping,  swearing  falsely 

Rari  apparent  nantes,  etc.  (p.  21), 
they  appear  swimming,  widely 
scattered,  in  the  vast  deep 

Ratt-rhyme,  doggerel  verses,  re- 
peated by  rote 

Rax,  to  stretch 

Reck  an,  pining,  miserable 

Red,  to  counsel,  advise 

Redding  up,  clearing  up 

Reek,  smoke 

Remedium  miserabile,  sad  remedy 
for  misfortune 


640 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Renwick,  Mr.  James,  the  last  of 
the  "martyrs"  of  the  Covenant, 
executed  at  Edinburgh  on  17th 
February  1688 

Riding  of  Parliament,  the  proces- 
sion of  dignitaries  on  their  way  to 
open  a  new  session 

Rin,  to  run 

Rinthereout,  a  houseless  vagrant 
Ripe,  to  search 
Rive,  to  tear 
Rokelay,  a  short  cloak 
Rooms,  portions  of  land,  to  own  or 
occupy 

Rosa  solis,  a  cordial,  formerly  in 
great  repute,  made  of  spirits  fla- 
voured with  cinnamon,  orange- 
flower,  etc. 

Rouping,  selling  off,  auctioning 

Roupit,  hoarse 

Roving,  raving 

Rowing,  rolling,  revolving 

Roystoun,  a  mansion  belonging  to 
the  Duke  of  Argyle  at  Cramond, 
near  Edinburgh  ;  it  stood  in  Caro- 
line Park 

Rubbit,  robbed 

Rue,  taen  the,  repented  of 

Ruffler,  a  bullying  beggar  or  thief 

Running  footman.  See  Note  9  to 
Bride  of  Lammermoor 

Sackless,  innocent,  guileless 
Sain,  to  bless 

St.   Nicholas's  clerks,  highway- 
men 
Sair,  sore,  much 

Salmoneus,  a  mythical  king  who, 
arrogantly  imitating  Zeus,  was 
slain  by  his  own  thunderbolt. 
See  Demens,  etc. 

"  Same  again,  quoth  Mark  of 
Bellgrave,"  a  Leicestershire 
proverb.  The  story  goes  that  a 
militia  officer,  exercising  his  men 
before  the  lord-lieutenant,  became 
confused,  and  continued  to  order 
"  The  same  again  " 

Sam  en,  the  old,  the  same  as  before 

Sark,  a  shirt 

Sark  foot,  the  lower  portion  of  the 
boundary  stream  between  Eng- 
land and  Scotland 

Sassenach,  Saxon,  that  is,  English 

Saunt,  saint 

Saut,  salt 

Scaith,  scathe,  harm 
Scart,  a  scratch 
Sclate,  slate 


Scomfish,  to  suffocate 

Scouping,  skipping 

Scour,  to  thrust  (a  knife) 

Scraughin',  screeching,  screaming 

Screed,  a  mass,  string 

Scrimgeour,  John,  minister  oi 
Kinghorn,  resisted  the  authority 
of  his  bishop  to  depose  him,  in 
1620 

Scud,  a  sudden  shower 

Sed  transeat,  etc.  (p.  253),  but  let 

it  pass  with  other  blunders 
Seil,  to  sile,  strain 
Seip,  to  ooze 
Sell  o'  ye.  yourself 
Set,  to  suit,  become 
Shankit,  handled 
Shoon,  shoes 
Sic,  siccan,  such 

Sight  for  sair  een,  a  most  welcome 
sight 

Signet,  writer  to.    See  Writer 

Silly  health,  poorly 

Simmer,  summer 

Sindered,  separated,. sundered 

Sindry,  sundry,  different 

Single  Carritch,  the  Shorter  Cate- 
chism of  the  Church  of  Scot- 
land 

Singuli  in  solidum,  singly  respon- 
sible for  the  whole 

Sit  doun  with,  endure,  take  quietly 

Skaith,  harm,  injury 

Skaithless,  free  from  harm 

Skeel,  skill,  knowledge ;  skeely, 
skilful,  knowing 

Skelp,  to  slap,  beat 

Skiddaw.    See  CrifFel 

Skin  and  birn,  wholly,  in  entirety 

Skirl,  to  screech,  scream 

Skulduddery,  breach  of  chastity, 
indecency 

Slake,  a  smear 

Sloan,  abuse,  rating 

Smacked  calf-skin,  kissed  the  Tes- 
tament, taken  a  (false)  oath 

Snack,  a  snatch  of  food 

Snap,  a  snack,  hurried  meal 

Snapper,  stumble,  scrape,  moral 
error 

Snog  and  snod,  neat  and  tidy 
"Something  there  was,"  etc.  (p. 

125).  From  Crabbe's  The  Borough, 

Letter  xv. 
Sonsy,  comfortable-looking,  plump 
Sorted,  looked  after,  attended  to 
Sough,  to  sigh  ;  a  sigh,  rumour 
Soup,  a  sup 
Souther,  to  solder 


GLOSSARY. 


641 


Sowens,  a  sort  of  gruel  made  from 

the  soured  sittings  of  oatmeal 
Spaeing,  telling  fortunes 
Speer,  to  inquire,  ask 
Spiel,  to  climb 

Spleuchan,  a  Highland  tobacco 
pouch 

Sporran,  a  Highland  purse  of  goat- 
skin 

Staig,  an  unbroken  horse 

Stair's  Institutes,  or,  Institutions 
of  the  Law  of  Scotland,  by  James 
Dalrymple,  First  Viscount  Stair, 
President  of  the  Court  of  Session, 
1609-95,  a  celebrated  Scotch  law- 
book 

Sted,  to  place,  fix 

Stern,  a  star 

Stirk,  a  steer 

Stoit,  to  stagger 

Stoup,  a  wooden  drinking-vessel 

Stow,  to  crop,  cut  oft 

Straughted,  stretched 

Streight,  strait,  trouble 

Sture,  rough,  hardy 

Sui  generis,  of  its  own  kind,  spe- 
cial 

Summum  bonum,  the  chief  good, 

prime  consideration 
Sunkets,  victuals 

Surfleet  on  the  Wash.  The  Three 
Tuns  Inn  on  the  marsh  (inclosed 
in  1777)  beside  the  Welland  at 
Surfleet  was  a  resort  of  smugglers 

Swither,  suspense,  hesitation 

Synd,  to  wash,  rinse 

Syne,  since,  ago 

Syne  as  sune,  late  as  soon 

Tailzie,  entail 

Tait,  a  lock  (of  wool) 

Tam  carum  caput,  a  person  so  dear 

Tap,  a  top 

Tape  out,  to  eke  out,  make  a  little 
go  a  long  way 

Tap  in  my  lap,  (take  up)  my  bag- 
gage and  be  off 

Tawpie,  an  awkward  girl,  foolish 
wench 

Tawse,  a  strap  cut  into  narrow 

thongs  for  whipping  boys 
Teind,  tithe 

Tempus  nemini,  time  (waits  for)  no 
man 

Tender,  in  delicate  health 

Ten-Mark  Court,  former  Scotch 
small  debt  court  for  sums  not  ex- 
ceeding ten  merks  (lis.  2d.)  and 
servants'  wages 

41 


Tent,  care  ;  tak  tent,  to  take  care 
Thatch  Groby  pool  wi'  pancakes, 
a  Leicestershire  proverb,  indicat- 
ing an  impossible  promise  or  un- 
dertaking 
Thirlage,  the  obligation  to  grind 
corn  at  a  certain  mill,  and  pay 
certain  dues  for  its  maintenance, 
etc. 

Thole,  to  suffer,  endure 

Thrawart,  thrawn,  crabbed,  ill- 
tempered 

Threshie  -  coat,  a  rough  weather- 
coat 

Through  other,  confusedly,  all  to- 
gether 

Thumkins,    or   thumbikins,  the 

thumb- screws 
Tight,  trim,  neat 
Tint,  lost 

Tittie,  a  little  pet,  generally  a  sister 
Tocher,  dowry 
Tod,  a  fox 

Tom  of  Lincoln,  the  large  bell  of 

Lincoln  Cathedral 
Tony  Lumpkin,  a  country  clown  in 

Goldsmith's  She  Stoops  to  Conquer 
Toom,  empty  ;  to  empty,  pour 
Touk,  took,  tuck,  beat  (of  a  drum) 
Tow,  a  rope 

Town,  a  farm-house,  with  the  out- 
buildings 

Toy,  a  woman's  cap 

Traik,  to  dangle  after 

Treviss,  a  bar  or  partition  between 
two  stalls  in  a  stable 

Trinquet,  or  trinket,  to  corre- 
spond clandestinely,  intrigue 

Trip  to  the  Jubilee,  a  comedy  by 
G.  Farquhar 

Trow,  to  believe 

Trowling,  rolling 

Tully,  Marcus  Tullius  Cicero,  the 
Roman  orator 

Turnpike  stair,  a  winding  or  spiral 
stair 

Tutor  dative,  a  guardian  appointed 

by  a  court  or  magistrate 
Twal,  twelve 

Twomont,  a  twelvemonth,  year 
Tyne,  to  lose  ;  tyne  heart  tyne  a', 
to  lose  heart  is  to  lose  everything 

Ulai.    See  Dan.  viii.  2,  16 
Ultroneous,  voluntary 
Uncanny,  mischievous,  not  safe 
Unchancy,  dangerous,  not  safe  to 

meddle  with 
Unco,  uncommon,  strange,  serious 


642 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 


Unscythed  car,  the  war-chariots  of 
the  ancient  Britons  and  Gauls 
bore  scythes  affixed  to  their 
wheels 

Upgang,  ascent 

Upsides  wi\  quits  with 

Usquebaugh,  whisky 

Ut  flos  in  sEPTis,  etc.  (p.  545),  as  a 
flower  springs  up  unseen  in  a 
walled  garden 

Valeat  quantum,  whatever  it  may 

be  worth 
Vicarage,  tithes 

Vivat  rex,  etc.  (p.  315),  long  live 
the  king,  let  the  law  take  its 
course 

Wa\  a  wall 

Wad,  a  pledge,  bet ;  to  wager,  bet 

Wad,  would 

Wadset,  a  mortgage 

Wae,  woe ;  sorry ;  waesome,  sor- 
rowful, sad 

Waff,  whisk,  sudden  puff 

Wagging,  dangling  by  a  piece  of 
skin 

Wale,  to  select,  choose 

Wally-draigle,  a  poor  weak  crea- 
ture, drone 

Wampishing,  brandishing,  flourish- 
ing 

Wan  out,  got  out 

Wan-thriven,  in  a  state  of  decline 

Ware,  to  spend 

Warsle,  warstle,  to  wrestle 

Wastrife,  waste  ;  waster,  wasteful 

Wat  finger,  to  bring  aff  wi'  a, 

manage  a  thing  very  easily 
Watna,  wot  not 

Wauff,  a  passing  glance,  glimpse 
Waur,  worse 

Wean,  a  young  child,  infant 
Webster,  a  weaver 
Weird,  destiny 
Well-tq-pass,  well-to-do 


Whaup  in  the  rape,  something 

wrong  or  rotten 
Wheen,  a  few,  a  parcel  of 
Whiles,  sometimes 
Whillywha,  to  wheedle 
Whirrying,  hurrying 
Whister-poop,  a  back-handed  blow 
Whistle  on  his  thumb,  completely 

disappointed 
Whittle,  a  large  knife 
Whorn,  a  horn 

Wight,  wicht,  powerful,  valiant 
Willyard,  wild,  wilful,  obstinate 
Wimple,  a  wile,  piece  of  craft, 

wrinkle 
Winna,  will  not 
Woggarwolfe.   See  Ethwald 
Woodie,  the  halter 
Worriecow,  a  hobgoblin 
Worset,  worsted 

Writer  to  the  signet,  a  class  of 
Scottish  law-agents,  enjoying  cer- 
tain privileges 

Wud,  mad,  violent 

Wull-cat,  a  wild  cat 

Wun,  won,  win,  to  win,  get,  gain 

Wun  ower  wi',  to  deal  with,  get 
through  with 

Wuss,  to  wish 

Wuzzent,  wizened,  withered 
Wynd,  a  narrow  passage  or  cul-de- 
sac 

Wyte,  blame 

Yeald  (cow),  one  whose  milk  has 
dried  up  ;  yeald  beasts,  drapes 

Yealdon,  elding,  fuel 

Yearn,  to  cause  to  coagulate,  make 
(cheese) 

Yerk,  to  bind  tightly 

Yerl,  an  earl 

Yill,  ale 

Yill-caup,  a  wooden  drinking- ves- 
sel 

Zone,  a  money-belt 


IND 


EX. 


Archibald,  John,  414 ;  conducts 
Jeanie  Deans  from  Mrs.  Glass's, 
423;  Jeanie' s  description  of  him, 
452  ;  consideration  for  her  at  Car- 
lisle, 464,  469,  472;  rows  Jeanie 
and  Mrs.  Dutton  home,  523 
Argyle,  John,  Duke  of,  his  retort 
to  Queen  Caroline,  89  ;  defence  of 
the  Porteous  riot,  288;  relations 
with  the  court,  411 ;  receives 
Jeanie  in  audience,  413  ;  takes  her 
to  Richmond,  424  ;  relations  with 
Queen  Caroline,  430 ;  interview 
with  her,  432 ;  discusses  cheese 
with  Jeanie,  445 ;  in  Mrs.  Glass's 
shop,  454  ;  his  wife  and  daughters, 
461;  his  letter  to  Jeanie,  475; 
praises  Lady  Staunton,  544;  his 
death,  547  ;  anecdotes  of,  622 
Arthur's  Seat,  Author's  favourite 

resort,  91 ;  duels  on,  131 
"  At  the  sight  of  Dunbarton,"  446 
Auchingower,  Jeanie's  home,  512 
Author's  Introduction,  7 ;  and  Ar- 
thur's Seat,  91 ;  connection  with 
Quakerism,  16,  603 

Bailzou,  Annaple,  574,  576 
Balchristie,  Mrs.  Janet,  302 
Beersheba,  Butler's  croft,  93 
Bellum  Bellellum,  629 
Bess  Wynd,  56,  607 
Bible,  folding  a  leaf  of,  122 
Bickerton,  Mrs.,  of  York,  325,  330 
Bishops,  Scottish,  expulsion  of,  458, 
624 

Bitem  politics.    See  Bubbleburgh 
Borrowing  days,  328,  623 
Bovet's  Panddemonium,  quoted,  619 
Brownie,  301 

Bubbleburgh  and   Bitem  politics, 
30,  33 

Buckholmside  cheese,  445,  624 
Butler,  David,  guides  Lady  Staun- 
ton, 566 ;  gets  a  commission,  600 
Butler,  Mrs. , Reuben's  grandmother, 
99  ;  her  pride  in  him,  108 


Butler,  Reuben,  corrects  Saddle- 
tree's Latin,  57 ;  his  discussions 
with  Saddletree,  57,  62,  315  ;  dis- 
tress at  Erne's  misfortune,  65 ; 
chaplain  to  the  rioters,  71 ;  tries 
to  save  Porteous,  84,  87 ;  escapes 
from  Edinburgh.  88;  history  of, 
91 ;  early  associated  with  Jeanie 
Deans,  101 ;  licensed  as  a  preacher, 
107  ;  encounters  Robertson  in  the 
King's  Park,  131 ;  sympathetic 
visit  to  the  Deans  family,  138 ; 
apprehended,  161 ;  examined  by 
the  bailie,  163,  167  ;  does  not  iden- 
tify Madge  Wildfire,  196 ;  visited 
by  Jeanie,  317 ;  gives  her  a  letter 
to  Argyle,  322;  Jeanie's  letters 
to  him,  327,  452;  appointed  to 
Knocktarlitie  church,  489 ;  wel- 
comes Jeanie  home,  502 ;  his  or- 
dination, 518  ;  marriage  to  Jeanie 
Deans,  529;  behaviour  towards 
David  Deans,  532 ;  plays  back- 
gammon with  Knockdunder,  536 ; 
buys  Craigsture,  553  ;  intercourse 
with  Sir  G.  Staunton,  576 ;  his  loy- 
alty to  the  Scottish  Kirk,  583; 
lands  at  Caird's  Cove,  587  ;  takes 
charge  of  Lady  Staunton's  affairs, 
597 

Butler,  Stephen  or  "Bible,"  91; 
Lome's  testimony  to,  417 

Caird's  Cove,  587 

Cameronians,  horror  of  dancing, 
121,  617 ;  belief  in  apparitions, 
178,  620  ;  sects  of,  230 ;  meeting 
at  Talla  Linns,  232,  621 ;  attitude 
to  government,  234  ;  leaders,  502 ; 
shining  lights  of,  533 

Carlyle,  Dr.,  his  recollections  of  the 
Porteous  mob,  616 

Caroline,  Queen,  and  the  Porteous 
riot,  52,  89 ;  characteristics  of, 
429 ;  interview  with  Argyle,  431 ; 
with  Jeanie  Deans,  437 ;  her  gift 
to  Jeanie,  441 


644 


WAVEKLEY  NOVELS. 


Carspharn,  John,  112,  180,  616 
41  Cauld  is  my  bed,  Lord  Archibald," 
471 

Cheese,  Scotch,  445 
Child-murder  in  Scotland,  67,  150, 
185,  607 

City  Guard  of  Edinburgh,  41,  606 ; 
disarmed  by  Porteous  mob,  74 

Cleishbotham,  Jedediah,  his  pref- 
ace, 13 ;  his  Envoy,  601 

Clyde,  river,  476;  beauties  of  firth, 
481 

College  students  of  Edinburgh,  96, 
616 

Covenant,  and  the  government,  234 
Crabbe,  quoted,  27,  125,  409 
Crombic  v.  MacPhail,  316 
Crossmyloof,   Counsellor,  Saddle- 
tree's oracle,  57,  61,  150 

Dabby,  Mrs.  Deputy,  456 

Dalgleish,  Jock,  192,  620 

Dalton,  Mrs.,  Staunton's  house- 
keeper, 381 ;  takes  charge  of 
Jeanie,  403 

Damahoy,  Miss,  lament  over  the 
Union,  55,  58  ;  and  the  verdict  on 
Erne,  286 

Dancing,  Cameronians'  horror  of, 
121,  617 

Deans,  David,  95 ;  his  worldly  suc- 
cess, 104  ;  jealousy  of  Butler,  107  ; 
removes  to  St.  Leonard's  Crags, 
112  ;  horror  of  dancing,  121 ;  dis- 
tress at  Erne's  disgrace,  128;  re- 
ception of  Butler  in  his  distress, 
139 ;  discussion  with  Saddletree, 
147 ;  rejects  the  aid  of  counsel, 
152;  repudiates  Effie,  228;  bids 
Jeanie  follow  her  conscience,  238  ; 
attends  at  the  trial,  252  ;  swoons 
in  court,  277 ;  taken  to  Mrs.  Sad- 
dletree's, 290  ;  letter  of  thanks  to 
Jeanie,  457  ;  resolves  to  leave  St. 
Leonard's,  458  ;  welcomes  Jeanie 
at  Roseneath,  482;  appointed  to 
manage  the  Duke's  farm,  486; 
visits  Dumbiedikes,  489  ;  hears  of 
Butler's  preferment,  492 ;  on  the 
ordination  oath,  493 ;  his  future 
home,  514 ;  his  first-born  joke, 
521 ;  his  bickerings  with  Butler, 
532 ;  helps  rescue  the  minister's 
cows,  549  ;  dies,  550 

Deans,  Erne,  Mrs.  Saddletree's 
sympathy  for,  63 ;  urged  to  fly 
from  the  prison,  83;  description 
of,  116 ;  scolded  by  Jeanie,  119 ; 
takes  service  with  Mrs.  Saddle- 


tree, 123 ;  her  misfortune,  12o  ; 
apprehended,  127 ;  interrogated 
by  the  procurator,  201 ;  interview 
with  Jeanie  whilst  in  jail,  242 ; 
placed  in  the  dock,  257 ;  her 
declaration,  268 ;  found  guilty, 
283 ;  second  interview  with  Jeanie, 
293  ;  her  connection  with  George 
Staunton,  388;  is  pardoned,  450; 
runs  away  from  her  father,  503 ; 
letter  to  her  father,  504  ;  surprises 
Jeanie  at  Roseneath,  525 ;  affect- 
ing letter  to  Jeanie,  537  ;  praised 
by  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  544  ;  tenor 
of  her  letters,  547.  See  further, 
Staunton,  Lady 
Deans,  Jeanie,  early  association 
with  Butler,  101 ;  and  the  visits 
of  Dumbiedikes,  104, 113 ;  personal 
description  of,  105 ;  admires  But- 
ler's learning,  110;  scolds  Erne, 
119 ;  breaks  off  her  engagement, 
143;  meets  Robertson  at  Mus- 
chat's  Cairn,  182;  escapes  from 
Sharpitlaw's  party,  214 ;  difficul- 
ties attending  her  evidence,  237 ; 
interview  with  Erne  in  jail,  242 ; 
at  the  trial,  256;  in  the  witness- 
box,  273 ;  receives  her  father's 
blessing,  292;  second  interview 
with  Efne,  293;  takes  RatclifTe's 
pass,  295 ;  asks  assistance  from 
Dumbiedikes,  306 ;  his  wooing, 
307  ;  visit  to  Butler,  317  ;  letters 
to  her  father,  326,  451  ;  to  Butler, 
327,  452 ;  stopped  by  highway- 
men, 337  ;  danger  in  their  hut, 
351 ;  led  into  church  by  Madge 
Wildfire,  366 ;  brought  before 
Rev.  Mr.  Staunton,  378 ;  inter- 
view with  George  Staunton,  383 ; 
his  relations  with  Efne,  385  ;  put 
in  Mrs.  Dalton' s  charge,  403  ;  es- 
corted to  Stamford,  407 ;  arrives 
in  London,  410 ;  interview  with 
Argyle,  413;  cross-questioned  by 
Mrs.  Glass,  421,  447;  taken  to 
Richmond,  423 ;  interview  with 
Queen  Caroline,  437 ;  discusses 
cheese  with  the  Duke,  445  ;  her 
father's  reply  to  her  letter  to  him, 
457 ;  presented  to  the  Duchess, 
460 ;  sets  off  home,  462  ;  at  Madge 
Wildfire's  death,  469  ;  her  distress 
at  the  change  of  route,  474  ;  meet- 
ing with  her  father,  482 ;  with 
Butler,  502;  inspects  her  future 
home,  513;  delight  at  seeing  the 
cows,  515 ;  unpacks  the  Argyle 


INDEX. 


645 


presents,  516 ;  surprised  by  Effie 
at  Roseneath,  525  ;  marriage  to 
Butler,  529 ;  joys  and  crosses  of 
her  married  life,  532  ;  reads  Erne's 
letter,  537 ;  her  transitory  pique, 
540;  surprises  Butler  with  the 
money,  551 ;  is  visited  by  Lady 
Staunton,  558  ;  visits  the  Whistler, 
598  ;  loosens  his  cords,  599 

Deans,  Mrs.  Rebecca,  105 

Dempster  of  court,  284,  621.  See  also 
Hangman 

Dhu,  John,  of  the  City  Guard,  43 

Dick,  Sir  William,  of  Braid,  227,  621 

Dickson,  Maggie.  See  Half-hanged 
Maggie  Dickson 

Donacha  Dhu,  548,  568;  attacks 
Butler  and  Sir  George  Staunton, 
592;  killed  by  Knockdunder,  593; 
his  plans,  596 

Doomster  of  court,  284,  621.  See  also 
Hangman 

Dumbiedikes,  old  laird  of,  94  ; 
deathbed  of,  97 

Dumbiedikes,  young  laird  of,  at  his 
father's  deathbed,  96;  his  charac- 
ter, 99;  his  visits  to  the  Deans, 
104,  113  ;  his  wooing,  114,  307  ;  of- 
fers money  to  help  Effie,  129,  155 ; 
appealed  to  by  Jeanie,  306 ;  mar- 
ried, 490 

Dumbiedikes  mansion-house,  299; 

situation  of,  616 
Dunbarton,  Castle  of,  477 
Dundas,  James,  younger,  of  Arnis- 

ton,  152 

Dunover,  Mr.,  mail-coach  passen- 
ger, 22 ;  his  history,  31 

Dutton,  Mrs.  Dolly,  445;  curiosity 
to  witness  the  execution,  463 ;  re- 
fuses to  go  on  the  water,  478  ;  ap- 
pears late  for  breakfast,  510 ;  jeal- 
ousy of  Jeanie' s  presents,  517 ; 
refuses  to  land  at  Roseneath  pier, 
524 ;  sends  Meg  Murdockson's 
Confession  to  Jeanie,  554 

Edinburgh,  City  Guard  of,  41,  74, 
606;  communication  with  Lon- 
don, 324  ;  courts,  254  ;  Grassmar- 
ket,  34,  46,  49 ;  guard-house,  73 ; 
hangman,  166,  283;  41  Heart  of 
Midlothian"  in,  24;  King's  Park, 
112,  131,  136,  181 ;  Krames,  69  ; 
Luckenbooths,  69,  74  ;  magistrates 
of,  44,  77 ;  mob,  50,  71 ;  ports, 
70,73  ;  students,  96,  616 ;  tolbooth, 
25,  69,  79,  608;  Tolbooth  Church, 
39 


Envoy,  Cleishbotham's,  601 

Fairbrother,  Effie' s  counsel,  260, 
279 

Fairies,  belief  in,  179 ;  fairy  boy  of 

Leith,  179,  618 
Fairscrieve,  city-clerk,  167,  189,  218 
Fair  sex,  calumniator  of,  216 
Feckless  Fannie,  625 
Ferguson,  or  Fergusson,  on  City 

Guard,  42 
Fife,  smuggling  in,  36 
Fleming,  Archdeacon,  of  Carlisle, 

555,  573 
Forbes,  Duncan,  454 

Gare  Loch,  481 

Glass,  Mrs.,  her  instructions  to 
Jeanie,  415  ;  cross  -  questions 
Jeanie,  421,  447 ;  and  the  Duke's 
visit,  453 

Goldie,  Mrs.,  of  Craigmuir,  7  ;  her 

daughter's  letter,  10 
"Good   even,  good   fair  moon," 

208 

Gordon,  Francis,  death  of,  499,  628 
Grassmarket,  Edinburgh,  34  ;  exe- 
cution of  Wilson  in,  46 ;  at  the 
execution  of  Porteous,  49 
Graves,  Bow  Street  officer,  on  wo- 
men, 620 
Guard-house,  Edinburgh,  73 
Gunnerby   Hill,   near  Grantham, 
333  ;  Jeanie  stopped  by  highway- 
men near,  337 

Half-hanged  Maggie  Dickson,  467, 
624 

Halkit,  Edinburgh  lawyer,  21 
Hangman  of  Edinburgh,  166,  283, 
618.  See  also  Dalgleish  and  Doom- 

Harabee  Brow  Hill,  464 
Hardie,  Edinburgh  advocate,  21 
Hardwicke,  Lord,  and  the  Duke  of 

Argyle,  412,  623 
"Headstrong,  determined  in  his 

own  career,"  409 
Heart  of  Midlothian,  Edinburgh, 

24.    See  Tolbooth 
Heart  of  Midlothian,  the  novel,  7 
"He  that  is  down,"  361 
Hettly,  May,  296 ;  shows  Jeanie  the 

cows,  514 
Highwaymen  on  the  North  Road, 

337 

Howden,  Mrs.,  on  Porteous's  re- 
prieve, 55,  58  ;  on  the  verdict  on 
Effie,  286 


G46 


"  I  glance  like  the  wildfire,"  196 
41  I'm  Madge  of  the  country,"  361 
44  In  the  bonny  cells  of  Bedlam,"  345 
Invisible  world,  Covenanters'  be- 
lief in,  136,  178 
Irongray,  place  of  Helen  Walker's 

burial,  12,  603 
44  It  is  the  bonny  butcher  lad,"  209 

Kelpie's  Voice,  49,  607 
King's  Advocate,  259,  278 
King's  Park,  112,  131,  136,  181 
Knockdunder,    Captain    of,  506; 
smokes  in  church,  518 ;  his  boat 
run  down,  528 ;  interposes  in  be- 
half of  Ailie  MacClure,  542 ;  es- 
corts Lady  Staunton  to  Knock- 
tarlitie,  558  ;  hunts  Donacha  Dhu, 
590  ;  kills  him,  593 
Knocktarlitie,  manse  of,  513 
Krames  of  thetolbooth,  Edinburgh, 
69 

Law-courts,  Edinburgh,  253 

Lawson,  Miss  Helen,  7 

Lawyers,  Scottish,  Deans' s  objection 

to,  150,  152 
Leith,  fairy  boy  of,  179,  618 
Levitt,  Frank,  highwayman,  stops 

Jeanie,  357;   colloquy  with  Meg 

Murdockson,  348;  committal  of, 

555 

Liberton,  312 

Lily  of  St.  Leonard's.  See  Deans, 
Effie 

Lincluden  Abbey,  7 
Lochaber  axe,  43 

Lockman,  166,  284,  618.    See  also 

Dalgleish  and  Doomster 
London,  communication  with 

Edinburgh,  324 
Lord  High  Commissioner  of  Scottish 

Kirk,  573 
Lords  of  seat  and  of  session,  58 
Luckenbooths,  69,  74 

Madge  Wildfire,  before  the  pro- 
curator, 195;  questioned  by  Rat- 
cliffe,  198;  leads  the  officers  to 
Muschat's  Cairn,  206;  her  con- 
duct towards  her  mother,  221 ; 
accosts  Jeanie  on  the  North  Road, 
336  ;  takes  her  into  her  own  apart- 
ment, 342  ;  leads  her  from  the  hut, 
353  ;  quotes  Pilgrim's  Progress,  356, 
362  ;  tells  of  her  past  history,  357  ; 
bedecks  herself  with  finery,  364; 
enters  the  church,  367 ;  her  con- 
nection with  George  Staunton, 


NOVELS. 


387  ;  appeals  to  Jeanie  at  Carlisle, 
467  ;  her  death,  469  ;  prototype  of, 

625 

Magistrates  of  Edinburgh,  44,  77 

Mail-coaches,  17 

Marsport  v.  Lackland,  149 

Meiklehose,  Elder,  519,  522 

Middleburgh,  Bailie,  217  ;  visits  St. 
Leonard's,  226 

Mob  of  Edinburgh,  50 ;  Porteous 
mob,  71-89 

"Much  have  I  fear'd,"  27 

Murdockson,  Meg,  demands  hei 
daughter,  220 ;  in  the  highway- 
man's hut,  340  ;  her  colloquy  with 
Levitt,  348  ;  relations  with  George 
Staunton,  387,  391 ;  her  execution, 
463 ;  her  Dying  Confession,  555 

Muschat's  Cairn,  137,  181 ;  story  of 
Nicol  Muschat,  618 

Netherbow  Port,  Edinburgh,  73 
Newark,  Jeanie  at,  334 
Novit,  Nichil,  the  attorney,  95 ;  his 
son  acts  for  Effie,  255 

Ordination  oath,  Deans  on,  493, 

520 ;  Butler's,  518 
41  Oh  sleep  ye  sound,  Sir  James,"  188, 

211 

Ostler,  Dick,  331,  333 

44  Our  work  is  over — over  now,"  470 

Peden,  Life  of,  quoted,  229 
Pilgrim's  Progress  cited,  356,  362 
Pittenweem,  Wilson's  robbery  at, 
37 

Plumdamas,  on  Porteous' s  reprieve, 
55,  57  ;  acts  as  peacemaker,  287 ; 
at  Saddletree's  house,  578 

Porteous,  Captain  John,  41,  44 ;  his 
cruelty  to  Wilson,  46 ;  fires  up- 
on the  mob,  47 ;  reprieved,  52 ; 
dragged  out  of  the  tolbooth, 
82 ;  hanged,  88 

Porteous,  Mrs.,  578;  indemnified 
for  her  husband's  death,  623 

Porteous  mob,  71-89,  607;  official 
inquiry  into,  609-616;  Dr.  Car- 
ry le's  recollections  of,  616 

Ports,  or  gates,  of  Edinburgh,  70, 
72 

Portsburgh,  suburb  of  Edinburgh, 
71 

44  Proud  Maisie  is  in  the  wood," 
471 

Quakerism,  Author's  connection 
with,  16,  603 


INDEX. 


647 


Ratcliffe,  Jim,  refuses  to  leave  the 
tolbooth,  83 ;  before  the  magis- 
trate, 164 ;  his  interview  with 
Sharpitlaw,  192 ;  questions  Madge 
Wildfire,  198;  goes  to  Muschat's 
Cairn,  205 ;  appointed  jailor  of 
the  tolbooth,  240;  gives  Jeanie 
his  pass,  295 ;  his  communication 
to  Sir  George,  594 ;  note  on,  629 

Richmond  Park,  scene  in,  431  ; 
Richmond  Hill,  view  from,  426 

Robertson,  Geordie,  associated  with 
Wilson,  37;  attempted  escape,  38  ; 
actual  escape,  40  ;  his  part  in  the 
Porteous  riot,  83 ;  accosted  by 
Butler  in  the  King's  Park,  132; 
meets  Jeanie  at  Muschat's  Cairn, 
182;  escapes  from  the  police  of- 
ficers, 188.  See  further,  Staunton, 
George 

Rory  Bean,  Dumbiedikes's  pony, 

114,  157,  309 
Roseneath,  477,  481,  506 
Ross,  Alex.,  his  Fortunate  Shepherd 

quoted,  512 

Saddletree,  Bartoline,  56 ;  his 
Latin,  57 ;  discussions  with  But- 
ler, 57,  62,  315  ;  on  Effie' s  case,  64  ; 
his  advice  to  David  Deans,  142, 
147 ;  puts  the  case  of  Marsport 
v.  Lackland,  149;  at  Effie' s  trial, 
256 ;  recites  Argyle  on  the  Porte- 
ous mob,  289  ;  intrudes  on  Butler, 
315;  his  version  of  Crombie  v. 
MacPhail,  316 ;  in  after  years,  578 

Saddletree,  Mrs.,  56;  cares  of  the 
shop,  60 ;  takes  Efne  into  her  em- 
ployment, 123  ;  makes  tea  for  Sir 
G.  Staunton,  579 

St.  Anthony's  Chapel,  181 

St.  Leonard's  Crags,  112 

Salisbury  Crags,  near  Edinburgh,  90 

Scotsmen,  clannish  feeling  of,  446 

Scottish  bishops,  expulsion  of,  458, 
624 

Semple,  John,  112,  180,  616 
Sharpitlaw,  his  interview  with  Rat- 
cliffe, 192  ;  examines  Madge  Wild- 
fire, 196  ;  examines  Effie,  201 ;  at- 
tempts to  capture  Robertson,  205; 
his  sneer  at  women,  216,  620 
Shawfield's  mob,  476,  627 
Shaws,  murder  of  the  two,  291,  623 
Smuggling  in  Scotland,  36,  510 
Somerset  stage-coach,  19 
1 '  Some  say  that  we  wan,"  461 
Speculative  Society,  Edinburgh,  31 
"  Stand  to  it,  noble  pikemen,"  375 


Staunton,  George,  discovers  him- 
self to  Jeanie,  383  ;  his  story,  387 ; 
upbraided  by  his  father,  397  ;  of- 
fers his  life  to  save  Effie' s,  405; 
his  history,  408 ;  appears  at  Rose- 
neath, 527 ;  in  the  Lord  High 
Commissioner's  train,  573 ;  seeks 
Buyer's  acquaintance,  576;  turns 
in  to  the  Saddletrees'  house,  578 ; 
assists  Mrs.  Porteous,  578 ;  chal- 
lenged by  Ratcliffe,  580  ;  thinks  to 
offer  Butler  a  living,  583  ;  lands  at 
Caird's  Cove,  588  ;  killed,  593 

Staunton,  Lady,  arrives  at  Knock- 
tarlitie,  558  ;  appearance  and  man- 
ners of,  559,  564 ;  her  danger  at 
the  waterfall,  567;  her  grief  for 
Sir  George's  death,  593 ;  her  sub- 
sequent history,  600 

Staunton,  Rev.  Mr.,  observes  Jeanie 
in  church,  369 ;  hears  her  story, 
378  ;  upbraids  his  son,  397  ;  his  his 
tory,  408 

Stubbs,  the  Willingham  beadle,  371 
Students  of  Edinburgh,  96,  616 
Suffolk,  Lady,  431 
Supernatural    visitants,   belief  in, 

136,  178,  568 
Surplice,  Presbyterian  objection  to, 

369 

Tall  a  Linns,  Cameronian  confer- 
ence at,  232,  621 
Thames,  from  Richmond  Hill,  426 
14  There's  a  bloodhound  ranging," 
210 

"  The  water  gently  down  the  level 

slid,"  512 
Thomas,  servant  at  Willingham, 

374 

Tillicidian,  Saddletree's  collision 
with,  316 

Tolbooth,  old  Edinburgh,  24,  69, 608; 
broken  into  by  Porteous  mob, 
77-79 

Tolbooth  Church,  Robertson's  es- 
cape from,  40 

Tolling  to  service,  517, 629 

Tramp,  Gaffer,  466 

Trees,  planting  of,  96,  616 

Tyburn,  London,  34 

Tyburn  Tom,  highwayman,  338, 
555 

Union,  the  lament  over,  55,  58 

Waiters,  Edinburgh  gate-keepers, 
72 

Walker,  Helen,  prototype  of  Jeanie 


648 


Deans,  8,  11 ;  her  tombstone  and 
epitaph,  603 

Walker,  Patrick,  Cameronian  his- 
torian, 121,  616;  on  Francis  Gor- 
don's death,  499,  628;  his  book 
cited,  616,  624,  628 

Wallace  Inn,  Gandercleugh,  22 

West  Port,  Edinburgh,  72 

Whackbairn,  Liberton  schoolmas- 
ter, 65,  313 

44  What  did  ye  wi'  the  bridal  ring," 
199 

44  When  the  fight  of  grace,"  470 

44  When    the  gled's   in  the  blue 

cloud,"  188 
Whistler,  Erne's  child,  570  ;  rescues 

Lady  Staunton,  569 ;  captured  by 


NOVELS. 


Knockdunder,  593;  his  history, 
595,  599  ;  escapes,  599 

Willingham  rectory,  372 

Willoughby ,  Peregrine  Bertie, 
Lord,  375 

Wilson,  Andrew,  smuggler,  36;  at- 
tempted escape,  38  ;  secures  Rob- 
ertson's escape,  40  ;  execution  of, 
46;  Staunton's  connection  with, 
388 

Witchcraft,  belief  in,  136,  178 
Women,  cynical  opinion  of,  216, 

620 

Woodend  cottage,  99 

York,  James,  blacksmith  of  Lin- 
coln, 375 


END  OF  THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


